Final Stand: Last Ditch (Mountain Man Book 5)

by Nathan Jones

  Some risks were better left untaken.

  He watched the last flashes of motion disappear into the gully as full dark fell, whatever camp they were setting up not including even a hint of a campfire or other light that might give away their presence. That further indication of the enemy's competence left Skyler frowning as he tried to decide what to do next.

  Common sense told him he didn't want anything to do with this particular group, and he was only going to regret sticking around. At the same time, these soldiers were a cut above the others he'd seen, and he was confident that whatever their business in these mountains was, he wanted to make it harder for them. Before they made it harder for people he cared about.

  In fact, Skyler had to consider the very real possibility that a group like this might actually be able to slip past Gray's defenses and find Camptown.

  Over his dead body. No matter how dangerous these bloodies were, they were on his turf. He wasn't going walk away and give them a chance to go after his mom or Molly when he could do anything about it.

  So he retrieved Sulky, then sought out his own campsite where he could keep an eye on the gully once it got light enough.

  * * * * *

  Brandon would have to call the rain that fell in the night a mixed blessing.

  It was a genuine high mountain torrent, the sort that dropped buckets for an hour or so before giving way to the patter of dripping leaves. It didn't do any favors for the wounded, and if the downpour hadn't already made for a sleepless night then the frantic scramble to keep wounds dry and clean would've.

  On the other hand, he could hope that the rain had washed away their scent and stymied any dogs trying to follow them. Ditto for their tracks. And he doubted any bloodies would've pushed through the night hunting for them in those conditions.

  It meant that they had a reprieve, a chance to properly rest and care for the wounded for a few hours or even a day. Especially with Jonas and his fighters there to watch for any approaching groups of bloodies. Brandon was more than happy to take advantage of that time, as were the exhausted and desperate people he led.

  As bad as the ambush by those Sangue squads had seemed, it turned out that the enemy had only killed twenty-six of them and wounded thirty or so more, with several touch and go on making it through the night. Two of Gray's fighters had also died in the fighting, and four more were wounded, one seriously.

  A horrific tragedy, and one that would continue to haunt him, but without Gray's heroic charge those losses would've been pretty much everyone.

  After discussing things with Jonas and his volunteers, they agreed to rest through the night, then in the morning let the Camptown fighters go out and scout. If Sangue stayed away, they'd spend the morning giving the wounded more thorough care, organizing, and preparing for the final push to Camptown.

  Brandon wanted nothing more than to head straight to the bowl valley, for the sake of the wounded. But even in these desperate circumstances, he had to prioritize keeping their homes and families hidden from the enemy. That meant a more cautious route, one that would add hours, if not longer, to the trip.

  Carl and the other leaders among the freed slaves weren't particularly happy about that, insisting that the lives of dozens of wounded had to take priority over secrecy at this point. Especially since the majority of the group was now wounded in some way, to say nothing of at the end of their strength, and a few extra hours would be a tremendous hardship.

  Even if Brandon had been inclined to budge, which he wasn't, Jonas didn't hesitate a second to lay down the law. “We make sure nobody can follow us to Camptown, or we don't approach at all,” he said flatly.

  Zack, who'd somehow managed to weasel into the discussion, spoke up angrily at that. “So what, you'd leave us to wander these mountains until we starve to death or the bloodies find us? We're only in this situation in the first place because of you.”

  “The situation of being free from captivity and headed to a place of refuge that's willing to welcome you with open arms?” the militia lieutenant said dryly. “You have my sincerest apologies.”

  “Less than a third of the slaves who started out in the camp are still alive!” Zack snarled.

  Jonas sucked in a harsh breath. “And Gray Tucker, the greatest man I've ever known, died to protect you, along with two more of my fighters. And we're prepared to engage any Sangue who come close enough to discovering you, to make sure you reach Camptown without any further trouble. Show some gratitude.”

  Carl spoke up mildly. “I'm very grateful, sir. We all are. And I recognize you've got a whole valley full of people you have a duty to keep safe and hidden. I respect that. I just hope you can find a . . . balance between caution and speed, for the sake of those who're in a bad way.”

  “This whole conversation seems based on the assumption that I wasn't going to,” the militia fighter snapped. Brandon saw his silhouette move away in the darkness, voice drifting back to them. “You want to stick around for some needed rest? Fine, rest. We'll take care of making sure you're safe until you're ready to move again.”

  * * * * *

  By the time it was light enough to see, the Sangue camp Skyler had been keeping an eye on was deserted.

  It wasn't that the bloodies had stolen a march on him, either. He would've had to go down there and check the tracks to be sure they hadn't just gotten an early start, but something about that empty patch of ground in the secluded gully made the hackles rise on the back of his neck.

  It reminded him of the time he and Trapper had been tracking a cougar a couple years ago. The big cat had gotten uncomfortably close to the ranch valley, and was sticking around in a way that made the mountain man worry that it might have its eye on some of the newborn calves or kids or foals. Or, far more frightening, the Hendricksons' toddler boy, Bryant.

  To make a long story short, he and Trapper had followed the tracks as the cougar prowled along the ridge overlooking the valley. As they'd gotten close to catching up to it, his adoptive dad had warned him back and gone on alone, not willing to put him at risk.

  Unfortunately, what not even the mountain man had realized was that the cougar had caged to being followed. While they were busy stalking it, it had circled back around and begun stalking them in turn.

  When Trapper left him alone, Skyler had become a tempting target for one of the scariest predators in Central Utah.

  He still remembered that horrifying moment when some warning prickle on the back of his neck had made him turn, only to see the cougar crouching in the underbrush ten feet away, preparing to leap for him. Even in perfect stillness, the sheer size and power of the big cat, all lean muscle and feline grace, had served as a reminder of just how comparatively slow, weak, and frail humans were. Not to mention having ludicrously dull senses, as was evidenced by his situation.

  Thankfully, the one thing that had put humans at the top of the food chain was their mind, and Trapper had been using his that day. The moment he'd seen the cougar's tracks begin to loop around he'd immediately turned and backtracked, practically sprinting to where Skyler waited.

  Skyler had been watching the predator tamping its paws to pounce when his adoptive dad's bullet took it in the neck, just behind the head. If Trapper had shot just a second later, while the cougar was in midair, it might've seriously injured Skyler on impact even if the bullet had flown true.

  And now, looking down at that empty camp, Skyler felt that prickling sensation again. He was sure that if he turned he would see a big cat crouched in the bushes, tamping its paws to pounce.

  He'd come a long way since then, of course, and was confident no creature on two legs or four could get that close to him without him sensing it coming. But that didn't stop him from slowly fading back into a more hidden position, then lifting his rifle to begin searching the surrounding mountainsides through the scope.

  It took a while, especially in the varying shades of black of early dawn. At first Skyler could almost fool himself into believing that
the various suspicious silhouettes dotting the far slope, ridge, and the visible areas of the mountainside he was on were all just his overactive imagination. But when he waited long enough, still and silent in his own hiding place, he finally began seeing hints of movement from them.

  Just slight motions, shifting to more comfortable positions or seeking out better cover or vantages with more visibility. But more than enough to know that the game was up.

  Skyler lowered his rifle, heart thudding in an almost uncontrollable fight or flight response.

  These bloodies weren't as good as him. Not by a long shot. But they were better by far than most others he'd run up against, good enough to make him sick to his stomach at the thought that they had him twenty to one and had spent the night setting up on him.

  He needed to get out of there.

  But he couldn't panic and be stupid about it. That would just make Sangue's job easier. Which was why he carefully turned and thoroughly inspected the area immediately around him, at least as well as he could through the trees. He also checked along the path he'd be using to get out of here, making sure he wouldn't be running into any unpleasant surprises.

  There was no way to be sure things were safe, and that bothered him. But as far as he could see there were no soldiers skulking closer than four or five hundred yards.

  Not an impossible shot, especially considering the caliber of enemy he was facing. But the dim lighting would help, which brought him back to his initial conclusion: he needed to get out of there, immediately.

  Skyler eased back from his perch, taking more care than usual, which was saying something. He made for the thicket where he'd hidden Sulky, who'd thankfully remained quiet all this time, at least as far as he knew. He'd left her saddled in case he needed to move in a hurry, although he hadn't considered the situation might be this dangerous, and quietly thanked himself for thinking ahead as he untied her reins from a tree trunk and led her on foot to open ground.

  That put him on a deer trail that made its way along the slope he was on. He needed to go south on it, not north like he'd originally planned, because that would take him directly into the arms of his hidden enemies; he just had to hope going south wouldn't do the same.

  He faced a similar conundrum when it came to whether to mount up and ride, especially if he wanted to urge his horse to the highest possible speed.

  It was a gamble. He'd have an easier time sneaking away if he led Sulky on foot. But if the enemy had him dead to rights, which it sure looked like they did, then sneaking was pointless and he needed speed. Better to try to break free of whatever trap they'd surrounded him in, then use the speed advantage of his horse to put these terrifying enemies in his dust.

  Whatever they where up to, Skyler could hope Trapper and Gray were up to handling them. He sure wasn't, at least not on his own.

  He hadn't gone more than ten yards along the trail before the distant crack of gunfire made him jump. Sulky, already skittish from sensing his tenseness, snorted and broke into a run. Within seconds the first shooter was joined by half a dozen more, so rather than trying to stop his mount Skyler ducked low over her neck and urged her on.

  Looked as if he was going with getting out of there as fast as possible.

  At first it seemed like his plan was working. He heard the cracks of distant rifles seeming to come from all directions, either because the bloodies really had surrounded him or because gunshots were echoing off the mountain slopes, but didn't see or hear any indication that the shots were coming anywhere near him.

  So he urged Sulky to even greater speed, trying to get her to weave to make them a more difficult target. That was a tall order while following a meager deer trail on a steep mountain slope, and the mare really didn't want to cooperate with his efforts. So eventually he just gave up and hoped that letting her run at her fastest speed would make her a harder target than his feeble attempts to zigzag.

  He hoped in vain.

  Halfway across a short stretch of open ground between stands of trees, Sulky suddenly jerked violently and screamed, the sound of a mortally wounded animal, then began to collapse beneath him. Skyler desperately kicked free of one stirrup, throwing himself from the saddle into a roll. His rifle dug painfully into his side as he struggled to keep hold of it through his wild tumble, but thankfully he didn't lose it.

  He forced himself back to his feet and scuttled over to his fallen mount, who was thrashing weakly. Part of him was sunk in grief over losing another horse, losing Sulky. Even though they hadn't spent long together, they'd been through a lot in the time they'd had. He owed her his life on more than one occasion.

  “I'm sorry, girl,” he whispered, blinking away a burning in his eyes. “I shouldn't have dragged you into this.”

  But that was all the time he had for sentimentality as he forced himself to move slowly and smoothly to untie his saddlebags, which contained supplies he desperately needed. He knew this was a gamble, and that another bullet could be coming for him any second. But he'd tried to guess which direction the shot had come from and was putting Sulky's bulk between him and the shooter. He could also assume that since the soldier had hit his horse, the shot had come from far enough away that the man had been less confident about hitting a smaller moving target in the saddle.

  Confident or not, though, if Skyler stayed a sitting duck practically begging for it the soldier would take more shots. So the moment he had his saddlebags, he turned and bolted away, slowing only enough to weave behind cover to make himself a more difficult target.

  Not a moment too soon; behind him he heard the sickening thumps of bullets hitting flesh, then the whine of them passing close to him and thudding into trees and the ground all around him. Along with the gunshots came piercing howls, eager and predatory. He also heard shouts, so faint at this distance that it took him a while to make them out over the noise of his own running.

  “Lobo! Lobooo!”

  Skyler was annoyed to realize that the cacophony had made him run faster, more recklessly, in spite of himself. He grit his teeth and clutched his rifle tighter, forcing himself to calm down, to breathe, to think.

  So, these jokers fancied themselves wolves and he was the frightened rabbit, huh? They'd see about that.

  Assuming he made like a good rabbit and hared safely away from his pursuers.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Found

  Tom knelt beside Sulky's corpse, ignoring the flies swarming the clearing as he did his best not to throw up.

  This couldn't mean what it looked like. He could see Skyler's tracks moving away from the fallen mare, and having a horse shot out from under him wouldn't be as much of a disaster for his son as it would be for most; like Tom, the kid knew how to move quickly through the mountains, and could keep up a strong pace that would leave his enemies in the dust pretty much indefinitely.

  Assuming he got away first.

  Part of Tom dreaded following Skyler's trail, afraid of what he'd find at the end of it. But the bigger part of him refused to believe his son was hurt, even in this situation. And if nothing else, this was the first sign he'd seen of the kid in weeks, and he sure as the blazes wasn't giving up the hunt now.

  To start with, though, he had to check Sulky's corpse for any useful hints. First and foremost, Skyler had had time to remove the saddlebags before running, which meant he wasn't trying to escape from the men hunting him with nothing but his weapons and the clothes on his back.

  Tom's examination didn't turn up much of anything useful. The bullet, as far as he could tell from his hunting experience, had been shot from long range, suggesting that his son probably hadn't been in immediate danger when he got away. The horse appeared to have been healthy and well fed, suggesting that Skyler hadn't been in trouble and fleeing for his life before Sulky was shot, or if so not for long.

  The tracks also confirmed that Skyler had run across the squad of Sangue that ended up hunting him, rather than having tracked them to that location. He'd also only stalked th
em for a short time, probably overnight, before Sulky was shot out from under him.

  Once Tom was satisfied he'd gotten as much as he could from the clearing, he gratefully fled back to where Horse waited, mounting up and starting him following the kid's tracks.

  The sight of the dead mare had been a chilling reminder of just how real this all was. Before now it had been easy to imagine that Skyler was riding around in these mountains avoiding trouble, as if he was just on a nice long jaunt.

  Which was an absurd bit of fiction on Tom's part, considering what he knew of how his son had cheerfully thrown himself into danger before. Not to mention what Brady had told him about all that Lobo stuff he'd overheard on the radio from Sangue.

  But even when he'd allowed himself to admit the peril Skyler had to be in, he'd refused to believe that the kid could ever end up in any situation he couldn't handle. Especially considering that Tom's own skirmishing attempts against the enemy had been more or less completely successful, with no problems disengaging to continue his search for his son.

  Then again, it didn't take long following Skyler's tracks, and after ten minutes or so running across more from the bloodies chasing him, to come to the realization that these particular soldiers were cut from a different cloth than others Tom had encountered.

  All signs pointed to them being terrifyingly competent; he wouldn't have wanted to go against them himself, and he sure as the blazes didn't want them anywhere near his son.

  Even worse, they were traveling fast; these tracks were over a day old, probably closer to 36 hours, which meant even with a horse he'd have to push hard to catch up. And the sooner the better. He just hoped they hadn't left any surprises behind in case someone followed them, because he didn't have time to be careful if he wanted to reach Skyler in time.

  If it wasn't already too late.

  He urged Horse into the fastest long-distance pace the stallion could manage. That was fast, but he had a huge lead to close. “You've been as good a mount as your namesake ever was,” he said quietly, just loud enough for Horse's ears to flick back attentively. “The best friend a man in these mountains could hope for. Push hard, and keep up your strength.”