by Neil Hunter
Trailing them was easier than I’d expected. There were few ways a horse could go in this mass of jagged rock and I found this out in the first few minutes. I realized that I’d done the best thing leaving mine behind.
Though there was mostly rock, there was also a lot of dust and snow that still lay in shaded places. Pike and Reever had had no time to erase any of their tracks as they went along. They had tried to keep to the hard rock as much as possible but they couldn’t manage it all the time, and I kept coming across their tracks.
After about half an hour I paused in the shade of a high boulder. I was hot and sweaty. I could have done with a full canteen of water right then. My head was still hurting from the bang I’d given it. I sleeved my damp face and studied the way ahead.
For a while I’d noticed that the lay of the land showed a steady rise. It had been gradual at first but now the rise was noticeable, and I could see that some half-mile ahead the rim of this rock-bed was sharply and starkly outlined against the blue of the sky. Most probably the land fell away beyond that rim, perhaps giving way to easier terrain. If Pike and Reever got to that rim and onto smoother ground I might find myself left behind. Once they could get into their saddles again I would soon find myself on my own.
I pushed myself away from the boulder and set off again. I kept my pace up, knowing that while I was in the open so much I was offering myself up as an easy target. But I had no time for too much caution. If I inched my way through the shadows. Pike and Reever could be up and away — and Judith with them.
I came around a great outcropping of gray stone and almost took my last step on earth. Inches away from the tips of my boots the land just fell away in an almost sheer drop. It went down for two, maybe three hundred feet, a long slope of loose shale and some larger chunks of rock. After the drop it leveled out a little then fell away again. It looked a long way down and a rough landing. I turned back the way I had come, searching for a way through, and after a minute I found it. On my left was a fairly wide gap in the pile of close-tumbled rock.
As I was easing my way along I saw tracks in the dust at my feet. I was in a long, narrow tunnel formed by leaning rocks. I travelled some three hundred yards before I came out into the open again. As I stepped into the bright light I heard a horse snort. I sought the place where the sound had come from.
And then I saw them.
Maybe twenty yards lay between us. Ollie Reever was bent over one of the horses. The animal lay on its side, one leg bent at an odd angle. I guessed that the animal had stepped in a hole, breaking its leg.
To one side stood Will Pike, holding the reins of the other horses. And Judith was by his side.
A gun cracked suddenly. The downed horse convulsed once then went still. Ollie Reever straightened up, a smoking gun in his fist. Another second and he would be looking straight at me. The time for cat and mouse was over, I realized.
‘Judith, get down,’ I yelled. I shouted hard and loud, hoping that she would respond, would react fast, for there was no time left for hesitation now.
Her head came round at the sound of my voice. That was all. Then she was down on the ground.
Ollie Reever saw me too. He jerked upright, his mouth wide open. And that was the way he died. I put two bullets into him where he stood and he went over backwards. He twisted over onto his stomach and didn’t move again.
The moment I’d fired I moved off to my left, levering my rifle as I went. Will Pike had me spotted and his gun came out. He fired, fired again. I was moving too fast though and both bullets missed me. But I knew I couldn’t go on dodging them for long.
Pike made no attempt to go near Judith. I figured that he wanted this to be a straight shootout between the two of us. He had a reputation to back him. He must have imagined it gave him an edge. I didn’t let it worry me. I’d killed a few men myself and I figured it was a man’s past that mattered. Pike had killed for money, or to steal another man’s property, or because he simply didn’t like a man. My killing had come about through the actions of men like Pike, men who had wanted to take what was mine, or who wanted me dead because I’d got in their way. I’d killed to survive, nothing more. Pike killed because it was his way of life, his occupation. The trouble with that kind of attitude is that a man can get so convinced he’s top-dog, so good, he becomes cocky, casual, though not necessarily careless. Pike would figure me to be good, but not in his class. He figured he could take me.
‘Tyler,’ he said, ‘I’ve lost some good friends of late.’
I watched him closely. We were not too far apart. Pike was holding his gun at his side, the muzzle down. He appeared calm and relaxed.
‘You hear me?’
‘You want me to say I’m sorry?’
‘I just want you to know I’m paying you for all of them,’ he said. ‘But I want to make it fair for you. I’ll give you an even chance. I’ll put my gun away. You can draw when you’re ready.’ I didn’t answer. ‘A fair deal?’
There was a faint smile on his lips. He lifted his gun and slid it into his holster. His fingers began to slide away from the butt.
That was when I swung up my rifle and put a bullet into him. It knocked him staggering back. Surprise was etched across his face. His hat flew off. Before it touched the ground I’d put three more bullets into him. The impact spun him round and his gun hand jerked his gun free of the holster. It flew from his fingers and bounced on the hard rock.
Pike tried to regain his balance but his strength was going fast. He crashed down on his face, his slim body arching violently. He shoved to his feet again, turning to face me. He was bloody from the waist up, his face streaked and red. For a moment he stood motionless, then he fell off to one side, landing heavily.
I went over to where his gun lay, picked it up. I tossed it far away. Pike lay watching me. His mouth was slack, wet with blood, but his eyes were hard, still hating.
‘You bastard,’ he said. ‘I had you figured wrong. I took you for a square-dealer. I was wrong. You gut-shot me like a man shooting a rat.’
‘That’s what I was doing. You did the one thing that marked you dead the moment you thought of it.’
He lifted his head. ‘What?’
‘You took that girl with you. Put her life in danger. When you did that you lost any chance for fair play.’
He stared at me hard. ‘By God, I figure you’d’ve backshot me if you’d had to.’
‘I would have,’ I said, and turned away, making my way over to where Judith was now standing.
She looked tired and maybe a little scared. She’d had right to be. Her hair was loose, a faint breeze stroking it across her face. Her face was streaked and pale. The dress she wore was soiled, a little torn. But she was alive and unhurt.
I had to tell her that her father was dead but that could wait for awhile.
She’d gone through a lot. For the moment the only thing that mattered was that she was all right.
I went to her, put my arms around her, felt the trembling pressure of her body against mine.
‘Oh, Brig,’ she whispered softly.
‘I’ve come to take you home,’ I said.
I went to get the horses a few minutes later. As I led them back to where Judith waited I passed the place where Will Pike lay. He was on his back, his face turned towards the bright sun, his eyes wide, staring, unseeing.
I put Judith up on one of the horses, took the reins and turned away from that high, silent place of violence and death.
‘Let’s go home, Judith,’ I said, and we moved off, neither of us looking back.
Chapter Twenty
The winter in that Colorado high country was long and hard. When the snows came again it was for the duration. There was little anyone could do in that sort of weather. Hope and Tarrant became practically snowbound. Little got in or out. Travel became difficult. But the winter had to end soon and one day it suddenly became obvious that spring was on the way.
As the snows thawed the land began to show its
greenery. The cold days gave way to gentle spring warmth. It was the beginning of a new cycle and it meant that there were chances for fresh starts.
In early spring I took another herd into Hope. Meat had again been scarce and the herd was greeted wildly. While I was in town I went to see Seth. He had spent the winter in Hope as its first lawman and by the news that had got out to us he had been making himself a strong reputation.
He had a lot to tell me and I had much to tell him. Judith and I had been married just before Christmas. She had taken the death of her father well, and after a time of mourning, during which she had lived with friends in Tarrant, we had been married. We moved to the ranch. Judith had insisted on this. It would have been what William Thorpe would have wanted, she said. We had had a busy time, a happy time. I was as content as any man could be. I had a good home, a wife, a crew of men no man could better, and I had a future as secure as any future could be.
And now I had more to be glad about, for just before the drive to Hope, Judith had told me that she was pregnant.
Much had happened since that day when I had first ridden into Hope. It seemed that there was more ahead. There would be good and bad, for this wild land and the people in it were by no means tamed yet. But we were strong enough to face it, I knew that. What we had gone through had given us the strength to face anything that came our way. Our roots were already well set, we had spilt sweat and blood over this land and we would not give up the fight to survive.
Some things had changed. Jacob had gone. Restless and yearning for new pastures, he had saddled up and had said his good-byes. It had been hard losing him but he was bound to go. We had got a couple of letters from him, the last one from a little border town in New Mexico. Jacob had a lot of the roving spirit in him. Maybe one day he would settle down. I knew that someday he would come and see us. He would ride in and it would be like he’d never been away. But for now we had to be content with the occasional letter. Sachs had left us too. The peaceful life, he said, was aging him fast. He had bought himself a mule and some supplies and had taken off into the hills.
I knew that when he tired of his own company he would make his way back. He knew that he would always be welcome.
Other things had changed far more permanently. A white stone marker just beyond the house showed where Judith’s father lay. He would not come back. Nor would Joel Welcome in his shaded grave close by where the mine had been. The mine was finished with now, deserted, but just beyond Joel’s resting place was a regular trail that led in from Tarrant down into Hope. A daily stage had started running and the trail was well established. It even had a name — The Welcome Trail.
Hope itself was becoming almost respectable. More and more families were moving in and the rough element had almost ceased to exist. There were still saloons and gambling halls. But now there was a church as well. There was a school and talk of sending for a full-time teacher.
I had my visit with Seth and got the promise of a visit from him. He hadn’t been to the ranch for some time but I knew that my news about Judith would get him there.
I climbed into the saddle and rode along the street. Joe Crown and Lew Riley had helped me push the herd into Hope and now they were staying over for the day. Swede and Bill Ward were back at the ranch, so Judith was being well looked after, but I wanted to be back there with her.
I put my horse up the trail and settled easily in the saddle. The sun was warm on me as I rode, the air fresh and spring-cool. My horse arched his neck and I could feel his need to run so I gave him his head and he gave a shrill of pleasure as he stepped off into a steady lope.
Like me he wanted to be home.
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