The Tylers 2

by Neil Hunter

  The rider drew rein at the canyon mouth. He sat for a moment, casting round. When he spotted Jacob’s tracks he slid his rifle free and got down off his horse.

  Jacob had come down by a slightly different route, bringing him out of the brush some yards to the rear of Retford’s rider. When Jacob stepped out of the brush the man was studying the line of tracks back along the canyon. Then he reached his hand out to catch up his horse’s rein.

  ‘Mister, you just stand where you are and don’t move. Don’t you move unless you want to die right quick,’ Jacob said as he stepped out into the open behind the rider.

  The man did as he was told. Jacob closed up with him, keeping his rifle levelled all the time. It had been known for a man to buck a loaded gun and to get away with it. Jacob didn’t intend to give this man the chance to even think about it.

  ‘Let go the rifle,’ Jacob said, and when the man had done so, Jacob told him, ‘Now take out the handgun. But do it easy, pilgrim, ‘cause I’m a man who’s right nervous where guns are concerned.’

  The man slid his gun free, held it up and Jacob took it and tucked it away under his coat.

  ‘All right, mister, you can ease off now and turn around.’

  The man was as tall as Jacob, but slimmer, with a narrow, high boned face. His eyes were small and narrow, his mouth hard, thin lipped. He returned Jacob’s glance with almost a sneer. He appeared to be relaxed, as if he wasn’t overly worried about his position.

  ‘Now I’d say you were a man who was expecting his bunch to come and save his hide any minute,’ Jacob said.

  ‘I figure you’d give an arm to know just how far away they are,’ the man said, and he grinned at Jacob cockily.

  He was still grinning when Jacob rammed the muzzle of his rifle into his stomach. The man grunted and buckled forward and Jacob swung the muzzle again, slamming it down across the side of the man’s head. The man went to his knees in the mud and stayed there for a minute, his breath coming in rasping gulps.

  ‘Now I might not give an arm, pilgrim, but you might lose one if I don’t get to know where Retford and his bunch are,’ Jacob said as the man got to his feet.

  There was a bruise forming on the side of his face where Jacob’s rifle had caught him. The man put a hand to it and swore. He threw an angry look at Jacob. ‘Mister, you can go to hell.’

  This time Jacob used the butt of his gun. It came round in a slashing arc, catching the man along his jaw, spinning him round, slamming him up against the canyon wall.

  ‘Pilgrim, you better get the idea quick. I ain’t in any mood to play games. You tell me what I need to know else I’m going to make you wish you’d never come on this mountain.’

  The Retford man spat blood and a tooth. The side of his face was raw and bloody. ‘Christ, mister, you like to broke my jaw. Hell, you crazy or what?’

  ‘Crazy to stay alive is all,’ Jacob said. ‘You know how all this came about. I don’t want trouble, but Retford won’t leave it lay. He made the rules, and any man on his side of the board gets in my way, then he’s going to get whatever comes along.’

  The man fingered his bleeding face. He looked at Jacob, and he knew by what he saw that if he wanted to walk away from this, then there was only one way to do it.

  ‘What the hell. I don’t figure it’s going to do you much good anyhow. Old Kyle, he’s ready to chase you clear to Canada to get you. He’s mean enough. They’re about an hour behind is all.’ He smiled quickly. ‘Mister, you ain’t got much of a chance. No sir, not much of a chance.’

  ‘For a loser I’m not doing too bad,’ Jacob said. ‘It’s you on the wrong end of this gun, not me. Now you think on before you say any more.’

  Keeping the man covered Jacob moved over to the man’s horse. He released the man’s saddlebags and emptied the contents on to the ground. Sorting through them Jacob took a box of ammunition, a sheathed knife and a half-bottle of whisky. Then he took the rope that was coiled up on the saddle and went over to where the rider stood watching him sullenly.

  ‘On your face, pilgrim,’ Jacob said.

  The rider looked at the muddy ground at his feet and a protest rose in his throat. He never uttered it, for Jacob laid his rifle butt across his jaw again.

  The rider dropped like a stone and Jacob turned him over on to his face, pulling the rider’s hands behind him. Quickly Jacob roped the man’s wrists together and then hauled the groggy man to the nearest tree and tied him to it securely. Before he left him Jacob emptied the cartridge loops on the man’s gun belt.

  On his way back to the canyon he picked up the rider’s rifle. Jacob jacked out all the shells, then smashed the rifle against a rock.

  Nancy was sitting by the horses, her rifle in her hands when he got back. Jacob told her what had happened.

  ‘Then we haven’t got as big a lead as we thought we had,’ she said.

  ‘No. You ready to ride?’

  Nancy nodded. They mounted up and Jacob led out along the canyon, then back on to the faint trail that led to Youngtown.

  Now, Jacob knew, they had little time to linger. Retford and his bunch were close, too close. As he rode Jacob’s mind worked swiftly. He wanted no more contact with Kyle Retford if he could avoid it. Contact would only mean one thing. Gunplay, more killing, and now Nancy was involved. There was only one thing for Jacob to do and that was to get her as far away as possible, and hope that Kyle would eventually tire of the chase. That was a faint hope, Jacob knew, but it was all he could do. It was all that was available to him until something better showed itself, if it ever did.

  They rode as fast as they could. The rain had turned the ground to soft, clinging mud that made riding a risky proposition. The trail took them through forest and canyon, along narrow ways that clung to the sides of high mountain slopes. They crossed numerous streams and once they had to ford a fairly wide creek in full spate.

  Hours slid by unnoticed. Noon came and went, the afternoon drew on, and through it all as they rode the rain fell. It maintained its steady downpour, never once slacking off, or even showing signs of slacking off.

  Late afternoon found them on the lower slopes of the mountain range, riding over terrain that was more rock than anything else. Here and there the trail petered out completely, but Nancy knew the way and she took them through without hesitation.

  The sky above them was dark and heavy, thick with great swollen storm-clouds, and Jacob realised that they were in for even worse weather than they already had. In a way, though, he thought, a bad storm might help them. The Retford bunch would have a hard time trailing them in a bad storm. Jacob considered, and decided that if a storm did hit, he and Nancy would try to keep going, throughout the night if need be. If they could keep their lead and reach Youngtown ahead of the Retfords they might yet keep on top of the situation.

  Chapter Seven

  The storm struck at about eight o’clock. The black night was shattered by deep-rolling thunder and sudden, vivid flashes of lightning. The skies seemed to open and a deluge of rain tumbled on to a land that was already over-watered. Streams and creeks, long since filled to their banks foamed and overflowed as more water was added to what was there.

  The outset of the storm found Jacob and Nancy riding across a high meadow, with no cover closer than a mile away. Riding close to Nancy, Jacob put a hand on her arm.

  ‘You stay close now,’ he said. ‘It may get a little rough. I don’t want us to be separated.’

  Nancy nodded, her face stark white as lightning crackled and hissed in the black sky.

  ‘You all right?’ Jacob asked.

  ‘I will be,’ she said. She leaned forward and spoke soothing words to her nervous horse.

  Jacob had told her of his intention to keep going if they could, and Nancy had agreed. They might, she had said, be able to reach Youngtown by morning if they kept going.

  Since leaving the canyon they had ridden without pause. Once, as they crossed a rocky ridge, Jacob had looked back and had seen the Retf
ord bunch coming out of some trees a long way back, high above where Jacob and Nancy rode. The distance was far beyond rifle range. Jacob hadn’t told Nancy. She was taking things well and he saw no reason to give her cause for worry.

  As they crossed the rain-swept meadow, with the dark sky splitting with thunder and lightning, Jacob wondered where the Retfords were at that moment. He had seen no more of them, but he knew they were still following. Somewhere in those dark, cold hills they were still riding, guns ready, just waiting for the chance to have him in their sights. Jacob didn’t try to fool himself. Kyle Retford wouldn’t bother with a rope now. Every one of his men would be riding on the promise of a fat bonus for the man who killed Jacob Tyler. There was nothing complicated about it. He was the prey for a bunch of hunters out for blood money. And now Nancy was right in the middle of it. That more than anything made Jacob angry. They would know she was with him, but it didn’t stop them. And knowing the kind of men they were, he didn’t think they would stop short of killing her too if the point ever came up. Jacob watched her as she rode just ahead of him, her back curved against the cold rain, even though she had put on the thick short coat from behind her saddle. She was some girl, he thought. Even now she showed no sign of giving up. And not once had he heard her pass one word of complaint. A girl like that was worth riding through hell for, and he knew that he would make the Retfords pay dearly if they caused her any harm.

  From behind him came the sudden whip crack report of a rifle, then another. Jacob reined in, jerking his horse’s head round. As he turned he saw, in the lurid glare of more lightning, the strung out riders of Kyle Retford’s bunch. They were still some distance away, only just within rifle-range, but they were coming on fast.

  Anger jerked at Jacob’s inside as he realised how close Retford’s bunch was. His anger was directed at his own laxity at allowing the Retfords to get so close. He wondered how they had done it, but only briefly, for it didn’t really matter now how they had done it. What mattered now was what he had to do.

  Nancy had reined in at the sound of the shots, throwing a glance over her shoulder. She turned to Jacob as he drew level with her. He pulled his rifle free from its sheath, levering a shell into the chamber.

  ‘Ride, Nancy. Just ride,’ he said, ‘and don’t look back.’

  Together they spurred their horses forward, giving the animals free rein, and both horses, sensing the urgency of the situation, took to running like they’d never known any other way of moving.

  As they rode they could hear the rifles cracking behind them, but they were still beyond range. Jacob hoped they could keep their small lead. If they did they might reach the cover that lay on the far side of the meadow. There the land rose into an area of wooded hills, and it would offer ample cover, provide a place to fight from if the need arose.

  Jacob let Nancy ride ahead of him, keeping his horse more or less in line behind her. He wanted to be able to cover her if any of Retford’s men got close enough to do any serious shooting.

  As lightning lit up the sky Jacob twisted in his saddle. The Retford bunch was still there, and closing the gap some, he saw. He considered returning fire, but dismissed the idea. He was in no position to do any accurate shooting and he had no time to set himself for steady fire.

  The distance to the edge of the meadow lessened, and relief washed over Jacob as he saw the dark mass of trees and brush coming closer. Once in there he and Nancy would be able to make a stand if the need arose, or maybe even lose themselves before the Retford bunch could get to them.

  And then, just as Nancy reached the first stand of trees, a single rifle shot split the night air. Nancy’s horse stumbled, faltered. For a moment Jacob thought the animal would go down, but Nancy pulled hard on the reins, near-enough pulling the horse up bodily. Seconds later the horse plunged into the dark mass of brush, Jacob following close behind.

  Coming out of his saddle Jacob turned and faced the oncoming riders. He let them get in close before he opened up, his rifle fire raking the line of men and horses. He saw one man leave his saddle and hit the ground hard, falling in that limp way that only comes from being hard hit. He sighted again and fired, saw another man sag, then rein away, cursing loudly.

  And then they were all dropping back, pulling away until they were out of range of his rifle, grouping together to add up the score before they came again.

  Nancy appeared out of the shadows, her face pale, but angry.

  ‘You hurt?’ Jacob asked.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘That shot hit my horse, Jacob. Her sides all bloody and she’s bleeding from the mouth.’

  ‘You had her a long time?’

  Nancy nodded, her eyes suddenly moist. ‘Grandpa reared her from the day she was born. Nobody else has ever ridden her.’ She rubbed her hand across her eyes. ‘Look at me,’ she murmured, trying to hide her upset.

  ‘I’d feel the same way if I lost that big chestnut of mine.’

  Nancy smiled briefly.

  There was a confusion of noise behind them, a crashing of brush and a heavy, laboured snorting.

  ‘Oh, Jacob.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Nancy,’ Jacob said. ‘You know what to do?’

  ‘Is there no other way for her?’

  ‘Only the slow way, and that can take a long time and bring a lot of pain.’

  Nancy turned away and vanished into the brush and Jacob watched the bunch of riders huddled beneath their slickers out on the rain-drenched meadow. They hadn’t moved for some time now. He would have given a lot to have known what they were talking about.

  The sound of a handgun shot told him that Nancy hadn’t shirked her responsibility. Not that he had expected her to. It must have come hard to her, having to shoot the mare. It meant another link with her family gone. Maybe the last. She’d had a long run of bad luck. Jacob hoped he could help to change that run for her. When they got out of this mess, though, he told himself.

  They had another problem now. Two of them and only one horse. Big as he was, Jacob’s chestnut wouldn’t go too far carrying double. Certainly not in this kind of terrain. Certainly not fast enough to keep ahead of the Retfords.

  In the time it took to realise the situation Jacob came up with the solution. It wasn’t to his liking, but that was by the way. It was the only sane way. The only common sense way to be hopeful of this turning out right for him and Nancy.

  He waited for her to come back. There were tears in her eyes, but she said nothing about the incident.

  ‘Have they moved?’ she asked.

  ‘Not yet. When they do they’ll move fast and we won’t have much time for talk, so listen good, because I’m only going to say this once. I’ll take no arguments neither. You’ll do what I say and when I say it.’

  ‘All right, Jacob.’

  ‘You’ll find a canvas bag in my saddlebags. Put my half of the food in it and divide the ammunition up. Leave me one of the canteens and my rope. You put your saddlebags on my horse, take your rifle, and the spare canteen.’ Jacob caught the gleam in her eye, saw the protest rising in her. ‘Then you get on that chestnut and light out for Youngtown fast while I keep the boys out there company.’

  ‘No, Jacob, not that.’

  ‘No arguments we agreed. Don’t make a fuss, Nancy. One horse, two people. How far would we get?’

  ‘But we’d be together.’

  ‘For how long? You know the Retfords. You’d just be someone else in the way. I won’t take that chance. You head for Youngtown, get help. I’ll keep this bunch on the run. I’ll manage. Back in Texas before the war, me and my brothers had us a cow outfit right in the middle of Comanche country and we survived that because we learned to fight the Comanche his way. The Retfords don’t rate anywhere near Comanches.’

  ‘But what if they kill you, Jacob? You’re all I have left now. If I lose you, what then?’ She threw her arms round him, held him close. ‘I daren’t lose you, Jacob, please understand. Please.’

  ‘Then do what I say. There’s no
other way round this, Nancy. If there was I wouldn’t hesitate to use it. This way we have a chance to come out together, and that means everything.’

  She broke away from him and began to divide their supplies, when she came to the coffee she put it and the pot and mug into Jacob’s bag. He’d be needing that more than she would. She also put in the whisky and the knife he’d taken from the Retford man back at the canyon. She took the bag and his canteen and his rope to where he crouched beside a tree.

  ‘I’m ready,’ she said.

  Jacob put out a hand and drew her to him. He kissed her, hard, held her close for a time. He couldn’t find words that might fit so he didn’t speak until he let her go.

  ‘Now you take that horse and you ride and don’t you stop until you get to Youngtown. Promise me that.’

  ‘All right, Jacob.’ Nancy glanced out across the meadow to where the Retford bunch still sat waiting. ‘Don’t you let them get close. I want you alive, Jacob Tyler, alive and well.’

  And then she turned and went into the dark-shadowed brush. Jacob heard the creak of leather and then the sound of hooves on the wet earth, and then there was nothing.

  He turned his full attention to the Retford bunch. They were having a real long talk it looked like. Jacob wished they would get down to some action. At least then he would know what was what.

  Casting about he surveyed the surrounding terrain. On all sides were high slopes, plentifully covered with timber. From now on he was going to be conducting a running fight. He was on foot and he would need plenty of good cover. Up in those wooded slopes he would be able to move about pretty quickly, and maybe he could keep the Retford bunch on the move too. He had to give Nancy enough time to get far away. He wanted her clear off this mountain.

  Jacob slid his coiled rope up his arm to his shoulder, did the same with his canteen and the canvas bag. He filled up the magazine of his rifle, checked that his holstered handgun and the one in his belt were also fully loaded.