How could they know? He seemed merely a handsome, well-set-up young man, well-dressed and poised. How could they know what lay behind him?
Their destination was only a short distance beyond the limits of the town. Val glanced out of the coach window and across the fields. Just over there, not half a mile away, was the deserted barn with their two horses. The coach came to a sudden halt beside a small grove, where two saddle horses were tied.
Val saw Will give them a quick glance, and knew what he was seeing. One of the horses was the one Louise rode. Was she to be here?
They walked through the trees to a small clearing, perhaps half an acre in extent. Across the clearing, in riding clothes, stood Louise and a tall young man. She wore a gray riding habit, and looked lovely, but her eyes were wide and frightened.
The young man wore a beautiful fur-trimmed coat, which he now removed and dropped over a rock.
Louise spoke, “Pavel …please! “
“No, my cousin, we are going to teach this American some manners. I hope you will also profit by the lesson.”
“Pavel—”
“Remove his coat, if you please,” he said to the men holding Will. They stripped off his coat, and he made no resistance. The soft material of his white shirt was ruffled by the breeze. He was smiling.
Val, unnoticed by the others, had edged nearer.
“Now, peasant, you are going to get a whipping. The kind of whipping we reserve for such as you.”
“This is rather absurd, don’t you think?” Will asked. “If you wish to call the whole thing off, Prince Pavel, I will accept your apology.”
“Myapology!” Pavel’s features went taut with anger.
“I must have heard about you, Prince Pavel. I have heard you do not pay your gambling debts, and that you will marry your cousin to this wealthy man so he will pay them for you.”
“Stand back,” Pavel said to the others, “and give me the whip.”
It was a long whip, not unlike the western black-snake or bull whip.
Val was amazed, not so much that they should plan to whip his uncle, but that they were so sure they could.
“Let me do it, sir.” The man who stepped forward was a husky brute, and Val saw Will glance at him, marking him for future attention. “I have some skill at such things.”
“Of course not,” Pavel replied shortly. “I reserve the pleasure for myself.” He coiled the whip, drawing the lash almost lovingly through his fingers.
During his early years Will Reilly had made a trip over the Santa Fe Trail, working as a teamster. He had used just such a whip, and he had seen and participated in the brutal whip battles fought by teamsters, who could flick a fly from the shoulder of a bull without touching the skin.
He knew the tactics well, and when Pavel swung the whip and shot the lash at him, Will stepped an easy pace forward, blocked the whip with his forearm, and the lash coiled about it. Instantly his hand dropped, grasped the whip, and gave a tremendous jerk.
Prince Pavel was jerked off balance, the whip flying from his hand as he went to his knees on the turf.
One of the men lunged toward Reilly, but Val promptly tripped him. Will reversed the whip and snapped it viciously at Pavel. The tip of the whip snapped at the young Russian, ripping his shirt and starting blood from his shoulder.
Pavel screamed and, moving lightly as a dancer moves, Will Reilly stepped about quickly. The husky man who had begged for the chance at the whip was next, and the lash whipped his shoulders, snapped at his belly, laid open his cheek.
The action had been so swift that the others had been caught off guard. They were not fighting men, as such, just strong bullies hired for a job. Will moved, now a deadly dancer, his whip a darting snake that drew blood wherever it landed. It struck Pavel’s cheek, ripping the flesh, and the Prince screamed again, clapping his hands to his face. The lash popped again, and this time the end dug into his forehead.
Suddenly the man who had been the leader of the group, the one who had sat opposite Val in the restaurant, dug a hand into his coat pocket and came up with a pistol.
Will stepped back closer to Val. “Now!” he said, and from under his coat Val took the pistol he had carried for Will, and tossed it to him. Deftly, he caught it with his left hand even as he moved.
The man had leveled his gun to fire, and Will Reilly fired, almost casually. The man rose on his tiptoes, his gun went off into the turf, and he fell forward on his face in the grass.
At the sound of the shot, its report echoing against the mountainsides, there came a silence. It was no longer a few men giving a whipping to a man for a price. It was death.
Prince Pavel was on his knees, blood streaking his face and neck, his shirt soaked with it. He was staring at Will, stunned horror in his eyes. “Don’t … don’t kill me!”
The other men were backing away, looking for a chance to run. “You’ll pay for this!” one of them shouted. “You will never leave the country alive!”
Will Reilly dropped the whip, and walked over to where his coat lay. He put it on, shifting the gun from hand to hand as he did so.
Only then did he look at Louise, who stood shocked and white, unable to believe her eyes.
“I am sorry, Louise, that this happened in your presence,” Will Reilly said. “I am not a man to accept a whipping for any reason—least of all, for loving you.”
“You have killed him.”
“He would have killed me. He was armed, and he was intending to shoot. I had no choice.”
He glanced at Pavel. “Had he challenged me, I would have fought him. Or we might have met together and talked of this. Instead, he chose this method.”
“I fight only withgentlemen!” Pavel was on his feet, shaken, but with a show of confidence returning.
“Judging by the company you keep,” Reilly said coolly, “you need have no fears.”
He turned to Louise. “Will you come with me now? I shall return to my own country.”
She seemed to hesitate, and stared at him.
“No!” Pavel shouted. “You can not!” He grasped her arm. “He is a murderer! He will be hunted down and thrown into prison, then executed! You would ruin us all!”
Will Reilly stood quietly, while Val shifted from one foot to the other, anxious to be away. Some of the men were already away through the trees, and it was no more than thirty minutes of fast walking to the edge of the city. And these men would be running.
“Louise?”
“No … I can not.”
One long moment he looked at her. “Goodbye, Louise.” He had thrown in his hand, and Val knew it.
“Come, Val.” He turned, thrusting the gun into his waistband. He stumbled once, and glancing up, Val saw Will’s face was drawn and pale.
Val caught his hand. “We must hurry, Uncle Will. Those men will have almost reached Innsbruck, and people there may have heard the shot.”
With Val leading the way, they turned abruptly from the road and went down a path that led across the fields, partly concealed by a line of trees.
“Wait a minute.” Will stopped. “We’ve got to get horses—”
“They’re waiting in the barn over there,” Val pointed. “I had Luigi put them there. I paid for them,” he added, “out of your anchor money.”
That anchor money had been a joke between them. It was a little money Will Reilly always kept for a road stake in the event he had to move swiftly. He had once jokingly referred to it as his up-anchor money, but the phrase had somehow been trimmed over the years.
They walked swiftly. Will Reilly was no fool. He was a traveler with no local standing, and no influence, while Prince Pavel came from a powerful family with connections in many European countries. If Will Reilly was arrested now there would be small prospect of escape.
“We’re going to be in trouble,” he said to Val. “I haven’t been gambling lately, and I’ve spent a good bit. I wish we dared go back and get that anchor money.”
“We don’t ne
ed to,” Val replied, “I’ve got it here.”
They dipped down through a stream bed, crossed a stone wall, and went up the grassy slope to the barn. Luigi got up from where he had been sitting. “The horses are saddled,” he said, “but you must hurry.”
There were three horses, and Luigi said, “You would never get over the mountains without me, and if I take you over the mountains you might take me to America.”
“That we will,” Reilly said, and swung into the saddle.
They followed footpaths and cart roads to the village of Axams, then across country toward the Sellrainer.
It was clear and cool. The wind from off the Alps was fresh, the horses lively, eager to go. The meadows were matted with wild flowers. The mountain slopes were dark forests of pine. Once a small blue butterfly lit for an instant on the mane of Val’s horse and then was gone.
There was no sound but the beat of hoofs. How long before their route would be discovered? How long before pursuit could be organized? A man was dead, and another man of power and influence had been beaten with a whip. They would come, Val was sure of that.
Will led the way Luigi had pointed, and Luigi fell back beside Val. “Tell me. What happened?”
When Val had told him, his only comment was, “It is what I said, he is a man, that one!”
“Where are you taking us?”
He pointed at the vast wall of the Stubaier Alps. “Over that. On the other side is Italy; or if you wish we can go west, and there is Switzerland.”
“But they will follow us.”
He shrugged. “They will try all the roads first. It will give us time. Not many know the way we are going, although the mountaineers would guess. They will not know at first that we are mounted, and they will try to close the best-known roads. By the time they know what we have done, we shall, with luck, be lost back in the Alps.”
When they reached the Sellrainer there was a good cart road that followed the stream as far as the village of Gries, where a footpath continued on up the gorge of the Melach. It was wild and picturesque. Somewhere near was the hunting lodge of the Emperor Maximilian I, but they had no time to think of such things. Soon they would leave the horses at the farm of a man known to Luigi, and from there on it was walk all the way.
“We can get what we need from my friend,” Luigi said. “He has warm clothes, boots, packsacks … everything.”
“I will want a good rifle,” Will said.
Luigi shrugged. “That, I think, is impossible. We will have enough to carry without it.”
They were climbing steadily. Around them the high fields were green, and there were many butterflies, mostly of the small blue variety, and many birds. Twice he saw what Luigi told him were golden eagles, and once the fearedlammergeier, or bearded vulture.
The farm of Luigi’s friend was a pleasant place when they came to it, a barn for the cows, sheepfold, and a rather larger than usual house with white walls and an overhanging roof. They rode into the yard and a short, stocky man appeared in the doorway, studied them carefully for a moment, and then came down the grassy slope to meet them.
“Friends of mine,” Luigi said, “they are going over the mountain.”
The man scarcely glanced at them. “Come in, then.” He turned his back to them, went back inside, and they followed him.
Seated at a table cleaning a rifle was a young man with a buxom woman, and two equally buxom flaxen-haired girls. A fire was going, for the evening was chill at the altitude. “You will spend the night,” the man said. He glanced at Val. “The boy is too young. It is a hard climb.”
“He is a strong boy,” Will said. “He is accustomed to mountains.”
The man took his pipe from his mouth. “I have told you,” he said simply. He turned to his wife and spoke to her in Italian.
“He is Tirolean,” Luigi explained, “but his wife is Italian … from Merano. They have many friends,” he added, “in Italy as as in Switzerland. He knows everybody.”
Luigi left the room with the Tirolean, returning after a short time. “He wants too much,” he said, “but he will accept the horses.”
“I’ll bet he will,” Will said. “And everything else he can get.”
“We can make a deal on the horses because I have threatened to take them back to Gries, where I know a man who will buy them.” He accepted a cup of coffee, and added, “There is no fooling him. Men do not come this far into the mountains at such an hour without a special reason.”
“Did you tell him what happened?”
“He does not wish to know. You come, he sells, he knows nothing … he does not suspect anything, you see? If the police ask he will tell them nothing important. He is a master at it.”
They were silent then. Will Reilly sipped his coffee and stared into the fire, remembering. Val dozed, woke once, and dozed again.
After a long time Luigi spoke again. “You know what lies ahead, do you not? The trail is narrow, part of it is all right, part is very steep, very rough. And there can be storms—and if you have not seen a sudden storm in the Alps, you have seen nothing.”
Will shrugged. “Is there an alternative?”
“No.”
“Then …”
Chapter Six.
It was dark and cold when Val woke up. Will Reilly was sitting on the edge of his bed, dressing. “Better get dressed, Val. We’ve got to be moving.”
“Where is Luigi?”
“I don’t know. His bed is empty.”
Val put his feet to the floor and dressed in silence. He might have expected this, for Will was moving true to form. Always the unexpected … always the quick start, and then travel faster than anyone could expect.
When he was dressed he went into the kitchen. Will was making coffee. “A warm drink will do us good. Get your gear together, Val. You’ll be glad of those heavy boots before the day is over.”
“Will we be in the snow?”
“Not until dark, I’m thinking.”
“What happened to Luigi?”
“He’s around, I believe, but if he isn’t, we will move out on our own. I’m ashamed, Val. I was tired, and that and the fresh mountain air made me sleep sounder.”
They heard someone stirring in the other room, then the door opened and the Tirolean came out, stuffing his shirt into his pants. “You make free,” he said.
“We hoped we would not disturb you,” Will said, smiling. “After all, why should you and your family get up just because we must? And we thought an early start would be advisable.”
The man looked sour, but whether it was the early hour or something gone awry with their plans, Val could not guess.
He dragged their packs to the door, then went to the table. Will had made chocolate for him. There was bread, jam, and some cold meat on the table.
“You cannot see. It is early to walk on the mountain,” the Tirolean said.
“Oh, we’ll manage!” Will had not seated himself, Val noticed, and knowing the ways of his friend he held himself ready to move quickly. Anything unusual made Will Reilly wary, and Luigi had no reason to be gone—or none they could think of.
Suddenly Will put down his cup. “All right, Val. Get your pack on.”
“You leave without Luigi?” the Tirolean protested.
Will shrugged. “He’s probably waiting for us. If not, he’ll catch up.”
Never turning his back on the man, Will helped Val with his pack, then held the door open for him and stepped into the doorway after him.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling pleasantly. “You have no idea how we appreciate this.” And he drew the door to behind him.
Will moved out at a good pace and Val was hard put to keep up. It was a cart track, then a herdsman’s track, and almost at once it began to climb steeply. Each of them had a staff, which helped.
Below them a few lights showed in the village, and then they rounded a bend. Will slowed his pace. By now they were about half a mile from the village.
“What hap
pened?” Val asked.
Will paused a moment, looking back, giving Val a chance to catch his breath without mentioning it. “Val, most people are sadly, weakly human. Don’t ever forget that. All but a few mean to be honest, but sometimes their ambition, their greed, or their need for more money will lead them into error. Probably there is a simple explanation for Luigi being gone. Probably the Tirolean was annoyed because we were up before him, in his own house, and made so free as to prepare our breakfast.
“On the other hand, they may have had second thoughts. Prince Pavel would probably pay a good sum to know what became of me, and after all, the police will be after me. They may have persuaded themselves they should report me.”
“I don’t think Luigi would do it.”
“Maybe not. I don’t like to think so, either. Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt, and keep moving while we are doing it.”
They walked in silence for better than a mile, and then paused for a brief rest.
The stars were out, although far up in the sky over the mountains it was growing light. Presently they could distinguish one tree from another, and they could see where they were putting their feet. The green valley of the Otz lay far below them now, shadowed still, although they walked in sunlight. Val was a good walker, and at one time or another he had done a lot of walking. He had always loved the mountains, and much of his walking had been done at much higher elevations than this. He had gone over passes twelve or thirteen thousand feet up in Colorado; and if what he had heard was correct, few of these passes were anywhere near that.
The men who lived in this region were all mountain men who hunted on these high slopes, and would be making better time if they tried to follow, but as Will told him, “We’ve a good start, Val, and they know I am armed. Most of them are family men who would have little sympathy with such men as Pavel Pavelovitch.”
Will kept their pace easy, and made frequent stops. Shortly after noon they made a longer one, ate a little bread and cheese, and drank from a cold stream that ran off the mountain nearby.
By midafternoon, Val was having a hard time of it. His legs were tired, and the climb had become steeper, or so it seemed to him. Once, when they had stopped, they sat watching a golden eagle swing against the vault of the sky.
Reilly's Luck (1970) Page 6
