Their horses raced onward--half a mile to go. Minowayuh’s stallion, though large and strong, was carrying double and beginning to tire. Michael’s little mare was gaining on him. So was the enemy.
Glancing ahead, Michael saw the last plane strafing Wayne. He and Dan had split up for the same reason Michael had angled away from Minowayuh and Di earlier. Suddenly Wayne’s horse staggered and fell. As she went down, Wayne kicked free of the stirrups and jumped clear. He rolled to his feet, rifle in his hands, firing steady, carefully aimed shots. Emptying his rifle at the pilot who had killed his horse.
Michael veered toward him, thinking he could snag his friend on the run, but the pilot of the ultralight had other ideas. He banked the plane sharply around and came at Wayne low and level. Wayne stood his ground, calmly reloading his rifle, watching death fly at him.
Michael was close enough now to see the dark stains on Wayne’s back and to realize his friend had been hit earlier. The pilot fired first and Wayne lurched from the punishing impact of bullets.
Through sheer will-power he remained on his feet, slowly bringing his rifle to his shoulder. Taking deliberate aim, as if he had all the time in the world, he fired a single round through the body of the pilot and into the gas tank of the ultralight, converting it into a blazing ball of flame. Only then did he fall, a peaceful smile on his face. Wayne was back with his family.
Michael was out of ammo, leaning forward over his horse’s neck like a jockey running the Kentucky Derby.
Dan Osaka lurched from side to side in his saddle not far in front of Michael. Blood stained his lower left side. His horse was flagging and Michael could see the frothy blood bursting forth from a lung shot in the mount’s chest. As Michael’s mare sped by he slid back onto her rump, leaned over and plucked Dan from his mount. Dan grunted as Michael planted him on the gallant mare.
“Good to see you,” he gasped.
Michael leaned into him and said, “Shut up and hang on.” Be damned if he’d lose another friend tonight.
Minowayuh and Lady Di shot through the mouth of the trap just twenty yards in front of Michael and Dan. They raced for the rocks at the back of the canyon, the enemy nipping at their heels, screaming in triumph.
As the remnants of Michael’s squad dashed into the gap between the rocks a shrill whistle split the air...the signal to open fire. Twenty machine guns tore into the enemy soldiers, ripping them to shreds. Ten mortars, under Lieutenant Parsons, destroyed what the machine guns couldn’t reach. Caught in the vicious crossfire there was nothing to do but die and die they did: spectacularly. Pieces of bodies flew through the air. Heads exploded like rotten fruit. Horses screamed louder than men. A few of the enemy soldiers were seen leaning into that hail of lead like they were forging their way through a hard rain before they were cut down. The massacre was over in less than five minutes.
The Allies busied themselves cleaning up, administering the coup de grace to enemy wounded and searching bodies for important papers. The moon rose high over the peaks, adding an eerie beauty to a scene straight out of hell, as moonlight glistened in pools of fresh blood.
*
Jesus! Anthony thought as he scrambled over the rim of the canyon and flopped on his stomach to rest. He’d never seen anything like it. If he hadn’t been well to the back of the charge... Not that it was his fault he brought up the rear. No horse that could carry a man his size was built for speed.
Now what? Damn! John at least managed to save Jamal from the Breckenridge fiasco. John hadn’t lost his entire command. Tony could hear the rotten-toothed bastard laughing at him and he ground his teeth so hard his jaws ached. He could face anything but that.
*
Later that morning, when the enemy dead were buried in a single mass grave, the Allies discovered there were only ninety-three bodies. The Giant was not among them. Somehow, in the confusion and darkness, he had slipped away.
The single Allied fatality was Wayne Anderson. Dan Osaka, fresh from the operating table, demanded to be carried out on a stretcher so that he could attend his friend’s funeral. Michael, Minowayuh and Lady Di buried Wayne where he fell, piling stones high over his grave to keep the animals out, offering a prayer for his soul, shedding tears for a courageous friend.
Chapter 26: Tracking a Giant
Michael was saddling a fresh horse when Adam Young and Minowayuh strode up. The Colonel got right to the point, as usual.
“You going after him?”
“Have to,” Michael answered, snugging a cinch strap.
“Listen Captain...Michael,” Adam amended. This would be better done informally. “I know we can’t allow him to get away. He saw our set-up here and he’s smart enough to recognize it if he’s involved the next time we use it.”
“But,” Michael added for him.
“But this is the first time since the helicopter raid on the Freeholds we’ve seen proof they have air power. You’re one of the few pilots we’ve got. I need you to go to Provo to build, train and lead our own air force.”
Michael slung his saddle bags and bedroll behind his saddle and started tying them down. What Adam was saying made a certain amount of sense. Michael knew the Allies needed an air force badly, but he also knew, with gut-certain knowledge, that the Giant was as important to the King as planes were to the Allies. He didn’t care if the Giant was the King’s son or not. That man had to die.
Besides, Michael had always been more of a doer than a leader. He knew he could track down the Giant, but he wasn’t so certain of his ability to command. He wished Aaron was still around. Aside from just plain missing him and his uncanny flying ability, he’d have been just the guy to develop and lead an air force. And if Dan hadn’t lost an eye all those years ago...
“I’ll make it an order if I have to,” Adam added softly, having learned that persuasion worked better than threats with men like Michael.
Michael finished lashing down his gear and turned to Adam, saying, “I’ve listened to you, Colonel and I agree we need air power. But I’m asking you to hear me out before you set your mind in concrete.”
Adam started to interrupt, but Michael raised his right hand, palm out, stopping him.
“You may think I’ll do a good job of building us an air force, Colonel, but you know I’m far and away the best tracker you have.”
Minowayuh gave Michael a look that said he might have a thing or two to say about that, but he held his peace.
“Now we all know,” Michael continued, “that the best tracker is one who can get inside his prey’s head and I know that son-of-a-bitch better than anybody here.” Michael went on, telling Adam about his first encounter with the Giant, about the insight he’d gained into the way the man’s mind worked when Michael survived both his booby trap and his ultralights. Michael added, “If we don’t get him now, he’ll keep coming up with new and deadlier surprises. He’s intelligent. Maybe he’ll see through our strategy during the final battle, recognize the trap and cause it to fail. And if that happens, no amount of air force will be able to haul our asses out of the fire.”
“But...” Adam tried to get a word in.
“Quit trying to interrupt me, Colonel.”
Adam colored slightly at the insubordination, but held his tongue.
“I still have a couple more points to make. First of all, while we call him the Giant, my daughter Mary says the enemy calls him Prince John. That isn’t just a nickname. We know he really is King Joseph’s son. If we could capture him we’d have some leverage against his old man. And second, on a different tack, you were probably going to launch a full-scale manhunt for him, weren’t you?”
Even though he wasn’t used to such back-talk, Adam was one of those rare commanders who could be reasoned with. He certainly wasn’t the kind of military leader who wanted to be surrounded by “Yes” men. Besides, Adam had formed a grudging respect for the man arguing with him. If even half the things people said about him were true...
Adam nodded and Michael cou
ld see the wheels turning as Adam thought about what he’d said.
“Well, Colonel, if you do that you’ll accomplish two things. First, you’ll obscure what few tracks the man left, making it impossible to trail him. And second, you’ll tip him off that he’s seen something other than a well-executed ambush. He’ll wonder how we knew he was missing. You’ll be telling him we had an accurate count of the enemy before we sprung the trap. He’ll wonder why such an accurate count was so important.
“I’m telling you, Colonel, I know how this guy thinks and right now he has no idea that he’s witnessed anything other than a deadly ambush; but if we give him cause to think about it, he’ll figure out that what he survived is worth more than just your standard military-action appraisal. This guy’s smart. Those ultralights of his almost killed my whole squad, snatching the cheese right out of the jaws of our nicely baited trap. The last thing we need is to get him thinking about the implications last night’s action might have on our overall military strategy.”
Michael changed tack again. “Right now you probably think he’s heading for the Nephi area, don’t you?”
Adam nodded thoughtfully and even Minowayuh looked intrigued by Michael’s question.
“Well, he’s not,” Michael charged on. “He’s looking for a place to lie low. He’s seething at having been tricked and just aching to hit back at us. He doesn’t have a clue that we know he’s escaped. He’ll expect to be hunted if we come across his tracks, but he can’t know that we’re already hunting him.
“Counting the Freeholds raid, this is the second time he’s lost to us and he’s a man with a lot of pride. He’s not going to be too eager to report another failure to his father. He’ll want to be able to report a success at the same time.”
“Okay, Michael,” Adam said. “What do you think he’ll do?”
“At first, the same as any one of us. He’ll watch his back trail to see if he’s being followed. Once he finds out he’s not he’ll contact other enemy units and while he’s assembling his new force he’ll scout us. He wants us, Colonel. He wants us bad. And I don’t think he’ll go back to his father until he takes another shot at us.”
Minowayuh was nodding in agreement. Adam just said, with typical bluntness, “So what do you propose?”
“Let Minowayuh and I find him. We’ll either kill him, or capture him...if we can do so safely,” Michael swiftly added, seeing Adam start to set his jaw. “Or we’ll just scout him while he’s scouting us and we’ll turn whatever trap he sets around on him.”
“I like it,” Adam agreed and saw Michael’s eyebrows rise. “Oh, don’t look so surprised.”
He turned back toward the camp, then stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “You’ve got five days--after which, you head for Provo.” Adam adjusted his uniform and marched out of the remuda.
“Whew!” Minowayuh said. “I thought for a second you were headed for a court martial.”
“The Colonel’s not such a bad sort,” Michael replied and was surprised to find he meant it. “Besides,” he added with a gleam in his eye, “if he threw me in the stockade Ellen would throw a fit.”
Minowayuh raised his eyebrows. “You think that’d stop him?”
“Nah! If he had just cause, he’d shoot me himself and explain to her afterward.”
“That’s what I thought.” said Minowayuh, his gold tooth showing through his grin. “Oh and thanks for volunteering me, Kemo Sabe.”
Michael looked him square in the eye and smiled a big toothy smile. “Anytime, Chief.”
“Hell, I must be getting old and easy,” the Ute said as he started saddling up. “But how are you going to explain to Lady Di that you volunteered me and neglected to do the same for her? She’s going to be royally pissed off.”
“Easy,” Michael shrugged. “I’ll leave that to you.”
“What?” Minowayuh almost dropped his rifle scabbard.
“She’s an adult woman with a mind of her own and she’s a damn good warrior who carries her own weight as part of this squad. So if she wants to come along she’s welcome.”
“Well put,” Di said, giving the men a start as she stepped from the bushes with her gear slung over her back. “I won’t be a minute.”
She slapped her saddle onto a horse and busied herself with the cinch straps. As she tugged one tight, she arched her brows and looked over her saddle at the two men. With her normally slight British accent becoming more pronounced she added, “I would have been (she pronounced been “bean”) extremely disappointed in you two if you had attempted to leave me behind. Do I make myself clear?”
If Ellen could have heard the two men answering, “Yes, Ma’am,” in unison she would have cracked up. As it was, they all three burst out laughing so hard they startled their mounts. The horses’ antics, tugging at their reins and sidestepping fast enough to roll two still-loose saddles halfway around till they were hanging under their bellies, got the three to laughing even harder. And suddenly they were in the midst of one of those fits where everybody’s laughing and nobody knows why, but isn’t it all just really hilarious. Every time they’d start to get it under control one of them would chuckle and they’d all three lose it again.
When they finally stopped Michael had a stitch in his side, but he felt good. He hadn’t laughed so hard in years.
The three mounted up and rode out, chuckles subsiding as they came back to reality and focused on their task: man hunting.
“He’d have run hard at first,” Minoway said. “Won’t have taken time to cover his tracks.”
“Sergeant Buell swears no one got out past his men,” Di added.
“Adam’s sure he didn’t escape through the back of the canyon,” Michael said. “And Walt Beeman found his plow horse all shot to hell, so he’s on foot.”
“Means he climbed out,” Minoway said. “So we’ll likely cut his sign near the base of the cliffs.”
It took two slow trips around the perimeter of the valley before Michael found a partial print in soft earth at the foot of a cliff.
“Looks like scuff marks up there,” Michael said, pointing up the cliff face as he handed the binoculars to Minoway.
“I don’t think they go to the top,” Minoway said. “I think they end up by that big branch.”
Michael spurred over to the large Ponderosa Pine. Dismounting, he examined the tree closely. He pointed out to Minowayuh and Di where its bark was skinned and a tiny branch had been broken as the Giant descended.
“He took time to lay a false trail?” Di asked. “Impressive.”
Michael scanned back over the valley floor.
“It wouldn’t have taken him twenty minutes to reach this spot, yet his first thought wasn’t of immediate escape, but of deception. That took a lot of mental discipline. He definitely isn’t the type to panic under pressure.”
“No,” Di added. “He’s just big, strong, smart, quick, woods-wise and deadly. I’m only guessing here, but perhaps that’s why he has a tendency toward overconfidence.”
“You gonna start sending him fan mail?” Michael asked as he started climbing the cliff. Di simply smiled, refusing the bait.
At a tiny ledge just above a good-sized tree branch, Michael stopped and looked around. He imagined himself running from enemies at night, knowing he’d be found if he didn’t get out of the canyon and away before dawn. He realized that by the time the Giant stood where he was standing now the moon had risen, making it easier for him to see where he was going, but also making it easier for his enemies to see him.
Visualizing the scene helped Michael understand why the Giant stopped his ascent the night before and it wasn’t just to lay a false trail.
“Hey, he’s not superhuman. He had a good reason for stopping here,” Michael said.
Minoway slapped his head. “The moon was up! He’d have stood out against these limestone cliffs like a black bug in a bowl of rice.”
Michael nodded as his gaze drifted along the canyon wall. No more than a quar
ter mile away there was a crack that ran from the bottom to the top of the rock wall; and it would have been in the shadows last night.
They hurried over to the crack and Michael could tell from Minoway’s expression he was kicking himself for overlooking such an obvious escape route on their first circuit of the valley. It wasn’t till he got right up to it that Michael recalled why he hadn’t thought it possible for anybody to climb out of the valley this way. Quite simply, he had been thinking of how he would climb out and he knew that without a rope and some gear he couldn’t free-climb that crack. In the first place, it was too wide at the top for him to chimney-walk all the way up and in the second place the last ten feet of rock looked as smooth as a baby’s butt, with no hand or footholds. But the Giant was more than a foot taller than Michael. Taller even than Di. What’s more, the man’s legs were long in proportion to his body.
Michael turned to Di and asked, “Could you climb that?”
She looked back at him over her shoulder with raised eyebrows and said, “Depends on what was after me.”
Lady Di and Michael shared a dislike of heights.
“Seriously,” she continued, “if you mean, could I chimney up that crack all the way to the top, then yes, I believe I could.”
“That’s what I thought,” Michael replied.
He pulled out his field glasses and focused them on the smooth part of the rock near the top. Under their magnification the scuff marks from the Giant’s boots stood out plain as day.
“We’re on to him,” Michael said.
It took them almost three hours to circle their horses out of the valley and up onto the canyon rim where the crack topped out. That put them into mid-afternoon and clouds were building toward daily showers, part of summer in the mountains. Michael doubted it would rain hard enough to wash out all sign of the Giant’s passage, but since it might, Minowayuh and he (Di not being much of a tracker) got busy scouting for the man’s trail.
The Dying Time (Book 2): After The Dying Time Page 27
