After the Fall

by Darrel Sparkman

  * * * *

  The young girl regained consciousness with a rush of pain and nausea. She remembered someone grabbing her from behind as she walked toward the church. She remembered a struggle, but did not recall much after that.

  Now, she was sitting on the ground where the man had unceremoniously dumped her. She rubbed her stomach, sore from the way she'd been draped over the saddle.

  "Mister, don't do this."

  "Now you be quiet, missy. I don't want to hurt you."

  "Like hell you don't,” she said. “You are the one who has been killing all the girls."

  He pointed his handgun at her. “Hold out your wrists so I can tie them."

  When she did not, he casually reached out and hit her on the side of the head with his pistol. “Now,” he said reasonably.

  She held her hands out as the first feeling of panic began to set in. Stall. Do what he wants. Anything. Trent will be coming. She had heard her father talk of him and knew he was like a god to the woods runners. Everyone either admired him or was afraid of him. Stall. Trent will come.

  As if reading her thoughts, the man laughed. “That boy won't catch up to us."

  She replied angrily. “He'll come, and if not him, my father will. You don't know what you have done, do you? My father is Jeremiah Starking. He can bring a hundred men after you if he wants."

  As the man was apparently unimpressed by her father's name, she watched the man turn to face back toward the direction they had come. The trail he watched spiraled around the mountain. At different points, she knew he could see the back trail. As she watched, he suddenly raised his gun and fired.

  The Watcher turned to the girl, chuckling. His body and mouth looked like he was laughing, but his eyes appeared stone cold and lifeless.

  "Believe you may be right,” he said. “That boy is running, not using a horse. Smart. Knows he can go where we cannot. Yeah, I'd say this is going to be interesting."

  "See? Like I said, mister, you'd better let me go."

  Without replying, the man picked her up and put her on the front of the saddle. Mounting behind her, his hands lingered on her thighs and breasts. “We got to move, missy."

  * * * *

  Later in the morning, both the horse and riders were hot and tired, and the man stopped to water his horse. Carrying double in this heat was hard on the animal. Walking upstream, he braced himself on his hands and leaned forward to drink from the cool stream.

  His reflection in the stream exploded in a froth of mud and water as a 7.62mm bullet plowed into it at 2400 feet per second. The man jerked backwards as a second round hit the soft earth where he had been, splattering him with mud. A third notched the heel of his moccasin, taking a bloody piece out of his heel. Whining with apparent fury, he dodged his way back to the horse, bullets kicking rocks all around him. The girl stayed motionless, hoping to go unnoticed, knowing if she moved it would hamper the shooter. The Watcher gave her one wild look, stopped, then threw her on his horse and went pounding down the trail.

  * * * *

  Trent cursed his luck and poor marksmanship, a sick feeling in his stomach. He had done the one thing he could not do. He had missed!

  From behind him came a stampede of sound. Trent whirled to see Chico and Katie riding into the clearing at the top of the bald knob.

  "You made time, Chico."

  "I heard shots."

  "I missed him, Chico. I had him and I missed him."

  "Shit.” Chico's fervent oath said it all. Then, he brightened. “The girl is alive?"

  "So far."

  "Starking is coming behind us and he is going to kill someone. If not the man we are after, maybe us. I'm thinking he won't be too particular. He is mad, my friend."

  "Don't blame him.” Trent had already been moving toward the trail down the mountain and Katie continued to push him in that direction.

  "Go. Go,” she cried.

  Trent grabbed Chico by the arm. Pointing, he asked, “Where does that trail come out?"

  Chico looked down at the trail, then looked around more closely at the mountain. He grinned. “The trail he is on has cliffs on both sides. He has to stay on it until the other side of the mountain. There is a small park that the trail empties into."

  Mistake number two. “How long?” Trent relieved Cruz of his favorite leather riata as he talked.

  "Couple of hours,” Cruz replied.

  "How long to go over the top?” Trent asked.

  "For a bird? Not long. But you cannot do it, my friend, even with my fine rope."

  "If I can make it over, I can be waiting for him at the clearing on the other side.” Trent turned to Chico. “Get behind him, Chico. Push him. Not too hard, but stay close enough that he knows you are there. Watch he doesn't double back on you."

  Trent disappeared into the trees before Chico could answer.

  * * * *

  After he left, Katie's voice was apprehensive. “Chico, what if the man we're chasing is Gunny? It is the only thing about this that makes sense. Gunny is the only one who is unaccounted for."

  Chico Cruz sat looking at Katie, his expression fearful for the first time. It might make a difference. Could Trent kill his friend? Or would it slow his hand enough to be the instrument of his death.

  Shaking his head, and slapping his horse, Chico Cruz went helling down the mountain, making more noise than he had made in years. Katie was right behind him, pulling the packhorse. They would push him, all right. Maybe even catch him.

  Chapter 20

  TRENT STOOD AT the edge of a clearing, bent at the waist, holding his side and taking ragged, deep breaths. His hands were torn and bloody. A long gash bled down his left side and soaked his shirt, where he had slipped on a jagged edge of limestone. His hat had fluttered down a sheer precipice, somewhere behind him.

  As he looked around, he could see no sign anyone had passed this way. He breathed a silent prayer that he was in time, and that the abductor had not stopped along the way. With luck, Chico had pushed the man hard enough to make him careless.

  He didn't have long to wait. His answer came with a slight rustle of leaves, and a scrape of a branch along buckskin as a man rode out of the forest and into the clearing.

  "Hold it.” Trent's voice was level and cold.

  The man flinched, then slowly relaxed. “Sure,” he said, as he turned in the saddle. “How you doin', boy?"

  "Gunny?” Trent looked back down the trail. “Did you see..."

  Trent suddenly became aware of the abducted girl struggling to get up from where Gunny had dumped her in the weeds along the edge of the trail. Gunny sat facing him, hands folded across the pommel of his saddle.

  "You,” Trent said.

  "I reckon."

  He was speechless for a moment. “My God. Why, Gunny?"

  "I don't owe you anything, boy, least of all explanations."

  Trent almost missed seeing the rifle coming up in Gunny's hands. Throwing himself to the side, he palmed his revolver. The roar of Gunny's rifle deafened him at close range. The shot went high over Trent's shoulder and ricocheted off an outcropping of limestone. Flakes from the rock hit him like bee stings.

  Trent's first shot hit the action of Gunny's rifle, splintering the stock. The second took him high in the shoulder, punching him out of the saddle.

  Gunny sat up groggily in the grass and stuck his finger in the hole in his shoulder. “You like to shot the lights out of me, boy."

  Trent just stood there, his mind still trying to comprehend what his eyes and ears were telling him.

  "It's him, John.” Katie's soft voice came to him from behind. Chico and Katie had come up during the shooting.

  "I know."

  "Take me to the shade, boy,” Gunny said. “I could die in this heat."

  Trent walked to Gunny and kicked the shotgun away. Reaching down, he relieved Gunny of his handgun and knife. Pulling him to his feet, Trent helped Gunny walk to a pine tree, leaning him against the trunk.

  Katie
and Chico led the girl away. She was sobbing and cursing in the same breath.

  Gunny looked at Trent with a hard gaze, still trying to bluff it out. “Why'd you shoot me, boy?"

  "You had the girl. You were...” Trent's voice faded as metal and wood clanked at his feet.

  Katie calmly walked away again. Looking down, Trent saw a pile of tent pegs and rope. Half hidden in the tangle of rope was a branding iron. A small blackened cross adorned the end of it. Trent's gaze slowly came up to meet Gunny's.

  "All those women."

  Gunny slid down the trunk of the tree, seemingly oblivious to the blood seeping from his shoulder wound. “What difference does it make, boy? I just do it. Sometimes I remember, sometimes I don't. None of them women was any good. At first, they act as if they don't want it. But they do at the end, they all do. They do anything I want."

  "Even my wife?” Trent asked softly.

  "Now, I didn't know that at the time. I'm sorry about that one."

  "You're sorry.” Trent's voice became lifeless. “What about Saints and Hobbs?"

  Gunny shrugged, grimacing with pain.

  The shot startled them. Bark exploded from the tree next to Gunny's head and Trent threw himself to the side, a woman's angry scream ringing in his ears. Coming up off the ground, he saw Cruz taking a rifle away from Starking's daughter. Whipping back around, his hand streaking for his gun, all he saw was empty space. Gunny was gone!

  Chapter 21

  STANDING IN THE sunlit clearing, Trent looked past the girls at Cruz. The man shrugged.

  "I was watching you, not the girl. I didn't think."

  Starking's daughter tried to explain. “I'm sorry. I was mad. I..."

  Katie grabbed the girl's shirtfront. “Don't you realize what you have done? He's loose again."

  "Katherine.” Trent's voice was calm as his eyes searched the trees. “It's nobody's fault. We all messed up on this one.” He turned to the girl. “Are you all right, Miss Starking?"

  "Yeah, I'm fine."

  "Trent.” Cruz had been moving around the clearing. “He picked up his rifle and knife."

  "I noticed. He must not have been hurt as much as I thought."

  "How could he do so much in so little time?” Cruz said.

  "We are not talking about an ordinary man, Chico."

  Katie had led the Starking girl over to the horses to rest. Walking back, she said, “Something interesting. The girl said, just before they got to this clearing Gunny mentioned they were close to his place. That might be where he went."

  Trent looked up the mountain. “Well now..."

  "We go after him now?” Cruz said.

  "Nope.” Trent cast a glance at the sky and the long shadows under the trees. “I am not going into the woods after Gunny in the dark. He would be laying for us for sure.” Walking back to his horse, Trent said, “Better make a fire and get some food in our bellies. After the meal, put the fire out. We will sleep in a cold camp tonight."

  "I've got two extra men here. I'd better send Miss Starking back with them.” Chico chuckled. “Maybe she can keep Starking from lynching us."

  Later, when they were away from Katie, Cruz asked, “Where do you think he will go? I bet he's long gone."

  "I don't think he'll go anywhere, Chico. I think he will stay right here and wait to see what we do. He can't chance an open fight, and he won't want to lead us to his camp.” Trent's gaze turned to the forest. “I'll go out tonight."

  "But, you said..."

  "I didn't want to worry Katherine."

  * * * *

  The moon had come and gone, leaving the campsite a jumble of dark shadows and phantom shapes. The night air assailed the senses, as Trent tried to penetrate the blackness. Every pore of his body tried to gather information his sight could not provide. There was very little breeze to feel, and the leaves of the trees hung limp in the fragrant night air. John Trent stood in the darkness, silently adjusting his knife and handgun. He would leave the SKS. This would be close work.

  He glanced toward Katie's bedroll, wishing he could run his hand through her hair, or kiss her one more time before he left. But he knew he could not. Silence was the key now. It was time to go and Gunny knew he would be coming. With a slight rustle in the grass, Trent faded into the forest.

  * * * *

  Dawn was an hour away and Trent had been completely around the campsite twice. He was beginning to have his first doubts. Maybe he'd guessed wrong and Gunny was long gone as Cruz thought.

  Kneeling by a giant boulder that afforded his back some protection, Trent stared into the darkness. His senses probed everything, analyzing every sound and smell in the night air. He had about given up when he felt it.

  There was a change in the darkness, subtle and soundless, a faint odor of sweat and leather. He moved his head, testing the faint breeze, trying to get some kind of direction from a sixth sense only the animals of the forest would understand. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and Trent's breathing became shallow and silent. Gunny.

  The night felt ominous. Trent carefully shifted his feet, and then froze as he inadvertently made a small scrunching sound. A blade swished through the darkness, hanging up on his buckskins before slicing into his leg.

  Trent immediately retaliated, lashing out with his other leg and feeling the satisfying thump as he connected. The two men came together, grunting and straining, both trying for a knee to the groin at the same time as they groped for the other's knife hand. Over-balanced by the action, they hit the ground rolling, with Trent slashing his knife across Gunny's chest. Suddenly Gunny was up and gone, leaving Trent crouched in the weeds, breathing heavily, nearly deaf to the night sounds from the pounding in his ears. Trent took a deep, silent breath, forcing his breathing to slow down.

  He had not heard Gunny coming and did not hear him leave. Trent shifted his position, pulling a long piece of cloth from his pouch. Knotting it tightly around the cut on his leg, his hand slipped on the bloody cloth and hit a bush next to him.

  A stab of flame exploded in the darkness and a three-round burst plowed through the bushes. Gunny had fired at the first sound he heard. Trent rolled from his position and down into a run-off ditch, lined with tree roots and rocks. There was a burning across his left forearm from one of the bullets. As soon as his feet hit the rocks, another burst went over his head into the trees. Trent palmed his gun, but held his fire, temporarily blind from the muzzle flashes in the darkness.

  "Trent?” Gunny's voice carried softly in the night. “You better leave, boy. You can't beat me out here."

  Trent did not reply. Taking a ball of string from his pouch, he tied one end to a small rock. Leaning another rock against this one, he started moving softly around to his right, trailing the string behind him. Maybe. Just maybe.

  "Not talking, Trent?"

  Trent pulled the string hard. The tumbling rocks made a sharp click in the night and Gunny instantly fired. Trent palmed his gun and fired into the muzzle flash of Gunny's rifle. The muzzle of the gun flew up in the air, spitting flame into the night sky. Seconds later, Trent was there, but Gunny was gone. Picking up Gunny's rifle, Trent melted back into the forest to wait for dawn.

  * * * *

  Katie was stalking around the small fire Cruz had started. He had warned her to stay back from the fire, just in case, but she paid little heed.

  "We should go out and help, Chico. We have to do something."

  "Where would we go?” Chico asked.

  In the distance, they heard the clattering sound of an AK-47, with three spaced shots following close behind.

  Chico Cruz stood with his head cocked to the side, listening intently. “We'll go out when it's light, Katie. Right now, Trent only has to worry about himself. If we went out now, it would be a disadvantage for him."

  "Daybreak then,” Katie relented. “Is that coffee ever going to be ready?” She looked up, startled as someone limped into camp. “Cruz! Look out!"

  * * * *

&
nbsp; Gunny stood on high ground, his stocky body easily taking the weight of the tall, blond-headed woman. It had been so easy. After all, they were not really woodsmen. They had thought he was Trent coming back to the camp. Now he had the girl. Now the man would have to come. The Watcher's interest was peaked when far below he saw the man come into the camp. It brought back another memory of seeing Trent come into another clearing long ago. Difference was ... now he had Trent's woman.

  * * * *

  Trent stood at the edge of the small clearing, fighting the impulse to run headlong into the camp. A small amount of smoke was rising from under the steaming coffeepot. His SKS was still leaning against his pack and other gear. Lying next to the fire was Chico, appearing at first glance to be asleep—except for the red stain on the earth under his head. Trent still did not move. Silently he stood in the shadows, eyes probing every possible hiding place around the perimeter of the glade. Finally, he stepped into the clearing, reading the story in the scuffled dirt around the fire. Katie was gone.

  "Gunnyyyyyyy!” Trent's voice rocked the mountainside. Anger and frustration tore from his vocal chords in primeval sound, lashing its way up the mountainside toward his foe. “I'm coming for you!"

  A small sound brought him back from his rage. Chico was struggling to sit up. Trent turned and knelt beside him.

  "Dammit, Chico. What happened?"

  Chico Cruz looked groggily around. Suddenly, his eyes cleared and he tried to lunge to his feet. “He was here. We thought it was you coming back. He just walked right into camp. Katie yelled a warning at me. That's the last I remember.” He looked around the camp. “My God ... Katie!"

  Trent tied a bandage around the cut on his leg. “He has her. She's gone."

  "Then you must hurry. Catch him before he—"

  "Not this time."

  Chico looked at him as if he was crazy.

  "He wants to draw me up the mountain. It is between him and me. Katherine is the bait. He will not kill the bait. At least, not now."

  Chico started down a trail of self-loathing. “Once again, I have failed you..."