by J. T. Edson
‘We’d best go down and take a look,’ Mark said.
‘Could be trap,’ Tejas warned.
‘Stay here with Winnie and cover me, then,’ ordered Mark. ‘I’ll ride in like I don’t expect any trouble.’
Leaving the girl and Indian, Mark started down the slope. While he rode as if completely unaware of the possibility of danger, he stayed alert and watched the small cabin’s front. Lying at the rear of the burned-out buildings, the cabin had one door and window in the front. At its rear, some thirty feet behind, rose the other side of the valley in a sheer wall.
Every instinct Mark possessed warned him that somebody other than his two companions watched him. Try as he might, he could not locate the watchers. Knowing he could trust the stallion, he fastened his reins to the saddlehorn and let them hang. That left his hands free and he used knee pressure to guide the horse while taking out his makings to roll a smoke.
The door of the cabin opened as Mark reached the foot of the slope. He brought the horse to a halt some thirty yards from the building and studied the two men who came out. They wore range clothes, looked a couple of hard cases, but he did not recognize either of them. Noting the wolf-cautious manner in which they darted glances at the valley sides, he guessed they might have had Indian trouble.
‘Howdy,’ greeted the taller of the pair. ‘You alone?’
‘You could say that,’ Mark agreed. ‘What's up?’
‘Injuns run off our hosses last night,’ the shorter man replied. ‘You seen anything of ’em?’
‘Nary a sign,’ Mark drawled. ‘I've come down from Brady way. It’s been a mighty lonesome ride.’
‘Come ahead and rest your saddle,’ offered the taller hard case.
Something in the man’s attitude rang a warning alarm for Mark. It may have been the way he eyed the big stallion, or the fact that he did not look the sort to offer hospitality without expecting to see a return for his generosity. Left a-foot, faced with the possibility of more trouble with the Kaddos, a fast horse would be mighty tempting. However, Mark continued to act as before and gave no hint of his suspicions. He wanted to get closer before making a move.
Then Mark saw the rifle’s barrel poking through the loophole in the cabin’s wall. Almost imperceptibly he steered the horse so as to put the two men between him and the rifle. He doubted if the man in the cabin would cut loose until the other two were close enough to grab the stallion.
Suddenly the taller man jerked up his head and stared past Mark at the slope down which the blond giant rode.
‘Mark!’ yelled Winnie’s voice. ‘They’re two of the Wycliffe bunch!'
While the girl acted in good faith, she put Mark in one hell of a spot. On seeing him ride towards the men, she thought that he failed to grasp the danger of the situation. Before Tejas could stop her, she rose and ran into view of the two hard cases and shouted her warning.
At the first word Mark thrust himself sideways out of the saddle. Snarling a curse, the taller man grabbed for his gun and his companion followed his lead. Flame ripped from the rifle in the cabin and Mark heard the bullet split the air where his body had been an instant before. While falling, he fetched out his matched guns. Having been in a similar situation, the blood bay started to swing away from its master and loped off to one side.
When Mark struck the ground, he held a cocked Colt in each hand. The right-hand gun spat once, driving its bullet into the body of the taller hard case an instant before he cleared leather. At almost the same moment Tejas intervened from up the slope. Dirt flew between the shot man and his companion. Realizing that Mark had lied when claiming to be alone, the second man turned and sprinted for the cabin.
Close to where Mark landed, a bush offered concealment and some protection from the rifle in the cabin. He cut loose with a shot from either hand, driving the bullets at the loophole. Fast though he moved, his aim proved good. Splinters flew from the edge of the hole and the rifle jerked at the moment its user squeezed the trigger. Instead of coming at Mark, the bullet flew harmlessly into the air. Before the man could reload, Mark rolled behind the bush and wriggled to more satisfactory shelter at the rear of a rock.
Already the rifle slanted down into line again. Glass shattered and a Winchester appeared through the ruined window. Carefully Mark searched the front of the building and could see no other weapons. Then he turned to see what had happened to his companions. He found that Tejas had pulled the girl back into cover and lay behind a tree lining the Spencer at the cabin.
Satisfied that the other two were in no immediate danger, Mark gave thought to the problem of what to do next. He did not know which of the Wycliffe gang used the cabin, or how many of them, but aimed to find out. Another important point arose; all day they had seen signs of Indians and one of the parties might be within hearing distance. The sound of shooting would bring them like iron filings to a magnet. When that happened, Mark wanted to have the girl inside the cabin. Out in the open they stood no chance. Yet he knew the men in the building would not allow his party to enter.
Once again Mark studied the cabin and surrounding area. They would have to force an entrance and he sought for the means to do so without taking lead in the process. Twisting around, he signaled his intentions to Tejas and the Indian showed that he understood.
Mark’s horse stood some distance away, having come to a halt in a hollow and partially hidden from the men in the cabin. Wanting the horse, the Wycliffe men were unlikely to shoot it. However it stopped some distance from Mark’s position and to reach it meant crossing open ground. So he put aside thoughts of collecting the stallion and went into action on foot.
Thirteen – A Student of a Highland Pastime
Rising swiftly, Mark darted away from his horse in the direction of the next piece of cover. His move took the two men at the front of the cabin by surprise and the bullet which came from the window missed him by several feet. Up the slope Tejas’ Spencer cracked a reply, although he achieved nothing. Then Mark made another dash and landed safely behind a large rock. From there he progressed in dives, by running or crawling along on his belly, until he reached a point where neither rifle at the front of the building could line on him.
Unfortunately his intention of approaching from the windowless side of the cabin came to nothing. Before making the attempt, he studied the wall and noted it carried loopholes. At one hole a slight but significant movement caught his eye. Unless he missed his guess, a man waited there ready to throw down on him at his first unwary movement. That ruled out any chance of getting close to the building from his present position.
Thrusting himself from cover, Mark raced towards the rear slope. Confirmation of his suspicions came as a rifle’s muzzle stabbed through the loophole. Before its user could take aim, Mark dived once more into shelter. He landed where he could study the rear of the cabin. Some thirty feet separated it from the sheer slope and with nothing behind which even a jack-rabbit might hide to give cover during an attack on the rear.
‘Pegler’s done that on purpose,’ Mark told himself bitterly. ‘Maybe I’ll have better luck on the other side.’
With that he went up the slope, which, at that point rose at a gentler angle than behind the cabin. At the top he found that the thick woodland started again, although Pegler had been doing some timber cutting recently. Along the top, level with where the roof of the cabin showed, a tree trunk rested on two sawing-horses. Branches and roots had been cut off, leaving a straight log almost twenty foot long suspended between the two X-shaped frames.
Although Mark glanced at the log, he gave it no thought and moved along the edge of the cliff. Then he saw something black against the roof timbers. Alert for danger, his senses screamed a warning which caused him to leap backwards. Not a second too soon either. Flame spurted from the hole and a bullet sang, through the air where his body had been a moment before.
‘Damn him, that Pegler was one smart hombre,’ Mark growled. ‘That loophole in the roof’s a mighty sneaky
ace-in- the-hole.’
It seemed that the cabin offered good all round defense, yet the urgency of entering grew greater by the second. Swinging around, Mark studied the country behind him. He noted that it offered ideal cover for any hostile Kaddo bucks who might want to sneak up on him. So far he saw no hint of danger from that angle. True the woods seemed strangely quiet, but the shooting could account for that.
To study the woods Mark had to look across the sawing-horses and their burden. Then his eyes dropped to the log. It would be too short by almost ten feet to be pushed across to the cabin, even if doing so would achieve any purpose. However another possibility sprang to mind.
Back in the War, when he rode in Bushrod Sheldon’s cavalry, Mark’s company commander had been a Scottish major. Angus Farquharson, younger son of a noble house, retained his love of Scotland and introduced the men under him to a number of traditional Highland pastimes. Even then Mark had been very powerful and under Farquharson’s guidance became adept at one particular strength sport. Since joining the floating outfit he kept his hand in and won many a bet for the ranch with his skill at tossing the caber.
Walking across to the thicker end of the log, Mark tentatively lifted it and estimated the weight. Unless he missed his guess, the log weighed over two hunched pounds; heavier than he had yet tossed. Kicking the sawing-horse aside, he set the butt of the log on the ground. He then went to the other end and raised it until it stood on its end. Resting the weight on his shoulder, he bent down until he could get his hands underneath the butt. After making sure of the balance, he began to straighten up. The old knack had not deserted him. Taking the strain, he thrust himself forward in the wind-up run for the throw.
On the other slope Tejas and the girl watched without understanding just what use Mark hoped to make of the log. Then they saw, although neither could barely credit the evidence of their eyes. Sighting his Spencer, Tejas fired at the cabin. He guessed at the loophole in the roof and wanted to distract the occupants if possible.
Forward strode Mark, powerful legs driving his body and the burden it bore on. Then he gave a surging heave and propelled the log up into the air. It was a sight which would have gladdened Major Farquharson’s Scottish heart, the way the log turned over in the air. Out it sailed, over the edge of the slope to land on the roof of the cabin. While stoutly made, the roof had not been erected to stand up against the impact of some two hundred and twenty pounds of timber crashing down on it. Realizing his danger, Mark threw himself flat after making the magnificent caber toss. He could not see the result of his throw, but heard the creak of breaking wood as the ridgepole snapped and the roof caved in, followed by the scream of a man in pain.
A moment before, inside the cabin Evan Shever, fourth member of Wycliffe’s party in the Bigfoot Saloon, had turned from his place at the front. He looked to where the second hard case stood on a cupboard after firing at Mark. The cabin was of only one room and bare of furnishings, probably one of the reasons the Indians did not burn it when they had attacked and wiped out Pegler’s assistants: Shever had seen the charred bodies in the burned-out buildings on his arrival.
‘You get him?’ Shever had asked.
‘I don’t know. That big jasper's fast.’
‘Dib’s cashed out there. Damn Cousin Churn, why’d he have to leave us three here while he went out again?’
‘Like he said, he figured to round up the other boys and see if we could find where Pegler went for the silver,’ the hard case had answered. ‘If they hear the shooting, they’ll come running.’
Silence had fallen for a time and the hard case had watched the top of the slope. He had not seen Mark and had failed to notice the erection of the log. Suddenly a bullet had come through the window and sunk into the dirt floor. Wondering if the man on the slope could see him, the hard case had twisted around.
‘What’s he doing?’
‘I don’t kn—!’ Shever had begun.
At that point a terrific crash had sounded above them and the roof had caved in. The hard case had seen his danger a moment too late. Down came the roof timbers and log, pinning and crushing him under them. Letting out a scream of agony, he stared wildly across the cabin at Shever.
No help came from that source. Panic filled Shever as he saw the wreck of the roof and realized that he no longer had the backing of his two companions. Thoughts ripped through his head, working at a way to save himself. After the muscular effort required to hurl the log on to the cabin, Mark Counter ought to be so exhausted that he would be temporarily out of the game. That left the other man, armed with a Spencer carbine—not the most accurate weapon—unless Shever missed his guess. At that range Shever figured he could chance running the gauntlet of the other’s fire in an attempt to reach Mark’s blood bay.
Dropping the rifle, and ignoring his companion’s moans for help, Shever jerked open the cabin door. He sprang out, drawing his right hand Freeman revolver, and ran towards the horse. The Spencer boomed out and its bullet whapped through the air close to him but he never broke stride or bothered to shoot back.
Growling a cowhand curse, Tejas lay down his carbine. He had just fired his seventh shot and saw there would not be time to reload. Nor could he hope to make a hit at that range with his newly acquired Cooper revolvers. Telling the girl to keep down, he thrust himself out of cover and bounded forward.
Shever saw the Indian coming but still made no attempt to use his gun. Instead he concentrated on running as fast as he could to the horse. Holding the cocked revolver, he started down into the shallow hollow where the stallion stood. It showed no great concern at the man’s approach and he felt sure escape lay close at hand.
From along to the right of the valley a rifle crashed. Caught in the head by a bullet, Shever pitched forward. His revolver went off, its muzzle-blast singeing the horse’s hair and the lead slicing a graze on its rump. Even as the stallion screamed with pain and reared, Shever’s body collided with it. Blood and brains smeared the saddle as he slid to the ground and the stallion started running.
Bounding down the slope, Tejas heard the shot and twisted around. Two Kaddo braves knelt in sight behind bushes and three more came into view from various points of concealment. Smoke rose from the Springfield rifle cradled against one of the pair’s shoulder. The other lined a Sharps carbine at Tejas. Before the young Indian could make a move to save himself, flame licked from the Sharps’ barrel. He felt the shocking impact of the heavy bullet, spun around and fell to the ground. Badly wounded, he still tried to raise his revolver as the braves ran towards him. Halting, a buck whipped up and drew back his bow. The arrow flashed forward and completed the work the bullet began.
Up on the slope Winnie saw Tejas die and the Kaddo braves leaping towards him. So intent on counting coup and collecting loot were they that none gave the girl a thought. Unlike when she gave her warning to Mark, Winnie remained in hiding. She realized that showing herself would be asking for a painful death.
While young, poorly educated and filled with romantic notions, Winnie possessed a fair share of good Texas common sense. Being unarmed, she could do nothing for her companions. Instinctively she knew what Mark would want her to do. So she put aside any thoughts of staying around and slipped back. When sure that the braves could not see her, she rose and ran to the waiting horses. Unfastening the dun, she swung astride it and started it running.
At first the girl rode with the fear of pursuit filling her. Then the feeling left her and good sense caused her to draw rein. During the time she rode with Mark and Tejas, Winnie learned some lessons. So she found a place where she and the horse could hide before halting. Studying her back trail, she concluded that nobody followed her. Then she gave thought to what she should do for the best.
‘We come up river,’ she told herself. ‘So if I can find it and ride down, I ought to reach some settler’s place—if the Injuns don't get me first.’
With that the girl started the dun moving. She rode at a trot, scanning the count
ry ahead of her regularly and often turning to look back along her tracks. Seeing birds rising from the trees ahead of her, she decided to take cover until finding what had alarmed them. Hiding among some bushes, she retained sufficient presence of mind to keep the dun quiet. That proved fortunate for a party of Kaddo braves rode by, heading towards the trading post. Watching them go, she saw puffs of smoke rise into the air. However she lacked the skill to know that the smoke signals originated from some place beyond the post.
Although the Indians rode straight by, Winnie did not offer to leave her hiding place for almost an hour. Deciding at last that she could ride on in safety, she started the dun moving in what she hoped would be the right direction. Time passed, although she had no way of judging it in hours and minutes, until an uneasy feeling came to her. Slowly she began to wonder if she had picked the right direction, she wondered if the Pedernales River did lie ahead of her.
Coming to a small stream, she halted the horse and allowed it to drink. As she slipped from the saddle, her eyes went to the water. For a moment the significance of what she saw did not sink in. Then she realized that the steam flowed in the opposite direction to which she had been riding. Her instincts told her that the stream join the Pedernales and she must retrace her route. By following the stream, she would find the river.
By that time the sun hung low in the western sky. No child, even a girl, grew up on a small spread in frontier-Texas without learning how to live off the country. So the desire to survive forced Winnie to look for food. She gathered edible fruit and nuts while looking for a safe place to spend the night. They would fill her stomach and keep her going until she could find more appetizing food.
Finding a small valley close to the stream, she prepared to spend the night in it. First she cared for the horse, off-saddling it and making sure that she fastened it securely to a small tree. The dun offered her only small chance of survival and she did not dare take the chance of being left a-foot. Although the Kaddos had taken Sandel’s bedroll as part of their loot. Mark had fastened the blanket Winnie used to the dun’s saddle. So she could make use of it to give some protection and warmth during the night.
