Pike nodded. “In trusting a man like you.”
Edge shrugged. “Man’s never too old to learn. But I reckon that lesson came too late in your life, feller.”
“Drop your gun, Mr. Edge,” Elizabeth commanded sharply.
Again Edge merely glanced at her before returning his concentration towards Pike. She was pointing the pepperbox at him from a range of less than six feet. Her hand was shaking, but he realized she had probably been more scared when she shot the Sioux brave.
“You’ve seen what I can do with this,” she said coldly, as if reading his mind.
“What’s he to you?” Edge asked.
“As much as you,” she answered. “Not much, but the best of a bad bunch. I don’t want to shoot you, Mr. Edge, but I will unless you drop the rifle.”
Pike smiled with his mouth. “I think she means it, Edge,” he warned.
“I know she does,” Edge answered and allowed the Winchester to clatter to the hard, frozen ground.
“And your gunbelt,” Elizabeth pressed.
Edge pursed his lips in a silent whistle as he unbuckled the belt and allowed it to fall, the holstered Colt striking the rifle barrel. A motion with the Ladies Companion urged both men to back away from their fallen weapons. She used a foot to drag the guns into an untidy heap.
“You have no other firearms, Mr. Pike?” she asked.
He touched his hat brim. “You have my word, ma’am.”
She nodded her acceptance of this and gave a short sigh of relief, followed at once by a tight-lipped smile. “Now we can talk turkey,” she said.
“Carved up three ways?” Edge suggested.
“I saved the life of one of you,” she answered. “Why, for goodness sake, you could have killed each other. It’s not too much to ask.”
“Virtue is its own reward, Miss Day,” Pike quoted. “You did what you thought was right and now you’d better leave things as they are. The gesture was commendable, but useless I’m afraid.”
He raised his injured hand to his mouth and sucked gently at the wound. His eyes locked upon those of Edge. “Not only guns, uh?” he asked, his tongue licking blood from his lips.
“What do you think, feller?” Edge asked, taking a half step towards Pike.
“That you aren’t as stupid as you look,” Pike replied and took a half step of his own.
“Stop it!” Elizabeth pleaded, waving the tiny gun between the two men. “You’re both stupid.”
It was as if neither man heard her words. They approached each other with measured slowness, halting a yard apart, on the far side of the dying fire from the woman.
“Time to carve?” Pike asked softly.
“It’s the man’s job,” Edge answered. As he spoke the final word, his right hand shot to the back of his neck in a blur of movement. It emerged from beneath his long hair only a split-second later. The blade of the razor had a murderous glint in the bright sunlight.
The woman gasped, at his speed and in exasperation that she had forgotten about this weapon. She pointed her tiny gun at Edge but the compulsion to fire was swamped by a more forceful demand not to.
Pike went down into a stoop, as if to duck under a thrust from the razor. But the movement was merely the first stage in a lightning attacking stratagem of his own. His good hand disappeared for a moment through a split in his pants at calf level. When it emerged, it was clutching a wooden-handled knife with a six-inch stiletto blade. As he straightened the double-edged weapon bounced sunlight into the half-breed’s eyes.
“Goodness!” the woman exclaimed and threw her hands up to her face as the knife was thrust towards Edge’s stomach.
“But no mercy,” Edge muttered as he side-stepped and slashed the razor crosswise.
Pike grunted and jerked his head back. The razor nicked the tip of his nose and blood oozed.
“Should have kept it out of my business,” Edge told him coldly as he went into a half crouch, moving his body slowly to left and right
“Money is my business, mister,” Pike shot back, and leapt at his man.
Edge’s reflexes, honed sharper than the razor, sent his body into a sideways arch. His arm moved and the razor slashed again, this time towards Pike’s throat But the smaller man was just as fast. His free hand sprang up, his forearm blocking the slash. The knife was turned by a snapping wrist action. Instead of stabbing into Edge’s stomach, it sliced through his pants and cut a narrow gash in the lean flesh of his hip.
“Please!” the woman screamed, looking at the two men through the cracks between her fingers.
Edge dropped his left arm with force, trapping Pike’s knife hand against his injured side. He grinned down into the surprised face of the smaller man, but an instant later knew Pike was faking. For as he drew back the razor to slash it in an arc under the other’s defense, Pike brought up his knee.
White hot pain exploded from Edge’s groin and sent burning sparks to every nerve in his body. He staggered backwards and the knife was jerked free. The blade cut through his coat and shirt sleeve and sliced deep into his upper arm. He fought to stay on his feet, to keep Pike in his agony-blurred vision as he stumbled in involuntary retreat from the smaller man’s advance. But the heel of his boot stepped into the tin coffee mug and he fell. He flailed his arms and saw the sky reel above him. For a blinding moment he stared full into the sun. Then his back jarred against the ground and a fresh wave of pain gripped him with an immobilizing force.
“Leave him!” Elizabeth shrieked. “You’ve beaten him.”
Pike slowed his advance, but there was no lessening of intent upon his weathered face as he spun the knife in the air and caught it by the tip. “Only one way he’ll ever admit to it, ma’am,” he said softly.
He threw the knife.
Elizabeth fired the gun.
Edge rolled.
The half-breed’s mind was tossing in a broiling sea of agony that was his body. He neither saw the knife coming at him nor heard the tiny crack of the gun. But that instinct for self-preservation which had kept him alive through so many violent years, snapped him into action.
The knife was buried to the hilt in the ground which an instant before had been warmed by Edge’s body.
Pike yelled in pained surprise as the bullet grazed the nape of his neck.
Elizabeth gasped and stared in horror at the smoking pepperbox. “Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed.
Pike lunged full-length at Edge, both hands reaching for the razor. Edge had rolled full circle and saw his attacker as a shadowy form in front of the sun. Then the shadow gained substance as Pike’s weight crashed on top of him. As Pike’s fingers locked upon his right wrist, Edge swung his left arm in a powerful half circle. He chopped the man hard across the back of the neck. Pike revealed his pain only by a sudden rush of expelled breath which was hot against Edge’s face.
Locked together, both men rolled. First one way and then the other. Edge kept his arm tight around Pike’s neck as Pike sought to wrench the razor free. Blood from their wounds stained their clothes and the ground. Their breathing became ragged. By turns, each tried to stand, but neither was prepared to allow the other the advantage of height, even for a split-second.
“Stop it at once, or I’ll...” The woman’s pretty face, drained of color, was suddenly contorted by indecision as she looked about her, searching for a tangible threat. Then her frightened eyes settled upon the men’s tethered horses. She released the reins of her own mount and hoisted her skirts to run across to the contentedly grazing animals. “Or I’ll turn them loose!” she finished.
The men did not hear her.
Pike was twisting his hands in opposite directions around Edge’s wrist. Edge gritted his teeth against the burning pain, but was forced to release his grip on the razor. Pike started a sigh, of satisfaction, but it ended as a startled cry as the half-breed’s body bucked beneath him. He was freed at the neck and rose several inches into the air. As he dropped, Edge’s left fist smashed into the side of his j
aw. His head slammed into his shoulder and he collapsed limply on to the hard leanness of the half-breed’s body.
“I warned you!” Elizabeth yelled with a sob in her voice.
“You can’t say I didn’t!”
She stooped and fumbled with trembling fingers at the tethers. Edge snaked his pain-wracked body out from beneath the dead weight of Pike and started to scramble to his feet. But Pike recovered an instant too soon and clutched at the half-breed’s ankles, jerking him over again. As Edge sat down hard, Pike released him and sprang on to his haunches, then upright. Edge was only a moment behind him in gaining his feet
“I warned you!” the woman shrieked and stood between the two horses to slap them hard on their hindquarters.
The animals snorted in protest, reared and bolted. They galloped full-tilt down the slope, directly towards the two men. The sound of their hoof beats unlocked the stare of cold hatred that linked their glinting eyes. Each man saw the animals bearing down upon him and sprang back out of their path. The horses streaked between them and their headlong dash spooked the woman’s mount. It wheeled and raced in pursuit.
Edge and Pike watched the three animals splash across the river fork and then race up the incline on the other side, to disappear over the rise. Within moments the sound of their hoof beats had faded into the distance. The two men looked at each other again. The killer glint had left their eyes and the tension had drained from their bodies.
“Bad enough the way we are,” Pike suggested.
Blood was crusted on his nose and around his mouth. He put a hand to the back of his neck and his fingers came away coated with fresh, red moisture. There was an ugly bruise on his jaw.
“A better time and a better place,” Edge agreed.
His coat sleeve and pants leg were stained by dried blood.
“I did warn you,” Elizabeth said meekly as both men turned to look at her. She tried to hold their cold stares, but was forced to hang her head. “Perhaps we can catch them?” she tried.
Edge jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “They went thataway,” he snarled. “I reckon you’ll be able to run faster if you shed a few of those fancy clothes.”
Elizabeth caught her breath as Edge took a step towards her. Then she remembered she was still holding the pepper-box and she jerked it up. “What do you mean?” she demanded.
Edge continued to move towards her, pushing a hand inside the slit in his pants. When he withdrew it the fingers and palm were shiny with new blood. He halted a yard from her and held up his hand, bunched into a fist
“Edge!” Pike yelled threateningly.
Edge opened his hand fast and droplets of blood sprayed across the woman’s face. She let out a horrified howl and dropped the tiny gun so she had both hands free to scrub at her face.
“I’m bleeding, lady!” Edge snarled at her.
Pike approached her now, but his mundanely handsome face did not reflect Edge’s hatred. And his tone was soft, understanding. “We need to have our wounds dressed, Miss Day,” he explained. “Nothing we’re wearing is suitable for bandages.”
Relief flooded her pretty face and she nodded vigorously, anxious to help. “If you’ll just turn your backs for a moment,” she replied.
Edge shook his head. “No, lady,” he told her. “Somebody as stupid as you needs to be watched the whole time. I let you out of my sight and maybe you’ll whip up more trouble.”
“What could I possibly do, for goodness sake?” she asked.
“You’ll think of something,” Edge told her. “Get them off!”
“Don’t be so crude!” she snapped in reply, but stooped to reach under the dress for her petticoats. She stepped out of them delicately, ensuring they did not fall to the ground.
“Shall I do it?” Pike asked, reaching out his good hand.
She gave the frothy white garment to him and as he began to tear the material into strips, Edge backed away and gathered up his discarded weapons. Pike watched him without appearing to do so, tense for a few moments. But then, as the tall half-breed carefully pushed the razor into its neck pouch and squatted down to check the actions of the guns, he relaxed as much as the pain allowed. He still did not trust Edge, but realized that for some reason of his own, the man with the cruel face and killer’s instinct was prepared to honor the truce.
For his part, Edge trusted the smaller man implicitly, for he had revised his opinion of him. Pike was not like himself. He was tough, strong, fast and smart. He was also a killer. But whatever force of circumstances had led him along the trail of violence, it had not stripped him of every vestige of humanity. He continued to cling to a shred - perhaps even the whole canvas - of a code of honor. This was what made him different from Edge, and diminished him as an adversary in the half-breed’s eyes.
Pike worked skillfully and quickly at transforming die woman’s underwear into bandages and dressings. She, still intent upon making restitution for her action in scaring off the horses, obeyed his politely spoken instructions without complaint. She built up the fire, then washed the coffee pot clean of dregs before filling it with fresh creek water and placing it amid the flames.
“Edge first,” Pike said as she tried to examine his neck wound.
Edge had sat quietly smoking as he watched the activity, a pensive frown upon his leathery features. He reached for the whiskey bottle and took a swig before allowing Elizabeth to ease off his sheepskin jacket and roll up the sleeve to reveal the arm wound.
“You’d better save some of that to disinfect the wounds,” Pike suggested evenly.
Edge nodded and corked the bottle, then watched as, following Pike’s instructions, the woman cleaned his wounds. She had some difficulty with the cut on his hip since she tried not to see too much of the exposed flesh when she had eased his pants down away from the wound. But she managed it as gently as she could. Then she poured whiskey on to pads and bound up both wounds with bandages.
She went through the same procedure with the ugly-looking bullet wounds on Pike’s hand and neck and then cleaned up the blood from his cut nose. Edge noticed, with a feeling he was annoyed to identify as resentment, that she took greater care with the smaller man’s injuries.
“We didn’t lose too much blood,” Pike said when Elizabeth had completed her nursing chore. “But it’s a long walk back. We’ll have to take it slowly and rest regularly.”
“You talk like a doctor,” Elizabeth said, surprised, as she smoothed out her dress, trying to get the skirts to hang properly without a petticoat beneath.
“And acts like one, some of the time,” Edge put in as he got to his feet, buckling his gunbelt and resting the Winchester across his shoulder.
Pike showed them his crooked smile. “I don’t practice anymore,” he said. “You won’t be getting a bill, Edge.”
Edge hung his own brand of mirthless humor on his stubbled face. “You’ll get paid, feller,” he answered.
“A better time and a better place?” Pike quoted back to the half-breed.
Elizabeth felt the tension between the two men, and saw the latent anger behind their cold eyes. “I wish I hadn’t run the horses off,” she said quickly. “I had some food in my saddlebags. I’m hungry.”
“We’ll all be a lot hungrier by the time we reach town,” Pike told her, but took the implied rebuke from his tone with a gentle smile. He glanced around at the barren terrain. “No chance of finding anything to eat out here. But there’s plenty of water.” He glanced at Edge. “If we take the long way back.” He drew no response from the half-breed. “Keeping out the cold is going to be our biggest problem,” he concluded, buttoning the high collar of his coat.
Elizabeth snatched up the whiskey bottle from the ground. “This will help!” she shouted excitedly. But then disappointment spread across her face as she saw the meager contents of the bottle. “Goodness, there’s only a mouthful left.”
Edge sighed and turned to move down to the bank of the creek. “Seems like one swallow’s going to have to
make Summer,” he tossed back at them.
CHAPTER TEN
NIGHT had re-established its freezing grip on the ill-named town when the cold, empty-bellied trio crossed the rickety trestle bridge and started up August Street. That element of the local citizenry which frowned upon the money-hungry transients that Haven’s offer had attracted had already retreated behind the barred doors and shuttered windows of their houses. But the lights of Solar Circle were shining their expensive welcome to weary travelers and the noise of those enjoying the pleasures inside The Gates of Heaven had a pleasing ring after the unaltering silence of the Badlands.
They had talked little on the long walk following the water course: Edge not at all and Pike and Elizabeth Day only when it was absolutely necessary.
“I don’t owe you anything, Edge,” Pike said softly as they crossed the intersection at August and July and saw the charred ruins of Frank’s Livery.
“You owe me, feller,” Edge shot back in the same key. “For the trouble you caused leading Miss Goody Twoshoes out there.”
Elizabeth seemed about to say something, but realized that she had apologized enough. They had forgiven her to the extent of leaving her unharmed and she could expect nothing more from such men as these.
Pike nodded. “Okay. So I’m not doing you a favor. I’m repaying a debt by telling you to keep looking over your shoulder in this town.”
The half-breed’s teeth shone in the lights from Solar Circle. “You wouldn’t shoot a man in the back, doc,” he said.
“Not me,” Pike said with a shake of his head. “I patched up the liveryman after you’d worked him over. His name’s Brad Rivers. Related by marriage to Frank Chandler, who owns that burned building. Rivers was explicit about what Chandler would do to you if you ever came back to Summer.”
They were almost at Solar Circle now, but August Street although lined on this block by stores and businesses premises still open, continued to harbor areas of darkness. Pike’s words and the tone in which he spoke them earned A Elizabeth to peer hard into the shadows and her imagination saw menace in every looming shape.
Bloody Summer Page 9
