by Ronald Kelly
But the others – Elijah Cox and Avery Gimble – they were ones to be reckoned with. Timber had encountered their kind during the War Between the States; Missouri farmboys who had chosen to follow violent leaders such as Quantrill and Bloody Bill Anderson. They were guerilla fighters, men proficient with horses and guns. The wolfer found himself thinking of Cox’s sawed-off shotgun and his brace of .44 Dragoons. Such weapons were deadly in the hands of a man who could use them and Timber was sure the bounty hunter could, and would, use them to the best of his ability if they crossed their path during the long journey down to Greybull.
Chapter Twenty-One
The sound of gunfire echoed over the canyon wall, sending Timber Gray scrambling for his rifle and up a stony ridge lined with snow and dead brush.
That morning, before dawn, he had taken his horse and the two mules out of Wolf Gorge, packing Luke Bell’s cow saddle along as an afterthought. He went back down the pass a few hundred yards to a fork in the trail. Taking the route to his right, Timber rode further until the pass petered out into little more than a goat trail. Any other man would have turned back right then and there. But the wolfer, like a few others, knew where the pathway actually led. Soon it widened once again and flared into a broad trail bordered by high canyons and steep snow-covered slopes. He was in the hidden passageway that led from the rear of the gorge cave, all the way down Cloud Peak to the BighornValley below.
Timber had picketed the animals near the narrow cave exit, transferring the wolf hides to the supply mule and saddling up the other for Luke. He was tightening the cinch under the mule’s belly, when the crack of rifle reports ricocheted out of the gorge and caught his attention.
Cocking the Winchester as he made his way to the top of the canyon wall, he crouched low and moved carefully to the lip. Concealed behind the flat face of a boulder, Timber peered down into the gorge at the cause of the ruckus. Elijah Cox and his fellow bountymen had somehow found their way into the hidden canyon. How their discovery had come about was unimportant. All that mattered now was that they were there in the flesh and armed to the teeth.
“Might as well come on outta that hole, Bell,” yelled the band’s leader.
“You stay in there much longer and you’ll die anyhow, if not from our bullets, then from cold and starvation. Might as well come on out in the open and face the music.” For emphasis, Elijah unholstered one of his .44 Dragoons and unleashed a barrage of thunderous shots.
The sudden spurts of gunsmoke singled out the bounty hunter’s position at the edge of the piney woods. The other four were scattered nearby, hiding in the shelter of evergreens and outcroppings of rock. Timber could hear the men’s horses somewhere on the far side of the grove. He knew if he could get them in sight, he just might be able to buy him and Luke some time. Not.much, but perhaps enough to get a head start down the hidden pass and off the mountain before nightfall.
Timber heard the rolling report of the big .50 Sharps explode from the mouth of the cave below him and was glad that he decided to leave it with the cowhand for safekeeping. Luke’s aim was much better than he would have expected, for it sent splinters flying from a tree only inches from where Cox was hiding.
“I’m innocent, I tell you!” growled Luke from back inside the cave. “So why don’t you just let me be?”
“Ain’t nothing personal, darkie,” chuckled Avery Gimble from the center of the grove. “Our line of work calls for chasing down yellow-bellied varmints like yourself, innocent or guilty. Whether you come back to Colorado riding in a saddle or slung over one, don’t make no never mind to us.”
The bounty hunters waited for a reply, but received nothing but silence. “Well, what about it, Bell?” snarled Cox, his snaggletoothed leer as ugly as sin. “Ain’t you got an answer for us?”
“Yeah,” said the Negro, sending another .50 slug booming into the thicket of pines. “Ya’ll can go straight to hell!”
Elijah Cox unsheathed his other pistol. “Lay it on him hard and heavy, boys,” he said with a grin. “This one ain’t gonna come easy.”
The five fired as one, sending a volley of shots at the entrance of the cave. Rifle and pistol slugs and the spreading swarm of buckshot rained toward the entrance. Some projectiles struck the canyon wall, sending slivers of rock and shale into the crisp morning air.
While the Cox gang was busy whooping it up and wasting ammunition, Timber Gray was making his way along the canyon rim with the patience of a seasoned hunter. His attention was not centered on the men in the grove, but the five horses tethered beyond, near the freshwater pool. As he edged along the northern wall of Wolf Gorge, Timber spotted the animals and the trees they were tied to. He reached the cover of a leaning boulder. Taking careful aim from a kneeling position, he found his mark and fired. The first slug from the Winchester missed, but the following shots did the trick. The rawhide tethers parted cleanly under the hunter’s expert marksmanship. Soon, the five mounts were freed from their restraints. In a fit of panic, they galloped southward through the gorge and toward the opening.
“The horses!” yelled one of the Delaney brothers, immediately forgetting
Luke Bell and the reward he would bring. “Someone shot the horses loose!”
All gunfire ceased and Timber could see Cox and his mean leaping through the pine forest, hellbent for their horses. The thought of being stranded on Cloud Peak with no horses or provisions was a sobering one to the bountymen. Fortunately for the wolfer, it was precisely the reaction he had hoped for. As they followed their mounts out of Wolf Gorge and down the narrow pass beyond, Timber knew that he and Luke must make good use of the reprieve and get a move on. He climbed back down into the hidden passageway and found Luke standing there, leaning near the rear exit. He held the Sharps canted to one lean shoulder and favored his buckshot leg.
“Pretty fancy piece of shooting you did,” said Bell with a grin of admiration. “Takes a mighty steady aim and a good eye to snip a rawhide thong at that distance.”
Timber slid the repeater back into its boot. He swung into the saddle of his roan and motioned toward the other mount. “Hope you don’t mind riding that old mule there. Might be rough at first, but it’ll be a steady ride down.”
Luke pulled himself into the saddle, the once effortless action now hindered by his injured leg. “Timber, I’d ride a banty rooster down this confounded mountainside if it would get me away from the likes of Elijah Cox and his bunch.” He leaned forward and started to hand the big Sharps and its ammo belt back to the bearded hunter.
“Hang onto it,” Gray advised. “I’ve got me a feeling we might meet up with trouble. You may have need of it before we reach the bottom.”
Luke Bell didn’t question the man’s instincts. He merely inserted a fresh round into the Sharps, closed the breech, and followed the wolfer down the pass. Whether he was riding toward salvation or damnation, Luke had no idea. But with Timber Gray as a guide, he felt he at least had a fighting chance. If trouble was to cast its dark shadow on their path, Timber knew it would happen at Mountain Cross. The Cross was located on the western face of the Bighorns where the rocky canyons began to gradually give way to sloping foothills. It was a strange configuration of trails where two passes crossed each other’s path.
Three things set heavily on Timber’s mind, each one an obstacle that could prevent the two from making it to the valley safely. First, there was snow. It clung haphazardly to the four sloping points of the Cross. Like
BurialPass, a loud shout or a single gunshot could send snow sliding down in a crushing avalanche. There was even the chance that a slide had already occurred and they would ride into a blockade of snow and ice, cutting off their route of escape.
Secondly, there was Elijah Cox and his men. Shooting the horses loose had merely been a diversion. They would have caught up to their fleeing mounts by now, hot under the collar and itching to use their guns. The bounty hunters might have stumbled upon Wolf Gorge purely by accident, but then someone in the gan
g could be familiar with the Bighorns. They might possibly know of the hidden pass Timber and Luke now traveled and be riding down the adjoining trail to head them off. The Cross was not a place to face your enemies down, especially when there were five of them and only two of you.
The third – and most remote – danger that might confront them would be the wolves. Timber Gray knew the beasts far too well to exclude them from the picture. Wolves had an unnerving way of showing up in the most unlikely spots and, since Old Cripplefoot and his dwindling pack had yet to reach Wolf Gorge, Timber figured them to still be somewhere on the mountain. He could not afford to rule out the possibility of coming upon them in one of the many canyons that lead up the face of Cloud Peak.
They rode at an even, unhurried pace all morning. The floor of the pass was covered with hardened snow and, even though the horse and mules were surefooted and born of the mountain breed, they took it easy. There was the risk of a thrown shoe or a twisted ankle to keep in mind and, in the situation they were now in, such injuries would prove fatal, for both the animals and their riders.
Dark, boiling clouds had rolled in during the night. They covered the vast Wyoming sky and hid the rays of the winter sun. The clouds hung ominously with the threat of snow and Timber knew there would be a few inches of fresh powder on the peak before tomorrow morning. It was afternoon now and he had no opportunity to worry about the hardships that nature might bring. They were fast approaching Mountain Cross and, although Timber wanted to ignore the feeling, he sensed that they would meet up with disaster there.
After another hour of riding, they reined their horses to a halt. “Is that the Cross up ahead?” Luke asked him.
Timber nodded quietly. He looked over at Luke and wondered if the cowboy was going to make it. The long hours of riding had aggravated the gunshot wound, causing it to bleed again. Several times he had nearly toppled from the saddle in sheer exhaustion. “How are you holding up?” he asked the black man.
“Never mind me, Timber,” Luke told him flatly. “It’s the Cross we’d better concern ourselves with. Once we get past it, we’ll be home free.”
The hunter knew he was right. He turned his eyes suspiciously toward the junction of the two passes that flared into a small basin at the center. All in all, it looked too much like a tidy trap to Timber Gray. But there was no turning back now. All they could do was proceed and pray to God that his haunting suspicions were dead wrong.
“Keep close and be ready,” said Timber. He slid his rifle from the boot and laid it across his lap. “But don’t fire unless you have to. If I’m gonna be buried, I want it to be permanent and not just until spring thaw.”
Their rifles at the ready and their senses alert, the two moved forward down the pass toward the middle of Mountain Cross. They could only see clearly into the pass opposite them; the one that led westward to the valley and the town of Greybull. The other one, which headed from north to south, was obscured from view until a rider came directly upon them.
Timber urged his roan onward. His ears were primed for the least little sound, the faintest echo that could forewarn them of intruders ahead. A lonesome mountain breeze moaned mournfully against bare stone and snow, making the task even harder. Suddenly, his horse snorted nervously as it caught the familiar scent of other horses nearby. By the time Timber heard the quiet blowing of other animals, it was too late. They had already ridden into the junction of the Cross and stopped in its center.
The wolf hunter and the injured cowpoke glanced sharply to their left.
There, in the southern entrance of the adjacent pass, sat five overcoated riders. Elijah Cox grinned triumphantly on the center horse, while Avery Gimble, Jess Ramsey, and the Delaneys stood to either side.
“Well, look a here now,” said Cox. “If it ain’t our old friend, Timber Gray. Should’ve known it was you who shot our horses loose back in that gorge. Only a dead-eye shot could’ve pulled such a stunt.”
Timber began to lift his Winchester, intending to end it right then and there. But the bounty hunters had beaten him to the draw. Their guns were already leveled at the two riders. “You bring that rifle up another inch, Gray, and I’ll blow you clean outta that saddle,” said Elijah. The muzzles of his ten-gauge never wavered from the wolfer’s chest.
Luke Bell spoke up, hoping to appeal to the bountymen. “All right, so you caught us. It’s me you want, though, not Timber. Let him be and I’ll give myself up to you.”
Elijah scratched the bristles of his chin thoughtfully. “Naw, we can’t let ol’ Timber Gray get off that easy. He put down me and my chosen profession once and I ain’t one for forgetting.” The bounty hunter regarded the bearded man coldly. “You got any more smart-alec comments about me and the boys, you just have at it, wolfer. It’s likely to be the last words you utter.”
Timber stared at the ugly black pits of the shotgun’s double bores, then shifted his attention to Elijah’s golden grin and dangerous eyes. The hunter swallowed his intended words, for he knew if he spoke his mind, Cox would surely lose his temper and fire.
“Let me have the old man, Elijah,” the kid asked his boss eagerly. Jess Ramsey sneered venomously at the wolf hunter. “You told me I could if we ever crossed paths again.”
“I reckon I did at that,” agreed Elijah. “You’ve been itching to put lead to a body since we left Cripple Creek. Anyway, we got what we came for, so I guess you’re entitled to a little fun.”
“Much obliged,” said Jess. Timber watched as the kid smoothly drew his ivory-handled Colt from its studded holster. The cold light of the winter afternoon reflected on the silver gun, highlighting each cut and scroll of the fancy engraving. It would have almost been an object of beauty, if not for the deadliness of its contents.
“Are you really gonna take the chance of bringing all this snow and rock down on us?” Timber asked the boy, casting his eyes to the sloping walls of the Cross.
Jess snickered. “You really expect me to fall for that trick again? You must be stupid or mighty desperate, old man.”
Gray looked toward the group’s leader. Elijah Cox just shook his head. “I’m with the kid this time. Seems like a mighty feeble play for someone with a reputation like yours, Gray.”
The bearded hunter swept his eyes across the gang, raking each ugly face with his steely gaze. “Then you’re all just a bunch of natural-born fools.”
Elijah’s silly grin faded and he spat forcefully into the snow. “Shoot him, Jess, before I shoot him myself.”
Ramsey cocked the hammer of his .45 and centered the sights on Timber’s belly, the spot that would bring the most agony before death. The wolf hunter thought about bringing his own gun up, but knew Jess would have him plugged three times before he could even unleash one round from the Winchester. He glanced at Luke Bell almost apologetically, then braced himself for the shock of lead tearing through his innards.
But Jess never found the chance to pull the trigger. Timber Gray watched as the kid’s expression changed from pure hatefulness to a sudden bewilderment and, yes, even fear. The wolfer was puzzled at first, then realized that the kid’s attention was no longer focused on him. Ramsey’s eyes stared past the hunter, as did the eyes of the other bountymen.
“Good God Almighty!’ exclaimed Luke Bell somewhere behind him.
Timber took the chance of ignoring the boy’s gun and turned toward their point of interest.
There, in the pass directly opposite of the one Cox and his men occupied, came Old Cripplefoot and five large timber wolves. They gave their enemy no time to think. Abruptly, they lunged through the center of the crossed passes and were upon the horses before anyone had a chance to react. Timber was surprised when the wolves ran past him and Luke, directing their furious attack solely on Cox and his gang. However, the shock was not potent enough to keep Gray from taking advantage of the sudden turn of events.
“Quick… down the pass!” he yelled to Luke. Both men spurred their mounts forward, trying to put as much distance
between them and the others before the inevitable happened.
And it did, a moment later. As the wolves leaped and snarled, and the bounty hunters’ horses bucked wildly, trying to avoid flashing fangs, Cox and his boys emerged from the confusion, brandishing their guns. That was their mistake. A barrage of misplaced gunfire echoed throughout the adjoining passes, sending a tremor through the very heart of Mountain Cross. The crack and boom was suddenly overshadowed by a much more thunderous and frightening roar. It was the deafening sound of snow and rock sliding off the faces of the slopes, into the veins of the crossed trails.
Timber Gray glanced back only once before urging his slate gray roan faster down the pass toward the foothills. All he could see was a massive torrent of snow and ice sliding downward, filling the spot where they had stood only a few seconds before. The wolves and the bounty hunters were obscured from view and Timber had no idea whether they had been buried in the slide or had escaped it as they had.
“Looks like we’ve left our worries behind us, Timber!” yelped Luke Bell, his rawboned mule keeping pace with the hunter’s roan.
Timber wasn’t so sure, though. Half of him wanted to believe that it was the end of it all. But the other half – the cynical mistrust of the loner – still had its doubts. Foes like Cripplefoot or Elijah Cox and his men were not adversaries to be taken lightly. Timber would not be at all surprised if both wolves and bounty hunters had survived the avalanche at Mountain Cross. And, if that turned out to be the case, then both would be coming after him with a vengeance.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You’ve brought me more patients in the last few days than I’ve had all winter long,” J.W. Barrett told Timber Gray as they helped the injured cowhand up the snowy walkway to the doctor’s front porch.
