Now the old man startled them: ‘We’re sittin’ ducks up here an’ we been spotted.’
That sat them all up with a start.
‘Who by?’ Salome demanded.
‘There’s at least one feller on the ridge behind us,’ Mart retorted. ‘An’ don’t go a-lookin’ for him. Act natural. We’ll lose him.’
‘Maybe there’s more than one of ’em,’ Doke said.
‘That’s likely,’ Mart agreed. ‘Best give me an’ Doke a gun each. Who knows this won’t come to a fight?’
Salome said: ‘No guns, Mart. Not yet awhile, any road.’
The old man rose slowly and started down the ridge, saying back over his shoulder: ‘You follow me close now.’ They all rose and trod in his footsteps, going down the steep face of the ridge.
Five minutes later, Mart halted in the lee of a massive boulder.
He said: ‘You give me one of them Winchesters, girls, an’ I’ll git that varmint up there off’n our tails.’
Salome said quickly before Roxanne could agree: ‘Not a chance. If anybody’s stoppin’ that son-of-a-bitch it’s me or Roxie.’
‘You or Roxie,’ mimicked the old man. Who you foolin’, child? You don’t even know where he’s at.’ He chuckled to himself. ‘No. There’s more ways of killin’ a cat than skinnin’ it. We’ll lose him some other way.’
This was the point when Doke started to feel acutely uneasy. As they moved on around the boulder and came to a shallow but fast-moving stream of water, he had the uncomfortable feeling that one of Lister’s men was right on their heels, breathing down their necks, ready to knock one of them over with a well-placed bullet any minute he wanted. The gold seemed to get heavier every pace he took. Mart led the way along the narrow bed of the stream and the water slowed them down considerably.
They had not covered a dozen paces in the water than Mart stepped out on the far side of the stream on to rock and led the way hurriedly across an open space and then plunged once more into the cover of thick green brush.
Five minutes later, Mart halted again. Turning to the other three, he said softly: ‘Take a rest, folks. Not a sound.’
They sat down, hemmed in by the close brush. The insects found them and buzzed around their heads. They sat swatting them, the sweat pouring from them. Doke wished to God he had a gun. He knew the two girls were handy with guns, but that was not the same as having one in his own hand He could use a drink right now.
He did not know how long they waited there. The heat finally got to him and he closed his eyes.
They jerked open and he was wide awake when he heard a familiar and startling sound. Somebody had worked the lever of a Winchester behind him. He saw the alarm in Salome’s eyes as she stared past him. He started to turn his head and a voice said hoarsely: ‘Freeze or you’re dead.’ If ever he had heard a man mean it, this one did. He looked at Mart and the old man looked sick. Maybe he was feeling that he was too old to be smart. This fellow with the Winchester had out-smarted him.
‘You, old man, you bring the gold over here and pile it at my feet.’
‘Sure,’ said Mart, almost with a whine. ‘Sure thing, mister. Just don’t point that goddam carbine at me. It could go off. You don’t want an old man’s life on your conscience, do you?’
‘Move.’
Mart heaved himself slowly to his feet. He hefted his gunny sack of Spanish coin and carried it with enormous effort, dropping it behind Doke who fought his curiosity to turn and see the man who covered them. The man said: ‘Step back, old man. You, girl, bring that sack over here. Keep your hands away from the gun.’
Doke watched Salome rise with the gunny sack in her hands. Her face showed utter defeat. She stopped right in front of Doke as the man said with sudden alarm: ‘Where’s Blade and the other girl?’
Doke thought: Blade and the other girl? Where the hell was Roxanne?
He heard another sound. It was like something cracking human bone. His head jerked around automatically. The stranger was above him, pitching forward with his face distorted. As Doke scrambled clear, he saw the knife in Salome’s hand. She had dropped the gold and it hit dirt with a jumble of clinks. He saw the knife go into the man to the hilt under the rib-cage. The man hit the ground on his face. His fingers clawed jerkily at the dirt. His legs spasmed violently and were still.
Mart said in soft awe: ‘Jesus!’
Doke saw Roxanne there with the Winchester in her hands and knew that she had clubbed the man down. Her face was white and shocked. Her shock was some kind of a relief to Doke. He looked at Salome. She too looked stunned by what she had done, but she collected herself quickly. She was made of iron, that one.
‘I reckon there’s another one around some place. Keep it quiet. We’ll move on out. Go ahead, Mart.’
For once, the old man didn’t have a thing to say. He collected his pack of gold and stood silently as Salome picked up the man’s Winchester.
Roxanne said in a voice that shook a little: ‘Doke, take his cartridges.’ Doke emptied the man’s pockets into his own. He found some biscuit there which he purloined. A moment later, they went on. Salome stayed behind. Roxanne kept them moving for another half-hour, then she called a halt. They were further down the same mountain stream. They stopped and drank the sweet water. Then they sat and waited. Doke was scared for Salome, waiting back there for the other man that Doke didn’t even know existed.
He knew the fellow was for real when they heard the crack of a distant rifle.
Doke said: ‘Maybe I should go back, Roxanne. Maybe he was smarter than Salome.’
Roxanne said coldly: ‘They don’t come any smarter’n Salome, Doke. You stay where you’re at.’
It was not long before they saw Salome picking her way through the rocks. Her face looked set and hard, but otherwise she did not show any emotion. She stopped and said to Mart: ‘Old man, how far are we from the road?’
‘An hour,’ he said, ‘an’ you’ll see ’er.’
‘Then we’ll see how damn smart Blade is at liftin’ horses.’
Out of loyalty, Doke said: ‘Smartest little old horse-thief in the business.’
Salome said: ‘Let’s go.’
They started tramping again for the Denver road.
Chapter Fifteen
One horse, thought Blade, just ain’t enough. Just the same he was mighty tempted to be satisfied with that. He rode along the tracks left by the riders and the horses and he had not made up his mind when suddenly he came on what he wanted.
There were two men with the horses and they were about as surprised to see Blade as he was to see them. If it had been at all possible for Blade to have turned around and hightailed out of there, he would no doubt have done so. But there was no chance at all, for one of the men with the horses was Harry Lister and he could have drawn and fired before Blade could have turned the horse he bestrode. It was a matter of draw and fire or run and die. Which was no choice at all.
The place was a canyon and a narrow one at that. Lister was standing facing Blade with the horses behind him. There was another man among the horses evidently tending to one of the animals’ hoofs. And, even in that brief moment of instant action, Blade told himself that, if he missed Lister, his shot would hit a horse.
So he did the next best thing. He swung the horse he was on abruptly to the left and, no sooner had he turned away from Lister, than he threw himself from the saddle.
As his butt parted from leather, he heard the gunman’s Colt roar its lethal note. He landed on his feet, took two running paces which brought him at an angle to Lister so he could shoot without putting the horses at risk, and hurled himself flat on the ground. When he hit dirt, his own gun was in his hand and his thumb had pulled the hammer back to full cock.
But he never fired the shot.
His astonished eyes saw Lister also on the ground, but without his gun in his hand. Blade lifted his gaze beyond Lister and saw the Indian. Then he realized that Lister was writhing in agony and holding hi
mself.
Blade climbed to his feet, his cocked gun still pointed at the gunman.
He asked: ‘What the hell did you do, Sam?’
The Indian smiled faintly. ‘I kicked him in the crotch,’ He took a couple of paces forward and picked up Lister’s gun to push it away in the top of his pants.
Blade put away his gun.
‘What happens now?’ he said.
Sam jerked his head towards the horses. ‘Take the horses,’ he said, ‘but leave me the grullo. That’s mine.’
‘I owe you my life,’ said Blade.
‘That’s proper,’ said the Delaware. ‘I owe you mine.’
‘Lister’ll kill you for this.’
The Indian said: ‘Not without a gun he won’t.’
‘How about your pay for scouting for him?’
The Indian shrugged. ‘He never paid me, any road.’
In a very faint and high pitched voice, his eyes not focused on anything but seeming to see something that fascinated him a long way off, Lister said: ‘I’ll kill you two bastards for this.’
Blade offered Sam his hand and the two men shook.
‘I’m beholden to you,’ Blade said.
‘It’s my pleasure,’ Sam said. He went and took up the line of his grullo horse. Then he nodded and said: ‘Luck. Halliday and a sidekick went after the girls and your pardner.’ He chuckled and added: ‘I reckon them two hell-cats can clean their ploughs for them.’
Blade smiled back and agreed: ‘I reckon.’ He stepped into the saddle and lifted a hand in farewell. ‘I don’t have to tell you to watch your back-trail.’
‘No,’ Sam said, ‘you don’t at that.’
Blade called to the horses and drove them ahead of him. He rode off feeling kind of let down, but he would not let it throw him. To be alive and with a lively bunch of horses ahead of him, riding to meet up with two beautiful girls—from where he was sitting, life didn’t look at all bad.
An hour or so later, he rode on to the Denver road and turned left along it. Four or five miles further on, he came on Doke Struther sitting beside the trail. Doke looked a little down in the mouth. Even the sight of Blade with the horses didn’t cheer him up.
Blade drew rein and said: ‘Cheer up, Doke, all’s well that ends well.’
Doke snarled: ‘How the hell can this be endin’ well when I have a gun pointed at my head?’
Blade grinned. ‘Well, it ain’t so bad when the gun’s held by a beautiful gal who’s crazy about you.’
Doke rose and led the way through the brush at the side of the trail. They came into a small clearing with the horses scattering ahead of them and there were the two girls waiting for them.
Neither of them, Blade noted, were holding their Winchesters.
A voice behind Blade said: ‘H’ist ’em, young Blade, or, by God, I blow your fool head off.’
Blade turned around with his hands up and saw old Mart Summers standing there holding a hog’s leg as big as a young cannon. The old man split his leather face in a broad grin.
‘Had a shootin’ iron hid away in my cave, didn’t I?’ he said. ‘Thinkin’ you could out-smart this ole fox. You must of been outa your minds.’
Salome said bitterly: ‘So the cunnin’ old bastard steals back his gold. Of all the sneaky...’
Roxanne said sadly: ‘A girl could really sit down and have a good cry.’
‘Can I lower my hands, Mart?’ Blade asked.
‘Shuck your gun real careful,’ Mart ordered, ‘an’ toss it this way.’
Blade did as he was told. He said: ‘Mart, if it wasn’t for these two girls, and Doke and me, you wouldn’t have got away alive. You certainly wouldn’t be standing here with a fortune in gold. So how about a small share out?’
‘Like hell there’ll be a share out,’ snorted the old man. ‘You tryin’ to tell me you’d of give me a share out, you two goddam vixens?’
‘Sure,’ said Salome with wonderful sincerity. ‘We’re just a couple of simple big-hearted country gals. I was only sayin’ to Roxie there a ways back We’ll give that nice Mr. Summers enough for him to live comfortable for the rest of his life.’
‘Yeah,’ said Mart, ‘an’ straightaway shoot me down like a yaller dawg.’
‘No, sir,’ said Roxanne with as much sincerity as shown by her cousin. ‘We truly meant it. You’re a nice kind old man and we’re grateful for all you did for us.’
‘At the point of a gun,’ said Mart.
‘Have a heart, Mart,’ said Doke.
‘I don’t have no heart,’ said Mart, ‘as the goddam Crow Injuns discovered half a century back. I have a flintstone plump in the middle of my chest.’
‘I can believe it,’ said Salome.
‘Well,’ said Doke, ‘what do we all do? Head for Denver?’
‘Why not?’ said Roxanne, ‘it’s as good a place as any to get a new stake.’
They drifted towards the horses.
Denver seemed to have grown and changed every time Blade saw it. In the past it had grown from being nothing more than a camp. At that stage, it had called itself a town. When it grew to fit that title, it called itself a city. That was how it had been always, brash and flamboyant, a town acting larger than life full of men acting larger than life. Men with gold came here not to live it up and take a drink or two. They came to see the elephant, to go on wild high lonesomes, to drink till they challenged all the world. Men did not quarrel and strike a blow for their pride, they drew guns or knives and slaughtered each other regardless. Law there was not too much of. Drunks were rolled and knifed for a poke of gold dust. A newspaper editor was riddled with bullets on the street plumb in front of his office for printing something the gunman did not like. Every now and then the committee of vigilance put out the word that the hangman’s noose would reign. Then the hard-cases and the bully boys would hurry out of town, heading for places where the pickings were easier and a man did not risk his neck for a dollar or two. A few hardier or more foolish members of the criminal fraternity would remain. Then the bridge would be festooned by a man or so hanging by their necks. For a while after that, men might be safe in dark alleys or drunk in a harlot’s room.
The hotel where Blade had stayed as a boy with his uncle was no longer there. In its place was an elegant brick building with a carpet in the lobby. Next door was a fine bank and it was here that Mart Summers headed with his gold. Blade and Doke helped him carry it inside, with the two girls protesting passionately.
Blade took them aside and told them: ‘Go into the hotel, girls, and clean up. You’ve lost the game. Reconcile yourselves to defeat. Like Doke and me, you’ll have to earn your living the hard way.’
Salome said: ‘Doke, boy, don’t you have no goddam feelin’s for me?’
Doke replied: ‘Sure, Sal. But I don’t have any gold of my own to go with it’
Roxanne said: ‘I can’t believe you don’t feel nothin’ for me, Joe darlin’.’
‘You’re quite right, Roxie,’ he said. ‘I feel a whole lot for you, but the romance of the trail and the high prairie is through and done with. Little girls have to grow up.’
They wept a little. Then Salome told them: ‘We’ll get even with you, you ungrateful bastards.’ They exited and Doke and Blade helped Mart cache his gold.
When they were through, Blade led Doke and Mart to the nearest saloon. It was a pretty grand place with a lot of shining oak, brass cuspidors and rows of brightly-labeled bottles that showed the wonderful selection of liquors offered. The place was large and it was full. The air was thick with cigar smoke, liquor fumes and loud talk. They elbowed their way to the bar. Blade looked at Doke and saw he had a funny look on his face. ‘Anything wrong, Doke?’ Blade asked.
Doke said: ‘You know what’s wrong, damn you. I suppose you brought me here to test me.’
‘Sure. And also to cut the dust from my throat.’
‘Do you reckon a beer would hurt me?’
‘Dam sure it wouldn’t,’ Blade replied. ‘Just so
long as you don’t get a hankering to chase it down with whiskey.’
Mart slammed a hand down on the bar.
‘Three beers,’ he said. He reached into his belt and drew two pistols which lay on the bar. ‘Help yourselves, boys. You earned ’em.’
Doke said: ‘No hard feelin’s, Mart?’
‘I’ll show you later,’ said Mart mysteriously. The beer came. They drank. Mart said: ‘All’s well that ends well.’
‘It ended all right for you, old timer,’ Blade said. ‘Where you headed now?’
‘I’ll take this old burg apart for a few days,’ Mart said. ‘Then I’ll most likely head for Santa Fé. Always did like the place. The señoritas there kinda suit my style.’
‘You old sonovabitch,’ said Doke admiringly.
‘Ain’t I just,’ said Mart, pleased.
The beer was drunk. They looked at their glasses. Mart said: ‘Have another.’
Blade declined. He had some unfinished business to attend to. ‘I’ll see you around, Mart. You coming or staying, Doke?’
Doke wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looked at the whiskey bottle standing near the bar and said: ‘I’m comin’.’ They shook hands with Mart and walked out on to the street. Doke asked: ‘What you aimin’ to do, Joe?’
‘First things first,’ Blade told him. ‘I aim to soak in a tub, then climb into some new duds. After which I expect I shall call on a couple of business acquaintances of mine. If you care to come along, you’re welcome. I could do with your help.’
‘Sure,’ said Doke, ‘I’ll come along.’
They found a barber shop with a Dutchman as a barber in it He had only lately come to the country from Europe and he did not have too many words of English. But he did not let that prevent him from giving them the latest news of Denver—the knife fights, the gun fights and a suicide. He acted out the knife fights, holding his cut-throat razor in his hand, brandished so wildly that Doke showed signs of wanting to flee the shop. However, an hour or more later, they stepped out of the place scarcely recognizable as the two men who had just come off the trail. Their hair was neatly trimmed, their clothes were new and a long soak in a hot tub had removed the smell that could have identified them as goats.
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