Blue assigned the three-man guard duties for the night, and picked with forethought the position from which each guard would stand his watch. There was one natural advantage to the situation of that night's camp. No one could get at them directly from either steep-walled side of the pass. Any night attack would have to come through the pass behind them, or ahead of them…
When Haycox was wakened for his turn at guard duty shortly before midnight, he saw that it was still snowing. He picked up his rifle and moved through the darkness to take up his position, the last vestige of sleepiness quickly left behind, his mind sharply alert as he reviewed his plans.
He'd thought them out nights ago, after Cora had made it obvious that she found him repulsive, that she'd played him for a sucker back there in Parrish. He'd decided that night that he would switch sides and go over to Adler. But that was not all he had decided to do. And he'd waited patiently for the right situation.
Now he had it. There were only two other guards beside himself tonight. And the falling snow would wipe out his tracks before anyone could start trailing him at dawn.
Adler would pay him triple money for changing sides. But Haycox wanted more than that. And he was quite sure Adler would pay him more-much more-for having Cora delivered to him as a hostage.
Haycox waited, watching the dark shapeless forms of the men sleeping on the ground by the wagons, giving the three men who'd just been relieved from guard duty time to get deep into their sleep. He knew the positions of the other two guards. He was fairly sure he could accomplish what he had to before either of them noticed. They weren't likely to be looking his way.
Haycox allowed a half hour to go by. Then he left his guard position and slipped away in a low crouch toward the spot where he'd watched Cora bed down. He moved slowly and quietly, making no sound as he approached her. Coming to a stop a few feet away, he studied the way her dark form lay in the shadows, locating the position of her head just showing out of the blanket wrapped around her. Then he drew one of his Colts and closed in, bending over her. He raised the gun a few inches, then whipped it sharply against the side of her head.
It was a controlled blow, not too hard. Just hard enough to knock her out instantly. She quivered, not coming out of sleep; then rolled on her back and lay still. Haycox had struck her with exactly the force he'd intended, neither more nor less. It wouldn't damage her much. She'd remain unconscious just long enough for him to get away with her.
Crouching over her, Haycox took a careful look around, saw no sign that what he'd done had been seen or heard. Sliding the Colt back into its holster, he stripped the blanket from her. She'd gone to sleep fully dressed, even to her boots, like the rest of them. Haycox got his arms under her thighs and back, and lifted her from the ground.
It was hard going, carrying Cora's inert weight. He was panting when he got her to one of the openings between the wagons. Putting her down on the ground by a wagon wheel, Haycox stood there for a few moments getting his breath back. Then he untied the ropes stretched between the two wagons. He slipped inside and walked his horse out, making as little noise as possible. His gear was close at hand where he'd placed it before bedding down. He saddled the horse with swift, efficient movements, slid his rifle into the scabbard.
He was about to go in to get another horse for Cora when a voice said quietly behind him, "What the hell're you up to?"
Haycox turned quickly, hand touching the gun on his right hip. It was one of the other guards, a teamster named Murchison. Haycox cursed himself for having become too preoccupied to notice his approach. But the teamster didn't act suspicious, only puzzled.
"Think I saw something move back down the pass," Haycox told him softly. "I'm going for a look."
"By yourself? You shouldn't…" The words trailed off as Murchison, glancing downward, saw Cora for the first time. "What the…"
Haycox already had his gun in hand and was slashing it across the other man's temple. But Murchison's cry of surprise was out, too loud, before the gun barrel struck. Even as he fell dark figures were coming up off the ground by the wagons as men were jerked out of sleep by the sound, rising to their knees and feet.
With the camp exploding awake around him, there was no longer time to get the other horse. Haycox bent quickly and grabbed up Cora's sprawled figure, slung her across his horse in front of the saddle. The next second he'd vaulted onto the horse and was racing away down the pass.
He was out of sight before anyone in the camp could begin to find out what was going on.
***
Clayburn rode into the other pass with the Apaches racing after him. He went across it pushing the sorrel hard all the way. The snow was getting deeper, and a couple of times the sorrel stumbled getting through heavy drifts. Once Clayburn almost had to let go of the rope that pulled Roud's horse along behind him. But he'd had a head start on his pursuers and the ground snow was slowing them, too.
He reached the other side of the pass still beyond accurate range of the Apache rifles. Working up the timbered slope there, he sped on to the east, leading the Apaches off in the opposite direction from Cora's wagon train. He kept going due east until nightfall.
With the coming of dark, Clayburn turned north, rode into a thick stand of timber, and drew to a halt. Minutes later he heard the sounds of the Apache ponies going past his hiding place, though he couldn't see them.
He waited until the sounds faded out to the east of him. Then he climbed down from the run-out sorrel. Switching to Roud's horse and bringing the sorrel along by the lead rope, Clayburn rode out of the thick timber and struck toward the south.
With the night, the falling snow, and the heavy overcast of cloud blotting out stars and moon, there was no danger of the Apaches finding his trail. And by dawn there'd be none of his tracks left in the area to tell them he'd changed direction.
Clayburn continued south for a time. Then he turned west, crossing the other pass there and heading back toward the pass his own outfit was using. It was a long ride.
It stopped snowing an hour before he reached the wagon camp. This time it had the look of not starting again for a while. The overcast was breaking up into separate clouds; stars began to show themselves. Clayburn rode into the pass and turned north. Before long he sighted the dark mass of the bunched wagons ahead.
When he was within hailing distance of the guard positions Clayburn called out, identifying himself. As he rode into the camp he saw with surprise that the whole crew was up, gathering around him swiftly. By the time he had both feet on the ground they'd told him what had happened.
It was Murchison that told him about Cora. "She was unconscious. Haycox must've knocked her out. Soon's I saw her lay in' there I started to yell. Next thing I knew I was comin' to on the ground with this headache."
"We went after him," Kosta said heavily. "But he lost us. And it was too damn dark to find his trail."
Clayburn was silent for a few moments. He seemed to be gathering himself up out of his wariness. He drew a hand across his haggard face and turned to Ranse Blue. There was a hard, flat look to his stare. When he spoke his voice was soft and steady.
"Which way'd he go?"
Blue pointed south with his thumb. "Back down the pass. But he must've cut off from it somewhere. We went after him, and goin' faster than he could've with his horse carrying double. We'd've caught him if he'd stuck to the pass."
Blue glanced up at the sky. "But it looks like Haycox made a little mistake. He figured the snow'd cover his tracks. Only now it's stopped snowin' and he'll be makin' a nice clear trail. I figured at dawn a bunch of us could circle around back there till we find his back trail, and…"
"How long before it stopped snowing did Haycox head out?" Clayburn cut in.
"About two hours. A little less."
Clayburn shook his head. "Take a lot of time to find where his tracks start. And we can't spare the men. We're shorthanded as it is."
He told them then about Jim Roud-and the Apaches. "We're well
to the west of them, and in a couple days we'll be well north of them. But meanwhile they could find us and make enough trouble to hold up the wagons. Especially if too many men are off hunting Haycox. I'll go after him, alone. Till I get back you're in charge of keeping the wagons on the move."
Clayburn turned to Kosta. "Fix me something to eat. And hot coffee. A lot of it."
"You said no fires at night," Kosta reminded him.
Clayburn repeated himself, "Fix me a meal. And coffee."
Kosta started to do so without another word.
"Get me two fresh horses ready," Clayburn told Blue.
The old man looked dubious. "One man alone'll take a helluva long time to find Haycox's back trail. Besides, you ain't got a chance till it gets light."
Clayburn rubbed his hands restlessly against his thighs. "I won't be hunting for his back trail. If I'm thinking straight, he's headed for Adler's outfit. Adler'd pay a lot to get Cora Sorel in his hand. He could force her to sell her freight to him, at his price, with a legal written contract. And use her to make us hand over the wagons."
Blue nodded slowly. "Could be…So you figure he'll head south down the other pass to meet up with Adler's wagon train. And all you got to do is ride the same trail, only faster."
"His horse is carrying double," Clayburn said evenly, "and I'll have two. If I sight Adler's wagons without coming across Haycox or his tracks it'll be because I've passed him. If so, I'll turn back and keep looking. One way or the other, I'm going to get to Haycox before he gets to Adler."
"If he's on his way to Adler," Blue put in. "You could be wrong."
"I'd better not be."
When Kosta had the pan of hot beans and bacon ready, Clayburn made himself eat all of it. He had no appetite, only an irritable impatience to be on his way. But he hadn't eaten since noon, and he was going to need it. He was worn out from riding and there was more riding to do. And there'd be no sleep for him this night. He gulped down scalding hot coffee without tasting or feeling it, held out the cup for a refill and drank that down too before finishing the last of his food.
As Kosta poured him a third cup, Clayburn told him to fix him a food bag sufficient for a couple days.
"I already did," Kosta said. "Biscuits, salt beef and cooked beans. And your canteen's filled, too."
Clayburn drank the rest of the coffee and rose to his feet. Blue voiced one last objection: "I still don't like the idea of you goin' after Haycox alone. That one's a real deadly breed of snake."
"I've killed snakes before," Clayburn told him, and went to the horses.
FIFTEEN
Several hours after noon Haycox came to a place where the land heaved up in a series of snow-covered hills that separated two mountain slopes a mile apart. He was on foot, leading his tired horse and pushing Cora on ahead of him. She stumbled with every other step, apparently ready to collapse.
Haycox found that his own legs were getting heavy. But the horse needed the rest from carrying them. Haycox decided to let the animal have another fifteen minutes. Then it would have to carry them again. He didn't care if it finally died from the effort, as long as it got them to Adler.
He started up the slope of a hill, prodding Cora's back hard with his fist to make her climb. She staggered up ahead of him, each step an obvious effort. When she reached the crest of the hill she let her legs give way and sat down in the snow. Drawing up her legs, she wrapped her arms around them and put her forehead down on her knees.
Haycox halted beside her and gazed south down the pass, hoping to see Adler's wagons coming toward him. They weren't in sight yet. Fingers nervously caressing the butt of one gun, Haycox turned and looked back the way he'd come. There was no one in sight there either. But he could see only too clearly the tracks he'd left behind, sharply visible all the way back to a line of trees half a mile to the north.
He hadn't figured that it would stop snowing as soon as it had. But he consoled himself with the thought that they wouldn't have been able to start tracking him till dawn; and even then it was bound to have taken them a couple of hours to find where his trail started. He still had plenty of time to get to Adler's outfit before anyone following his trail caught up with him. He was counting on that.
Haycox looked down at Cora coldly. "Get up and get moving."
Her head remained on her knees. She gave no sign that she heard him.
"I said get up!"
Cora raised her head, but otherwise did not move. "I can't. I have to rest."
"You'll get your rest later," Haycox told her in that peculiar, empty voice of his. "And don't make me repeat my orders. If I had the time I'd teach you how to obey. You're long overdue for a rough lesson."
She almost smiled. "But you don't have the time, do you? You're scared stiff they'll catch…"
He slapped her, moving too fast for her to dodge it. The sound of his palm against her cheek was sharp and loud. Cora fell over on her side and lay there looking up at him. There was no fear in her face, only hate.
"You'll either get up," he told her, "or I'll start kicking you. Hard."
She got her feet under her and stood up, swaying.
But she was not as weary as she looked. She was merely doing everything she could think of to slow their progress. She had started doing so shortly after she came to on his horse during the night. Picking a place were the snow looked deep and soft, she'd fallen off the horse. That had forced Haycox to stop, climb down and pick her up. And she'd pretended to be semiconscious, going limp to make it harder for him to get her and himself back on the horse.
She'd done it again a few minutes later. After that he'd had to give a lot of his attention to holding her from falling. The rest of the time that she rode, Cora leaned all the weight she could forward against the horse's neck to tire it faster. When she walked, she staggered.
She staggered now. as Haycox pushed her ahead of him. At the bottom of the slope she dropped to her knees, head sagging.
Haycox stopped and looked at her viciously. "I meant what I said about kicking you."
"I'm too exhausted to go much farther, no matter what you do to me. And if you kick me to death I won't be worth much to Adler."
"I won't have to kill you," Haycox told her, smiling. "You're like your mules when they get a touch of the whip. You'll be surprised how a little pain can make you keep going a lot longer than you think you can."
Cora got up very slowly. They went through a short, narrow opening between two hill slopes, came out the other side…
Clayburn's voice said behind them, "Stand right there."
Cora didn't have to be told what to do. She did it instantly, dropping flat to the ground to leave Haycox a clearly exposed target. Haycox whirled around, his hands flashing to the grips of his guns. He stopped himself with the guns halfway out of their holsters.
Clayburn leaned against the side of a notch in the hill-slope, holding his carbine trained on Haycox's middle. Behind him, deeper inside the notch, were his two horses.
Haycox forced his fingers to spread open, letting the two Colts slide back into place in their holsters.
Clayburn straightened a bit. His eyes had a dull shine to them in a face that appeared sleepy. "Now unbuckle your guns."
Haycox remained frozen in position, hands still poised over the grips of his guns. "You're wearing a gun on your hip," he whispered tightly. "Put the rifle down and we'll both have an even chance."
"Not so even," Clayburn said without heat. "You made the mistake of showing me how fast you are."
"You're saying you're afraid of me?"
"Uh-huh. I'm afraid. Now either go for your guns or drop them. You've got two seconds to decide."
Haycox stared at the round dark eye of the carbine aimed at his stomach. His hands went to the buckles of his gun-belts, unfastened them and let them fall to the snow.
"Now kick them away from you," Clayburn told him in the same monotonous tone.
Haycox hesitated, then hooked a toe under each gun-belt and k
icked them away. "If you're going to shoot me down…"
"If I was going to shoot you down without a chance, I'd have done it by now. You wanted a fair duel. You'll have one."
Haycox frowned slightly. "I don't understand."
"You will."
Cora was rising to her feet. Clayburn glanced at her, seeing the imprint of Haycox's hand on her face. "Did he hurt you much?"
She touched her cheek. "I didn't enjoy it. You were near enough to hear. Why didn't you stop him?"
"He might have spotted me before I could get behind him," Clayburn explained unemotionally. "Your friend is too good with those guns. I figured you could take a slap better than I can take a bullet."
"You are yellow," Haycox sneered, still clinging to a faint hope of goading the other man into a fast-draw contest.
Clayburn told Cora in a lazy voice, "Move farther away from him."
Cora obeyed immediately, watching them.
Clayburn motioned at Haycox by raising the carbine an inch. "Back up three steps."
Haycox backed away slowly, like a man in a trance, not knowing what came next. Clayburn moved to Haycox's horse, drew the rifle from its saddle scabbard and checked it. He levered a cartridge into the fire chamber, thrust the rifle back into the scabbard. Then he backed off into the notch in the hillside and brought out one of his horses.
"Come back beside your horse," he told Haycox.
The puzzled look was gone from the killer's face. He moved up beside his saddle with all of his usual smooth-flowing grace. Clayburn unbuckled his own gunbelt and let it fall. Then he slid his carbine into the saddle boot of the horse beside him, and faced Haycox with his hands empty. He still looked sleepy, but something savage glowed in the depths of his green eyes.
"Understand now?"
"No." But Haycox did understand.
"You wanted to try your speed against mine," Clayburn said softly. "Let's try it with something neither of us've spent all that time practicing."
Last Train to Bannock [Clayburn 02] Page 11
