by Neil Hunter
Brand turned away from the window, searching for something to use as a lever.
From the front of the building he heard a muffled crash, followed by the unmistakable boom of a shotgun.
Raven!
It meant their time had just run out.
Brand didn’t hesitate. He turned back to the window and drove his shoulder into the dusty glass. It shattered, the sound drowned by the continuing gunfire. Sweeping away the remaining glass and splintered wood from the surround Brand swung one leg over the sill and arched his body through. He dropped to the ground beyond. Sarah followed him without hesitation, Brand grabbing her as she slid through.
“Stay close,” he told her. “Just follow me when I move.”
He ran along the rear of the building, pausing when he reached the extreme corner. Easing around the corner Brand made his way to the front of the building. Yards away was the corral. That meant horses, and if their luck was holding, maybe a rifle in a saddle sheath. Before he could move in the direction of the corral the building’s front door swung open, spilling yellow light across the porch. A figure stepped out through the door, a shotgun held in one hand and a raised Colt in the other.
“Raven?” Sarah whispered.
Brand was unable to see the man’s face. But he still knew he was watching Raven. He could tell by the way the figure moved. Held himself.
“That’s him. Going to be hard reaching the horses while he’s standing there.”
“So what do we do? Wait for him to find us?”
“No.” Brand took her hand and led her back the way they had come.
He knew that Raven would soon be looking for them. The killer would have found the empty room by now. He would have seen the discarded ropes and the smashed window. Having disposed of Calvado and the others Raven would come after Brand and Sarah. The only option was to put some distance between them. The hired assassin could track as good as any Apache. He had the instinct that would allow him to follow a man across solid rock and still find him. With that in mind Brand didn’t worry about leaving a trail. He concentrated on moving hard and fast.
The ground rose steeply at the rear of the building. There was a lot of loose debris covering the slopes. It was mainly composed of waste from when the mine workings were operating. It made the going difficult, the shale underfoot slid down the slope as they climbed, making an audible hissing noise. Brand kept on moving, pulling Sarah along behind. The slope, open and slippery was their only immediate way out of the area.
Brand paused occasionally, his eyes searching the moonlit area below them. He hadn’t spotted Raven in pursuit yet, but that didn’t mean the man wasn’t on their trail. Raven would follow, keeping out of sight until he decided the time was right to strike.
By the time they reached the top of the slope they had to stop. They were damp with sweat, bodies aching from the labored climb, and they needed to regain their breath.
Brand, turning to give Sarah a hand, happened to glance along the slope. He spotted a dark figure sitting astride a motionless horse. Moonlight glinted on a raised rifle barrel. Brand yanked Sarah off her feet, pushing her to the ground, dropping himself. A moment later the flat crack of a rifle shot split the night air. The bullet whacked the earth inches away from them.
Sarah was about to protest at his harsh treatment. She changed her mind when the bullet struck, allowing Brand to pull her away from the crest of the slope. She ignored the rough earth snagging at her clothing and skinning her hands.
As they moved Brand was searching the way ahead. They needed cover. Once Raven pushed his horse over the crest of the slope he would close on them quickly, and he wouldn’t hesitate to kill once he had them in range. The thought occurred to Brand — would Raven kill Sarah? If Brand had judged right and Raven was working for Debenham, surely the man wouldn’t include his own daughter in his scheme. Maybe Debenham hadn’t. Raven, on the other hand, might view things differently. The hired killer had an obsession about leaving witnesses behind. Going on that theory put Sarah in as much danger as himself. Until he could be certain one way or the other, the best option was to consider the worst.
Ahead was a shadowed stand of timber. Brand veered towards it, Sarah stumbling behind him, still gripping his hand.
The rifle fired out of the darkness. Sarah gave a startled cry, falling, pulling free from his grip. He turned to help her, grabbing for her falling body. Brand hauled her upright, pulling her close. His hand touched warm blood coming from her left shoulder. She stirred, moaning in a low voice. Over her shoulder Brand could see Raven sitting his horse on a high point, outlined by the moonlight. He felt useless. Helpless without his own weapons. At least with a gun in his hand he could have fought back.
Raven stayed where he was. Watching and waiting.
You bastard. Brand swore silently but forcibly. He felt Sarah move against him. He picked her up in his arms, glancing again in Raven’s direction. The man still hadn’t moved. He held himself upright in his saddle, the long outline of his rifle canted against one hip. He was waiting for Brand to move off again. He wanted Brand to run so he could take up the chase.
The trees were only yards away. Brand reckoned they might have a chance if only he could get in among them. He began to move. Slowly, backing away from Raven. He wanted to keep the man in sight until the last possible moment. The way Raven sat his horse looked for all the world like a man unprepared for swift action. Brand knew better. The killer could have his rifle up and firing in moments.
Aware that he had only seconds left before Raven moved Brand changed his tactics. He about-faced without warning and dug in his heels, pushing for the welcoming darkness of the close-grown trees. It felt as if he was wading through waist-high water. Even though he was pushing with every ounce of strength he didn’t feel as though he was actually getting anywhere. With each heartbeat he expected to hear the crash of a shot and feel the burning impact of a bullet.
His shoulder brushed rough bark. He felt the trees close around him.
And Raven’s rifle began firing. Shot after shot that followed him into the timber. Brand heard the bullets slamming into thick trunks, sending bark flying in all directions as they impacted against the trunks.
He pushed blindly ahead, heedless of the darkness that was only broken by the odd shaft of moonlight filtering down through the canopy of interwoven branches overhead. More than once he slammed into the hard trunk of some unseen tree, and it wasn’t long before his body ached and his flesh was scraped and raw. The way ahead was like an endless, dark tunnel. All he could do was stumble through the trees, hoping that eventually he would reach some safe place.
He only stopped once. Slumping to the ground. He was desperate for air, sucking it into his burning lungs. His shirt, soaked with sweat, clung to his back, cold and uncomfortable.
Hugging Sarah to him, feeling her breath on his face, he peered into the gloom, his ears straining to pick up any sound that hinted at pursuit. There wasn’t a thing. Not even a gentle breeze to stir the branches of the trees. It suggested he and Sarah were alone. Brand knew otherwise. Raven was around somewhere. Still playing his game of cat and mouse.
Anger rose without warning, blotting out all Brand’s feelings. He wasn’t going to let Raven beat him. It wasn’t over yet. Brand pushed to his feet. He sensed Sarah moving in his arms and wondered how badly she was hurt. He couldn’t afford the time to find out. His priority now was to get them both far away from Raven.
He pushed on through the trees, going forward, unaware of how much time passed. It might have been minutes. Or hours. He lost his grip on that. His only thought was to keep moving, away from Raven and that damned gun.
It went on like that until he stepped forward into a dark void. His right foot came down, hitting only empty air, and before he could react he and Sarah were pitched forward into empty space. Even the moonlight vanished. It was pitch black. Brand tried to keep hold of Sarah but she slipped from his arms, giving a final scared cry . . . and th
en he hit solid earth. The impact stunned him. Brand felt himself cart wheeling over and over. He threw out his hands, scrabbling at the ground but he failed to get a grip on anything. He twisted over, his head striking against something hard. He turned again, his face crashing into the ground and he tasted blood . . . and then nothing . . .
... it was Sarah who woke him by splashing cold water in his face.
The shock made him open his eyes. He was lying on his back. Far overhead, through greenery, he could see the graying sky. He turned his aching head and saw Sarah watching him. Her beautiful face was bruised and scratched, but she was still the best thing he’d seen since opening his eyes.
“How long have I been out?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. I only came to a while ago.”
“Have you heard anything?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. Do you think he’s gone? Raven?”
Brand climbed to his feet. He was stiff and bloody, but he was still alive. He took stock of their surroundings. A deep, overgrown ravine that may have been the channel of some dried up watercourse. Now it was heavy with grass and brush, with a small spring issuing from some underground source. Brand squatted on his heels and splashed more of the cooling water on his face. He took a drink. The water was fresh and sweet.
“Do you think he’s missed us?” Sarah asked.
“Could be. Easy to overlook this place in the dark. But he could still be around. I don’t aim to go looking for him without a gun in my hand.”
“What about the mine? There must be weapons there.”
Brand stood up. “He’d figure that one out himself. No way we can risk going back.”
“So what do we do? Keep on running?”
“Yes. All the way back to Miles City.”
“Can we make it?”
“Can’t afford not to, Sarah.” He motioned her to him. “Let me take a look at that shoulder.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Dam fool talk,” Brand grumbled. “You were shot. Now sit down and don’t argue.”
He unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it from her shoulder. The bullet had sliced a long, shallow gash in her flesh. The bleeding had stopped, congealing over the wound. Brand saw no point in disturbing it.
“Soon as we get back I want you to see a doctor. Get that cleaned and dressed.”
“Yes, sir,” Sarah said mockingly. “Am I allowed to get dressed again? Or do you prefer me the way I am?”
“Right now you don’t want me to answer that,” Brand said with a smile.
Sarah fastened her blouse.
Brand led the way along the riverbed. If it continued along its southerly route they would be able to stay under cover for a good distance. He reckoned they still had a few hours’ walk ahead of them.
Sarah fell in step behind him. As the journey progressed Brand became aware of her reluctance to talk. He reasoned that she probably had a lot on her mind. He had given her plenty to think about. It must have come as a blow to be told Brand believed her own father was behind the fraud and the murders that had recently taken place.
The sky began to lighten, shadows falling away around them. They were forced to alter their pace now. Daylight meant they were going to lose much of their cover. The heavy undergrowth wouldn’t conceal them as well once darkness faded. If Raven chanced on the ravine he would spot them easily.
Brand knew that Raven wouldn’t give up. He might back off while he worked out his next move. But he wouldn’t up and quit. That wasn’t Raven’s way. He followed his quarry until he could make his kill. In that way he was akin to Jason Brand. They were both professionals in their respective trades. Men who were totally dedicated and always followed through to the conclusion of whatever they might have accepted.
The day brightened around them. The sky turned blue, with scraps of white cloud scudding across it. The sun began to warm the land, catching them as they emerged from thick brush, and Brand noticed that the high sides of the ravine were shallowing out. He called a halt, motioning Sarah into cover. Within the next couple of hundred yards the ravine leveled out completely. Once beyond that spot they would be on open ground, with only the natural terrain to conceal them. It wasn’t going to make things easier — but there wasn’t anything in the rules that said his job had to be easy.
Out of that thought McCord’s image sprang to mind. Brand wished he had the man with him now. He was more than ready to fire a few questions at McCord. Brand’s doubts about the assignment were becoming stronger, and he was convinced that McCord hadn’t given him the full story back in Washington.
That would have to wait. Out here nothing mattered except staying alive. Brand turned back to where Sarah crouched in the brush. Her head was down. Arms loose at her sides. He felt a moment of pity for her. She was having it roughs mentally as well as physically. She was trying not to show it, but he felt certain her mind would be in a whirl over his revelations concerning her father. If Lord Richard Debenham was involved a lot of people were about to have their illusions shattered.
“You want to rest up a while?”
Sarah stared up at him. There were dark rings under her eyes. She asked: “Will Raven let us rest if he finds us?”
“Hell, no.”
“Then we go on,” she told him. She rose to her full height and walked on by him.
Brand followed, smiling thinly. She was, he decided, one tough lady. And he meant lady.
They covered ground slowly now. Brand allowed caution to rule him. With a man like Raven on their trail it paid to observe every rule for survival.
With that in mind he scouted ahead and around them constantly, checking for places that might conceal a man with a ready rifle.
In this tedious pattern they made the slow trek back to Miles City.
It was late morning when the town came in sight. Pale wreaths of smoke rose from chimneys. Brand could see movement in the streets. He decided to come in at the rear of the hotel. the first thing he wanted to do was to get to his room and arm himself. After that . . . Brand was undecided, but he knew he would have his plan of action by the time he reached town.
He realized that Sarah had slumped to the ground. She made no attempt to move when he spoke to her. He bent over and hauled her to her feet. Her head swayed limply and he was forced to support her. Without warning her eyes opened wide and she stared at him.
“Was I asleep?”
“Something like that.” he said. “It’s not far now, Sarah.”
Her interest was minimal. The smile that curled her bruised lips was humorless. “How nice,” she muttered dryly.
Swinging in a wide circle Brand brought them to the rear of the Maqueen House. He used the very same rear stairs he’d used the day he had chased after Raven. The day Cody Ballard had been shot. It seemed an eternity away now. They finally reached the top of the stairs and entered the hotel unseen. Brand took Sarah directly to her room. She took one look at her bed and collapsed across it.
“My God, Jason, I’ll sleep for a week.” She stared at him for a moment. “What are you going to do?”
“Clean up. Find a gun, and do some thinking.”
“In that order?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Leaving her Brand made his way along the passage to his own room. The last time he’d entered Ryker and his partner, Jake, had been waiting for him. That was one of the problems with this assignment — too much happening in too short a time.
He shoved open his door and went in.
And stopped dead in his tracks.
He found his voice after a pause.
“I should have expected you to show up, you son of a bitch,” he said forcibly. “I figure you owe me an explanation. And it had better be a damn good one.”
Turning from the window, a bleak smile on his face, Frank McCord said: “Hello, Jason. You got your suit dirty.”
Chapter Eleven
“MCCORD, this had better be good.”
McCord nodded. “So sit
down and I’ll tell you the way it is.”
The last thing Brand wanted to do was sit down. He flung off his dirty jacket, stripped off his soiled and bloody shirt. Filling the wash basin he started to clean up.”
“I don’t like being set up, McCord!”
There wasn’t a trace of emotion in McCord’s voice. “The situation called for it.”
Brand snatched up a towel. “The hell with your damn situation. You planted me here just start the ball rolling. You knew my cover wasn’t worth a damn. Debenham must have seen through me before we left Washington.” He spun round suddenly, fixing his gaze on McCord. “What about Raven? You knew he was working for Debenham?” “I knew. What I didn’t know was who Debenham’s partners were. And you’re the only one who knows what Raven looks like.” McCord leaned forward. “Look at it from my side of the desk, Jason. You were the logical choice. You can identify Raven. Your appearance on the scene was bound to arouse interest from Debenham’s ex-partners.” “Ex?”
“Our original information told us that Debenham and his partners had a falling-out. It appears that his Lordship had been getting far too greedy. Not content with defrauding the companies he fronted, he had started to do the same with his partners. He wanted a bigger slice of the pie. In fact he wanted the whole damn pie for himself.” “Why was he cheating everyone?” “Apparently our member of the British nobility is so deep in debt he’ll never get out.”
“I thought he was supposed to be a one-man empire.”
“So did a lot of other people. This particular idol has feet of clay. His failed business ventures are starting to show up now. Reports are coming in from Canada, Australia, South America. Debenham’s world is shrinking fast. He has nowhere to go.”
“He must be have been desperate to hire Raven.” Brand picked up a clean shirt. “I’ll give him one thing. He puts on a damn good act.”
