Both knew coming into the snow and deep timber after Raines had been a terrible mistake. But they couldn’t back out now. That would cause them the loss of respect from their men. The outlaws couldn’t afford that. They had to finish this thing once and for all.
Forty men, Campo was thinking. We lost eight teams of men and Raines didn’t have to fire one lousy shot. And the desertions. Jesus. Guys were just quitting them left and right.
He looked around him at the cold camp. Maybe, maybe if they were lucky, there was a hundred and twenty, maybe thirty guys left. But he knew these were the hardcore men. Murderers and rapists and nut cases. Most didn’t have enough sense to quit.
This would be the base camp for a week, maybe longer. They would search every square inch of these woods, chart it on a map, and then, if they didn’t turn up Raines, move on. Jake knew they had plenty of food and sleeping bags and ammo. It was just a matter of finding Raines.
They would start in the morning.
Ben walked some twenty miles from the cabin before he began headhunting. It was going to snow again that night, so he wasn’t worried about tracks.
He drew close to the smoke that made up the western edge of the outlaws’ perimeter and squatted down, uncasing his binoculars. Very carefully and slowly, he scanned the area that lay before him. He picked up the movements of a few men. He focused his binoculars and brought the men in closer. They were walking with their heads down, searching the snow for sign.
Ben eased back into the deep timber, watching the men walk through the small valley. He was careful to shield his field glasses so the sun would not bounce off the lenses, giving away his position. He watched them draw closer, than fan out, several hundred yards between each man.
He waited by the edge of the forest. He was not aware of it, but he was smiling.
The man working the most eastern area drew closer. He was talking to himself. Obviously, he was not happy with his job.
“Son of a bitch,” the man muttered, his voice carrying to Ben. “I’m gonna enjoy watchin’ Jake nail that bastard to a cross. I hope it takes him days to die. Jesus! it’s cold out here.”
So Jake has plans to crucify me, Ben thought. I don’t think I’d like that very much. I’ll just see if I can’t put a crimp in Big Jake’s plans.
The outlaw came to the woods’ edge and stood for a moment. The deep timber gave him some relief from the cold winds singing around the valley.
“I sure would like to take a piss,” the outlaw muttered. “But I’m afraid my pecker would freeze and fall off.”
Then he cussed Ben Raines loud and long.
Ben hoped he enjoyed cursing him, for it was to be the last sound he would ever hear.
Ben was silent and deadly with his knife, slicing the man’s throat with the heavy, razor-sharp blade. He dragged the man into the timber and dropped him in the snow, his warm, pumping blood staining the whiteness scarlet.
“Halp!” Ben hollered, disguising his voice. “Halp! I’m stuck, boys, Halp!”
“Leroy, you stupid ox!” a man’s call drifted over the valley. “What the shit is the matter with you now?”’
“Caught my foot in a wedge!” Ben hollered. “Come help me.”
“All right, all right! Just don’t pee on yourself. We’re a-comin”dis”
Ben heard the man say, “You two keep on a-lookin’. Simmons, you and Bobby come with me. Let’s see what that dumbass’s got hisself into now.”
The three outlaws approached Ben’s position, walking clumsily through the snow.
“Leroy, you spastic bastard!” the point man said. “Sing out. Where is you?”
“Ooohhh!” Ben groaned.
“You hurt bad, Leroy?”
“Ooohhh!”
“Hang on, boy, we’s comin’.”
The point man was the first to step into the dimly lit timber, and for a few seconds, he was unable to see. Ben took him out silently, plunging his knife into the man’s chest, feeling the blade grind and grit through and past bone, driving into the man’s heart.
Standing up, Ben reversed the dead man’s sawed-off shotgun and used it for a club. He smashed the butt into one man’s face, hearing bones crunch and splinter under the impact. Before the third man could unsling his weapon, Ben shattered the man’s skull with the butt of the shotgun, hitting him so hard the butt broke off.
Ben dropped the broken shotgun, grabbed his .30-06, and uncapped the scope lenses. Quickly, he sighted an outlaw and pulled the trigger. Without bothering to see if he hit the man-Ben knew he didn’t miss, not at this distance-Ben had sighted the last man in and had downed him before the echoing report of the rifle had died away.
Ben slipped quietly back into the timber, heading for the next plume of smoke. He was not aware of it, but his smile was still locked in place, giving him a death’s-head look.
A look of hard-taken revenge.
Jake’s head jerked up at the sounds of the gunfire. A tiny bit more of confidence ebbed within the man. He somehow knew the shots had not come from any of his men. He somehow knew that Raines had struck again.
He sat on a log before the fire, waiting for the pot of coffee to boil. Not coffee, really. But a mixture of tea and coffee and chicory. Tasted like shit, but at least it was hot.
Seemed like it was taking forever for the crap to boil.
One of the warlord’s men came and squatted down by the fire, rubbing his gloved hands together. “Reckon one of our boys got Raines, Jake?”
“Could be.”
“Hope they didn’t kill him. I wanna see how much pain Raines can take. I hate that son of a bitch.”
“Why?” Jake heard himself ask. The one-word question surprised him, leaping from his mouth. He really didn’t know why he’d asked it. Or, he mentally corrected that, didn’t want to admit why he asked it.
“Huh?” the outlaw asked, looking at Campo.
“Why do you hate Raines?”
“Wai, shit, Jake! “Cause the man is … the guy is … all he is is … Shit! I don’t know. I jist do, that’s all.”
“Don’t you, Jake?” another outlaw asked quietly.
Without taking his eyes from the just-bubbling liquid in the battered old pot, Jake said, “No. I don’t hate him. I just wish to shit all this crap was over.”
“You wanna quit, Jake?” yet another man asked.
Jake shook his big shaggy head. “No. Can’t none of us quit, and you all know why. We got to see this thing through.”
Jake leaned forward, reaching for the pot. Ben squeezed the trigger. The slug that was meant for Jake Campo struck the man squatted next to Jake, the force of the impacting bullet slamming the man forward, into the fire. His fur-lined parka caught fire, and was quickly blazing. The odor of cooked human flesh filled the air.
The camp panicked.
Ben fired again, the slug striking an outlaw in the center of the back, pitching the man into the snow, face down. Another outlaw went down, the bullet entering the left side of his head and exiting out the right, blowing brains and fluid and bits of bone out with it.
Ben hurled a grenade into the camp, the shrapnel-filled little bomb exploding next to a pickup truck that was stuck in the heavy snow. The gas tank of the truck blew, sending flames billowing in the air, adding more confusion to an already chaotic situation. Men were running awkwardly in the snow, shouting and screaming in fear and panic, slamming into each other, knocking one another down, kicking and squalling in the snowy cold of the timber.
At the sound of the first shot, Jake had thrown himself to one side, scurrying like a big crab for cover. But as the situation worsened, Jake realized that there was no cover safe from the revengeful barking of the rifle and Raines.
Then, as quickly and savagely as it had begun, the firing stopped. Jake lay behind a log, listening for some sound, any sound, of Raines leaving.
Nothing.
The damned man moves like a ghost! Jake thought.
And that thought did nothing for J
ake’s mental state.
Chapter 35
Ben slipped through the green and white forest like an armed avenging ghost. He was paralleling the second team of outlaws that morning, waiting for one of them to get careless.
Finally one did.
He called out, “I’m gonna step in them woods yonder and take me a piss. I’ll catch up with ya’ll directly.”
“Don’t let it freeze off!” an outlaw called.
“Yeah,” another yelled. “You ain’t got enough dick now to do no woman no good.”
He stepped into the timber and Ben swung the heavy knife. The cold metal suddenly turned hot with gushing blood, the big blade cutting through bone, muscle, and tendons. The head plopped to the snow, the eyes wide open and staring in shock and disbelief. The headless torso flopped and kicked on the snow, blood squirting from the severed neck.
Ben didn’t want to try the same ruse twice in the same day. He lay behind a log, using the fallen timber for a rifle support. He sighted in the man who was furthest away, and squeezed the trigger. The force of the slug knocked the man off his feet, the slug catching him squarely in the center of the chest. Ben shifted the rifle and shot another in the stomach. He managed to drop one more before the remaining two hit the snow and burrowed in like frightened rats.
Ben rolled away from the log, rolling backward, deeper into the timber, and began easing his way out of that area.
He was still smiling.
It began snowing heavily long before Ben reached the warmth of the cabin. The snow would hide his tracks, but he didn’t believe Jake or Texas Red or any of the outlaws could be stupid enough to venture out in this weather.
The sky had changed from a brilliant blue to a dirty gray, and Ben suspected a blizzard was building. If that was the case, more of the outlaws would be leaving, pulling out, deserting the warlords.
And some of them would probably freeze to death.
Ben was still smiling as he stepped up on the porch.
Jake’s fear had left him, as it had left Texas Red and many of the outlaws. The numbing cold had chased the fear away, replacing it with pure raw savagery. A dozen outlaws had given up the chase, quietly packing their gear and pulling out, with Jake and Texas Red hurling obscenities and threats at them as they left.
The outlaws that remained had finally wised up, building lean-to’s and crude shelters against the freezing winds and blowing snow. To a man, they all realized they had to kill Ben Raines and the woman, for those men who had left would surely spread the word, and the outlaws would be the subjects of much ridicule and scorn if they gave up the chase now.
No, Ben and Rani had to die. The outlaws had no choice in the matter now. None at all. It was fish-or-cut-bait time. And that was that.
The blizzard raged and howled and roared down from Canada with all the fury it could muster. The weather prevented the outlaws from moving against Ben, and kept Ben at home.
But while Ben and Rani were warm and dry and well-fed-indeed, both of them picking up a few pounds from no activity and hearty eating-the outlaws suffered during the extreme weather, many of them catching colds, which turned into pneumonia. Frostbite became infected, and turned gangrenous. Dispositions turned surly and fights broke out, then fistfights turned to gunplay.
Just as Jake was ready to pack it in and call it quits, and to hell with what other warlords and outlaws might think, the weather broke.
Jake awakened one morning to the sounds of water dripping. He lay in his blankets and tried to figure out what in the hell was going on.
Then he realized he was actually warm. Warm? How could that be?
He stepped out of his crudely built one-room shack and looked around him in amazement.
The sun was shining brightly and the temperature,
even this early in the morning, was in the upper forties, at least.
“All right!” he said. “All right!” he shouted.
Men began pouring out of lean-tos and shacks and tents, to stand and stare in confusion at the sudden change of weather.
“OK, boys!” Jake shouted. “Let’s go get Ben Raines and the broad.”
Ben kicked out of his blankets and walked to the window of the shack, throwing open the shutters. The chinooks were blowing. Andwiththe unusually warm winds, would come the outlaws. In full force.
“My God, Ben,” Rani said. “It’s the middle of winter and it feels like spring.”
“Chinooks,” Ben said. “They won’t last. But it might last three or four days-maybe longer. But the outlaws are going to be crawling all over the damned place. It’s time for me to get moving. I’ve got to rig more traps around the place. And I’ve got to do it now. While I’m getting dressed, honey, would you get me those bear traps from back in the storage area, please?”’
Making several trips, Rani carried out several dozen of the heavy, cruel-jawed, long-outlawed bear traps. The jaws were capable of crushing a man’s leg if he was unfortunate enough to step into one, and Ben was planning on breaking a lot of legs with the traps.
Ben was gone within the hour, loaded down with equipment. He was back in two hours, gathering up the last of the traps and packing enough emergency rations to last several days.
He kissed Rani and said, “They can’t burn you out of this place. And it would take a battering ram to knock down that door. You know how to use that M-60 machine gun. I’ll try to have this thing over and done with in two days. Three max. You be careful and don’t go outside for any reason. OK?”
“You come back to me, old man, OK?”
“Yes, Miss Jordan.”
“Ms.”
“Right!” Ben grinned. He was gone into the timber.
Rani locked and barred the heavy door. She sat down to wait.
Ben lay on a ridge and watched the outlaws approach. The outlaws were in a good mood, the break in the weather having buoyed their spirits, filling them with a false confidence.
And he noticed their ranks had been thinned considerably. But still they were in a good mood, many of them laughing and speaking very profanely as to what they were going to do to Rani when they caught her.
Ben put an end to the party spirit by shooting an outlaw in the stomach with his M-16. That seemed to take all the joy from their moment.
“On the ridge!” an outlaw shouted. “I seen the bastard. Get him, boys!”
Ben had moved back into the timber before the sound of his shot had died away. He deliberately held his fire, wanted the man to step into the timber. He had some nasty surprises waiting for them.
The outlaw in the lead lumbered into the timber, not watching for sign. He tripped the first of many swing traps, the eighteen-inch sharpened stake driving into his stomach. He hung suspended on the stake, howling out his agony, screaming for someone to please help him.
Ben let him howl. It was good for his morale and very demoralizing for the outlaw’s buddies.
The outlaws continued their headlong rush into the timber, all caution tossed to the wind, with one central thought: Get Ben Raines!
Ben heard the sickening sounds of the bear trap spring, the man’s leg breaking and crushing under the impact of the heavy jaws. The outlaw fell forward, screamed once, and then passed out from the intense pain.
Another outlaw failed to see the wire strung ankle-high in the timber. The wire tripped him, throwing him face forward into the snow, the sharpened stake imbedded in the hard ground driving all the way through the man’s chest, the sharpened end tearing out the man’s back.
Ben raised his M-16 and dropped three more outlaws before the men got it through their heads that the chase was not working out to their advantage.
“Fall back!” the command was shouted. “Jesus Christ-get out of these fuckin’ woods. The man’s a damned army all by hisself.”
Ben was moving before the words left the man’s mouth, moving deeper into the woods and circling, angling toward the edge of the clearing to the outlaw’s southern position.
A burly
, unshaven, smelly outlaw was running wildly, his mouth open, gasping for air in the cold thinness. Another thug who had had quite enough of one Ben Raines. Ben decided to give him one final taste of combat, for this man was one Ben recognized as having said some perfectly disgusting things about what he wanted to do to Rani.
Ben shot him in the knees, pitching the man howling to the snowy, muddy ground.
Ben pulled back into the timber, leaving the man yowling for help.
Ben waited for that help to arrive.
“Garfield!” the shout came drifting to Ben. “Luther Garfield! Where are you, man?”
“Here!” Luther yelled, his voice pain-filled. “The bastard shot me in the knees. Oh, Jesus, man. It hurts.”
The outlaw’s buddy came running, staying close to the timber’s edge.
Ben slipped forward, his big Bowie knife in his hand. “Here, asshole,” Ben called, then moved to one side.
The man slid to a halt, his shotgun raised, the muzzle pointing toward where Ben had been. “Come out and fight like a man, you sneaky son of a bitch!” the outlaw said, panting and gasping for breath.
Ben came up behind the man and drove the big blade into the man’s skull, the blade penetrating halfway through the man’s brain.
Ben see-sawed the blade out and ducked back into the timber. He looked out into the small clearing. Those outlaws remaining had given up the fight and were running across the clearing, heading out.
The taste for battle had left this bunch. They wanted no more of Ben Raines.
Ben squatted in the mud and snow. His battle-tested and proven grin was still firmly locked in place.
Chapter 36
“Take your campaign and shove it up your ass, Jake!” the big outlaw’s second-in-command told him bluntly. “I’ve had it!”
“All right,” Jake said calmly. “Carry your asses on out of here, then.”
More than half of Jake Campo’s men-those that were left-walked to their vehicles and pulled out.
“We’re leavin’, Red,” Texas Red’s second-in-command told him. “Right now.”
Alone in the Ashes ta-5 Page 22
