by Kurt Barker
Then suddenly a tiny noise came to his ears, so brief and faint that he almost missed it. He jerked the reins around and drove Khamsin up the ridge toward the sound as fast as he could manage. As he crested the rise he spotted Poloma; she was struggling weakly against a powerfully-built man dressed all in black, whose muscular arm was locked around her throat. Blackshot recognized him from the red and white paint on his face as one of the Sun Wolf's personal team from the camp. The man was dragging Poloma roughly through the trees toward his waiting horse, with one hand clamped over her mouth.
Blackshot rode straight toward the pair, palming one of his Colts as he bore down on them. The Comanche marauder spun around to face him, hefting Poloma's body in front of his own. He released the grip on her mouth and pulled out a long knife from the back of his belt, brandishing it in front of the girl's face.
“Hey asshole! Turn around and mind your own fucking business, got it?!” the man snarled.
“Got it,” Blackshot replied as he stepped down from his horse. “Problem is, this is my fucking business. Let go of her.”
As he took a step forward, the man backed up a step and held the point of the knife against Poloma's stomach. His eyes were grim, and his white-painted lips curled into a sneer. “Back off, asshole, or I'll gut this whore right in front of you!” Poloma's face was pale but calm and she stared blankly ahead, not at Blackshot, but into the distance as if the standoff did not interest her.
“I don't think you'll do that,” Blackshot said. “In fact, I don't think you'll hurt her at all.”
“Oh, is that what you think, asshole?” the Comanche shot back, grinning maliciously. “You don't think I'll carve up this slut like the pig she is?”
“Sure, I don't doubt that you would do that. I'm just saying that you won't get the chance.”
As he spoke, the gun in Blackshot's hand jerked upward and blossomed with fire. The raider grunted in pain as the bullet ripped the knife from his hand, taking a couple of his fingers with it. A second slug was following close on the heels of the first, and it slammed into the man's forehead just above his right eye and exploded out the back of his head in a shower of crimson. He slued backwards, his arm falling away from Poloma's throat as he collapsed on the ground.
At the same time Poloma stumbled forward and dropped to her knees, her hair spilling across her face. Blackshot began to walk towards her when he caught a sudden blur of movement from the corner of his eye. On instinct he dove aside through the brush just as the boom of a shotgun thundered through the trees.
The blast splintered the trunk of an oak just beyond where Blackshot had stood a moment before, and sent leaves and branches flying into the air as hot lead knifed through the bushes on either side. Blackshot had only time to get to his hands and knees and hurl himself behind another nearby tree before a second blast withered the underbrush where he had landed.
As he darted out from behind the tree he spotted a black-clad figure lurking at the edge of a thicket across from him, and snapped off a quick shot. The man ducked behind a thick tree trunk, dropping the shotgun as he went. An instant later a blue-streaked face and a hand holding a pistol poked out from behind the tree, but pulled back just as quickly as Blackshot's bullets drove him back.
Blackshot drew his second Colt, keeping the first one trained on the bullet-pitted tree trunk opposite him. The echoes of the shots died out through the rustling treetops and the forest descended into an uneasy quiet.
After a moment, the silence was broken by Poloma's voice. “He's gone.”
“And the others?”
“Not here. It was just the two of them this time.”
Blackshot stood up and walked over to where the girl sat. “Are you hurt?”
She shrugged. “They were going to take me alive-- take me back to him so that he could finish me off in person. They must have been watching and set up an ambush to catch me when I rode by. I should have seen it but I wasn't thinking right.”
“Yeah, I could tell. Where the hell were you riding like that anyway?”
“Just away.”
“Away from Hans?”
“I couldn't face him like that; all of a sudden I realized that I couldn't. I had to get away.” She looked up at him with eyes that were dull and sorrowful. “I thought.... I have to fix it all first. But... now I see that I can't fix it. Never.”
“Believe me, we'll fix it,” Blackshot said, laying a hand on the girl's shoulder. “Don't you worry about that.”
She brushed his hand away and dropped her head again. “It doesn't matter now anyway. I'll never see him again.”
“What are you saying?”
“Don't you see? I'm going to die.”
Chapter 36
Blackshot's cold gray eyes narrowed as he regarded the girl. “What are you playing at all of a sudden?”
“Does it look like I'm playing?!” Poloma shot back. “I told you that you couldn't understand; as important as it is to Sun Wolf that he wins this game, it's even more important to him now that I lose. It's personal to him, see? I should have realized that when he sent Horse Eater after me. And now that I've interfered in his plans again he's concentrating all his energy on destroying me.”
“The more wins we get against Sun Wolf, the more you talk about losing,” Blackshot snapped. “In case you didn't notice, most of his gang is dead, his plan for a sneak attack just went up in smoke, and he's on the run! What's more, I'm not going to stop until I put an end to him!”
“You won't put an end to Sun Wolf. You've dealt him a blow for sure, but you won't beat him at his own game for long; he's too clever for that. Besides, even if you do take him down, he'll find a way to take me with him. Either way, I know it's all over for me.”
Blackshot stood up and held out his hand to Poloma. “That's all a load of crap,” he growled. “Come on, I'm going after him before he has a chance to hire another gang or a new giant psycho killer.”
“You should leave. You were right; I'm a dangerous person to help. If you don't want to end up like Littlehorse, then go!”
“Get your ass in the saddle or I'll leave you behind.”
Poloma ignored Blackshot's outstretched hand, but got to her feet and walked back to the ridge to retrieve her horse. He could see in her body language that her spirit was heavy and defeated. A spark of anger kindled in his mind as he watched her move; what kind of hold did Sun Wolf have over the girl to break her confidence even in his defeat? She acted like he was some kind of supernatural monster that could bend reality to his will and put the finger of doom on anyone that he wished. Maybe he was, but it was too bad for him that Blackshot didn't believe in monsters.
Poloma returned astride the horse she had ridden from the battle, and she fell in line behind Khamsin as Blackshot led him up the hill. Where Sun Wolf could be found now was anyone's guess, but his last camp seemed like a good place to start looking. They rode through the woods for a while in the general direction that Blackshot remembered it lying in, until he spotted the familiar landmarks of the cliff and the pool at its base, and turned toward them.
The sun was setting over the tops of the tall oaks on the hillside, and the long shadows that they cast over the silent campsite lent it an uncanny and almost ominous aura, much like an abandoned graveyard. As they rode up to the clearing where the wagon had rested, Blackshot pulled Khamsin up short, for he saw a sight that told him that it had been more than the shadows that had given him that feeling. On the muddy ground, among the ruts of the wagon wheels and the multitude for hoof prints left earlier by the departing band, lay the body of a man, face down and motionless.
Blackshot held up his hand for Poloma to stop, and slipped down from the saddle. The man's hair was plastered to his neck by the blood that oozed from a gory wound at the base of his skull, and a red pool had filled a footprint in the mud at his head. Though his jacket was caked with mud, Blackshot could see that it was cavalry blue.
“When we first rode through those horsemen tha
t followed the wagon, one of them turned tail and ran,” he said. “It looks like he didn't run fast enough.”
“He was stupid to come back here,” Poloma said. “I think you're stupid to be here, too.”
“Don't you start with the moping again.”
“Any fool can see that Sun Wolf left this bum here as a warning to you.”
“Bad luck for him that I'm not just any fool.” Blackshot knelt beside the dead man's body and touched the skin. “About as cold as you'd expect, which is not very cold at all. I guess we know where Sun Wolf and his pals were when the other two were ambushing you. Wherever they were heading for their sneak attack on the Schenker house, they must have been close enough to hear when the shooting started at the wagon, and changed their plan immediately once they saw what was going on.”
Poloma shrugged with disinterest. “So what? They could be miles away by now. Why are we wasting time here?”
“If you've got someplace to be in a hurry, don't let me keep you.”
“I am in a hurry! I don't have much time left, you know. I don't care if you don't like to hear it; I know it's true. Maybe you aren't long for this world either, so whatever you're planning to do, let's get it over with!”
“So you're knitting a shroud for both of us now, huh?” Blackshot said as he swung up onto Khamsin's back again. “Well, keep it to yourself. I've still got living to do.”
He picked what appeared to be the freshest tracks leading out of the camp and started off across the slushy woodland with Poloma in tow.
“Don't you ever think about it? About dying?” she asked.
“What's there to think about? Dying's easy; anyone can do it. It's the making 'em die that's the hard part!”
Chapter 37
The tracks that they followed turned after a short distance and led back to the abandoned campsite. Blackshot tried another, but got the same result. He rode around the outskirts of the camp, looking over the prints carefully, until he found another good prospect and set off again along its trail. This time the tracks led well and truly away from the campsite and circled around the spot where the ambush had been laid and continued on toward the river.
The sun had dropped well below the treetops by the time they reached the river's edge, and Blackshot was finding the trail harder to follow in the diminishing light. The tracks disappeared on the rocky bank, and when Blackshot had guided Khamsin through the shallow but quick-moving water to the far side, he did not find any prints.
“Keep going that way,” Poloma called as she watched him make his way deliberately along the bank in search of the trail. “I'll go downstream and see if I can pick up the tracks down that way.”
“No, I don't want you going off on your own,” Blackshot responded as he turned back. “Stay close to me.”
“Why? Are you afraid Sun Wolf will find me?” Poloma snapped. “That's what we want, isn't it? Or are we just riding around in the cold for fun?”
She nudged her horse forward to cross the stream, and as it reached the far side its hooves slipped on the slick stones and stumbled. Poloma clutched at the horse's mane, but her grip failed and she would have fallen to the ground had not Blackshot shot out his hand and held her upright.
He could feel her arm trembling in his grasp, and even with his help she was almost too feeble to pull herself back into the saddle. The day's adversity had taken a heavy toll on her emotions and body, which were already in a weakened state after nearly dying by Sun Wolf's hand mere days before. The warm sun was gone now and a chilly wind was picking up along the hillside. Blackshot felt a pang in his stomach and realized that he not eaten anything since the night before; he had met Poloma that morning and since then she had not eaten either.
“Come on, let's take a break from this,” he said.
Poloma jerked her arm away from him angrily. “Don't look at me like that! I'm fine now! I want to keep going!”
“Forget it. It's too dark to follow a trail at this point anyway. We'll rest up and start hunting again in the morning.”
“Where? Right here?” She threw up her arms dramatically. “That'll make it pretty easy for Sun Wolf to kill us in our sleep!”
“Shush. You'll burn less energy if you don't gripe so much. Come on, follow me.”
Blackshot pondered the possibilities as he rode; Dryer Hill was not far and he could find it in the dark, and he knew Maisie would take them in. As the icy wind lashed harshly against his face he thought of the warm, well-stocked tavern and Maisie's smiling face, her unruly golden locks, the plump, firm breasts, the luscious, inviting thighs and the cozy bed where he could explore every inch of them at his leisure. It was an inviting idea, to be sure, but he reluctantly put it out of his mind; there was a possibility that Sun Wolf would be watching and he was not about to lead the ruthless and desperate villain to Maisie and Captain Mike and needlessly endanger them.
But if not there, then where? There was always the Schenker estate; in spite of everything that had transpired Blackshot felt sure that Hans would let them into the fortress for Poloma's sake, but he was also sure that there was no way Poloma would allow herself to be taken back there without fighting every inch of the journey.
There was one other option; not the most inviting option, but it would work in a pinch. Blackshot turned his horse in that direction.
“Where the hell are we going?” The girl's voice was more weary than petulant now.
“We're going someplace to make camp where I'm sure we won't run into Sun Wolf,” Blackshot replied.
They crossed the river again and rode in silence for several minutes through the gloomy twilight that had settled on the valley. Beneath the tall oaks, leafless though they were, the darkness was even deeper, but Blackshot knew the way well by now.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Poloma's disbelieving voice announced that they had arrived at their destination: Sun Wolf's abandoned camp which they had left less than an hour before.
“It's the one spot I can be sure that Sun Wolf won't be tonight,” Blackshot said with a grin as he dismounted and led Khamsin into the clearing. “He's not the only one that can be clever, you know.” He was not expecting Poloma to praise his cunning, and was therefore not disappointed.
Past the point where the wagon had rested, they found a place where the ground had been cleared along an embankment formed by the roots of two tall trees, and branches and dirt had been piled up by the Comanche band between the trunks to shelter the spot from the wind. It was here that Blackshot brought the horses, and lifted Poloma down from the saddle.
The tips of his long fingers could almost meet around the girl's slender waist; she seemed small again, and fragile. She had been living for a crazy dream and had been willing to defy death for it, but now that she felt that Sun Wolf had snatched the dream away from her, the indomitable will was broken in her and she was hopeless and weak.
Blackshot returned to Khamsin and the other horse and unsaddled them. Near the pool by the cliff there was some scrub grass where the hot afternoon sun had melted away the snow. It was not much, but it was the best he could provide at the moment so he left them there.
Now that the horses were settled in, Blackshot set about finding food for the humans. He sat down on a fallen log nearby and rummaged through the saddle bags to see what grub he could scare up. His own saddle yielded some jerky and the makings for a pot of coffee, and he found some hardtack wrapped in a cloth in the bags of the other saddle. It appeared that they weren't going to eat much better than the horses were, he mused grimly, but it was better than nothing.
He went to the pool and filled the little pot, then returned to the camp. He found Poloma lying by the embankment, curled up with her back to him. He kindled a small fire and set the coffee to boiling while he laid out the meager supper.
“Dinner is served, m'lady, such as it is,” Blackshot said.
“I don't want any,” Poloma mumbled without moving.
“Humor me and die on a full stomach.”<
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She sat up with a sigh and sullenly accepted the food that was offered her. They ate in silence, and afterward Blackshot poured out the coffee. It would not have won any awards at a brewing competition, but the hot liquid did wonders to take the chill out of his bones, and sweep the dark funk from his mood. It seemed to have had a similar effect on Poloma, and when she handed him the empty cup, the dull gloom had lifted from her eyes somewhat.
When Blackshot got up to find some dry sticks to fuel the fire, she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I'll do it this time,” she said.
“Fine.”
While Poloma tended to the fire, Blackshot found a comfortable spot to recline against the embankment. When she went to lay down again he took her by the hand and pulled her close to him.
“Come on, I don't want you freezing half to death again,” he said. He took off his coat and draped it across their shoulders, wrapping it around them both so that the girl lay with her head resting on his expansive chest. She didn't say a word, but snuggled closer against him and closed her eyes. Blackshot drew his hat down over his eyes and drifted off into much-needed sleep.
He was not sure how long it had been when he was awoken by a tugging on the front of his shirt. Poloma's body was moving against his and then he felt her hand on his cheek. He tipped his hat back on his head to look at her and found her face close to his, her lips almost touching his chin. Her blouse was gone and the skirt was crumpled around her knees; her bare breasts rubbed warm against his chest.
“Take me,” she whispered. “I want to do it one last time.”
Chapter 38
Poloma's fingers pulled at the buttons on Blackshot's shirt. “If it's all got to end like this I can at least feel alive one more time,” she said softly.
Blackshot placed his hands on her bare shoulders and shook her. “How many times to I have to tell you that you're not going to die?” he snapped.
