A man who did that was seldom taken by surprise. Disappointed, maybe, but not surprised.
Luke paused at the outer edge of the boulders and listened intently. In addition to the small sounds coming from the horses, he heard voices muttering.
Then Dietrich’s eastern-accented tones said clearly, “Build a fire, Pardee. There’s no reason for us to sit here shivering all night. Put some coffee on to boil, too.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, boss,” another man said. “Even if they can’t see the flames from where they are in that canyon, they’ll see the glow and know we’re here. It’ll give ’em something to aim at.”
“These rocks provide excellent shelter. You said so yourself.”
“Yeah, but when a slug goes to bouncin’ around, you never know for sure where it’s gonna go.”
“Build the fire, anyway,” Dietrich ordered. “I’m already chilled to the bone, and it’ll be even colder by morning.”
He was right about that. Even in summer, the temperature dropped quite a bit at night in the high, dry country.
Luke stayed where he was, motionless in deep shadow next to one of the boulders, while he listened to the hired gun build the fire as Dietrich had ordered. He heard the man moving around, heard the rasp of a match, and a moment later caught the faint crackle of flames and smelled wood smoke. After a few more minutes went by, the scent of coffee brewing was added to the mix.
The gunman was right that Hobie and the others in the canyon would be able to see the reflected glow from the fire, but that didn’t mean much. They didn’t have an endless amount of ammunition, so firing in the general direction of the rocks in the hope that a ricochet might find one of the enemy was too risky. It would just exhaust their supply of bullets that much quicker.
Luke had already sheathed his knife. He drew one of the Remingtons and began slipping around the boulders, staying in the shadows and working his way closer to the fire.
He could hear Dietrich and the other man talking in low tones, discussing what they would do in the morning. A feint toward the canyon would draw the fire of the defenders and determine whether they still had any ammunition. If not, the men could ride in and take Jessica. If the defenders continued to put up a fight, Dietrich’s men would withdraw and continue the siege.
Luke came to a huge slab of rock that rose at a slant. It was steep, but not so steep that he couldn’t climb it, he thought. He holstered the gun and started the ascent, leaning far forward to rest both hands against the rock.
The surface was rough enough to provide handholds and footholds. As he began to climb, he hoped the noises coming from the restless horses would cover up any small sounds he made.
When Luke reached the crest of the rock about fifteen feet off the ground, he took off his hat, went to his belly, and edged forward so he could look over the far edge. The rock dropped off sheer. Dietrich’s hired gun had built the fire against its base.
By the flickering light of the flames, Luke saw three men standing near the fire. He had heard only two voices, so he knew one of the gun wolves had to be the taciturn sort.
He didn’t have any trouble figuring out which one was Milton Dietrich. The man from Boston wore a gray suit and a homburg hat. He was a little below medium height and of average build. His hair was steely gray and his face had a slightly pinched look about it, as if he were used to disapproving of just about everything. He was about as ordinary-looking a gent as Luke had ever seen.
And yet his evil was far from ordinary. Dietrich was responsible for the deaths of at least three innocent people, as well as for terrorizing a young woman and endangering a number of other folks.
Luke knew that from where he was, he could put a bullet through the man’s brain, and he was sorely tempted to do just that. The only thing stopping him was knowing that if Dietrich was dead, the men he had hired might go on a killing spree. They wouldn’t have anything to lose. As long as Dietrich was alive, even if he was a prisoner, there would still be a chance the gunmen might get the money he owed them.
One of the men filled a tin cup with coffee and handed it to Dietrich. The easterner swallowed a sip of the brew and grimaced, but he took another sip. Whether it tasted good or not, coffee would have a bracing effect on the cool night.
“Pardee, we need to talk about what’s going to happen once we have Miss Wheeler in our custody,” Dietrich said, making it sound like they were lawmen of some sort, rather than the worst kind of trigger-happy scum. “I don’t want anyone coming after us or trying to set the law on us.”
“That’s what I figured, boss,” replied the man who had handed Dietrich the cup. He was a stocky hombre with a ragged black mustache. He wore a black hat and a cowhide vest. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of cleanin’ up.”
“I’ll promise her that if she surrenders, the others won’t be harmed, but I think we both know what needs to happen in the long run.”
Pardee chuckled. “We don’t want to leave any witnesses behind, that’s for sure. They know we killed those fellas back at the way station.”
“It’s very important that nothing happens until Miss Wheeler and I are gone,” Dietrich went on. “I still have hopes of winning her affections, so she needs to believe that I kept my word and her new friends weren’t hurt.”
“We’ll handle it,” Pardee assured him. “You can tell her we’ll just hold ’em prisoner here until y’all are gone and then let ’em go.”
“But as soon as we’re well out of earshot—”
“No need to spell it out, boss. We’ll bury the bodies all the way up in that canyon where nobody’s likely to find the graves for a long time. Maybe never.”
Luke’s anger grew as he listened to them callously plotting the slaughter of Hobie, Jim Pierce, and the Langstons. From his vantage point he could see the horses and knew there wasn’t anyone with them. He figured the third man by the fire was responsible for them.
Luke had to take care of two men—three if he counted Dietrich—but he didn’t figure the older man represented much of a threat. He drew both guns, knowing he would have to shoot swift and sure to bring down both hardcases. Once that was done, he could drop down and take Dietrich prisoner.
Before he could make his move, a harsh voice suddenly yelled from behind him, “Look out, boys! One of ’em’s up there on that rock!”
The shout was followed immediately by the roar of a gun.
Instinct sent Luke twisting around. A bullet spanged off the slab beside him, sending dust and rock chips flying into the air. Being spotted was a stroke of bad luck and the one thing he couldn’t plan for.
The gunman behind him let fly with another shot, but the slug whistled past Luke’s ear.
Luke aimed at the muzzle flash and triggered twice. A howl of pain split the night, telling him that at least one of the shots had scored.
He would be a good target as long as he was up there on top of the boulder, so he got down the quickest way he knew how. He rolled over, came up in a crouch, and leaped off the rock, aiming at the camp below.
Pardee and the other hardcase had their guns out, but they didn’t know exactly where Luke was and certainly didn’t expect him to come diving out of the night sky at them. As professional gunmen, though, their reactions were quick, and each man got a shot off as Luke plummeted toward them. Neither bullet came close to him.
Chance aimed Luke’s dive at the second man. He landed feet-first, his boot heels smashing into the man’s chest and driving him to the ground. Bones snapped and splintered under the impact.
Luke’s momentum carried him forward in a roll as he hit the ground. He came up on one knee, twisting toward Pardee as the man fired again. The slug whipped over Luke’s left shoulder and past his ear.
Both Remingtons spewed flame as he fired. The pair of .36 caliber slugs pounded into Pardee’s chest and drove him backward in a jittering dance. His gun sagged toward the ground and boomed again as a spasm made his finger jerk the trigger. He los
t his balance and fell into the fire, landing on his back and causing an explosion of sparks in the air around him. He screamed as his clothes and hair started to burn, but he was too weakened by his wounds to escape the flames.
Luke bounded to his feet and lunged toward Milton Dietrich, who stood there with the cup of coffee still in his hand, looking stunned and dumbfounded by the sudden violent turn of events. Too late, he dropped the cup and tried to turn and run, but Luke’s left-hand gun came crashing down on his head, denting the fancy hat and sending Dietrich stumbling to his knees.
Luke holstered that Remington, reached down, grabbed the collar of Dietrich’s coat, and hauled the man to his feet again. He pressed the barrel of the other revolver against Dietrich’s back. “It wouldn’t take a hell of a lot to convince me to blow your guts out, Dietrich. So you better listen and listen good.”
“Don’t kill me!” Dietrich babbled. “Please don’t kill me!”
That was typical, Luke thought. Like most men drunk on their own power and arrogance and accustomed to riding roughshod over anyone who opposed them, once his own life was threatened Dietrich turned into a pathetic, mewling coward. Luke turned him toward the fire, where Pardee still whimpered and thrashed around weakly. The stomach-turning smell of burning flesh filled the air.
As Pardee’s moans faded away, Luke said to Dietrich, “I ought to throw you in the fire with him. It’s just what you deserve.”
“No, no, I’ll pay you. I swear to God I’ll give you anything you want—”
“Shut up!” Luke heard footsteps pounding quickly toward them and knew the rest of the gunnies were coming to see what all the shooting and yelling was about. “Tell your men to back off. Now!”
“Stop!” Dietrich shouted. “Stop where you are! Don’t come any closer!”
“Boss?” one of the gunman called tentatively. “What’s going on over there?”
“Don’t come any closer,” Dietrich said again. “This . . . this madman will kill me!”
“Damn right I will!” Luke said, lifting his voice so the other men could hear him and know that he wasn’t bluffing.
He prodded the gun barrel harder into Dietrich’s back. “You know how a revolver like this works, Mr. Dietrich?” Luke’s voice dripped with scorn as he asked the question. “I’ve already tripped the trigger. My thumb on the hammer is all that’s keeping it from firing. It would behoove you to keep that from happening.”
“You . . . you sound like an educated man. Surely we can come to some sort of agreement, work out an arrangement—”
“I like money as much as the next fella, Dietrich, but I wouldn’t touch any of yours. It’s too dirty even for me.” Luke hauled him toward the edge of the cluster of boulders. “Now, you and I are going to walk over to that canyon, and if your men get any bright ideas about shooting me, this gun will go off when I let go of the hammer and you’ll die, too. So what do you think you should tell them?”
“Hold your fire!” Dietrich practically screamed. “Whatever you do, for God’s sake don’t shoot!”
Although Dietrich had given that order, the skin on the back of Luke’s neck crawled as he stepped out of the cover of the boulders and forced Dietrich ahead of him. Even with just starlight to aim by, those gunmen were probably good enough shots to ventilate him. He hoped they would follow the orders of the man paying them and hold their fire.
No shots sounded as Luke strode out into the open. He whistled for his horse, knowing the animal would respond. Sure enough, the horse trotted up out of the darkness a moment later and gave Luke a friendly nudge on the shoulder with his nose.
Luke kept a tight grip on Dietrich’s collar as the man stumbled along in front of him. The horse walked along easily behind them. The open ground between them and the canyon mouth seemed a hundred miles wide, rather than a few hundred yards.
As he pushed Dietrich along, Luke wondered what Hobie and the others were thinking about all the shooting a few minutes earlier. They had to be curious, especially once they realized the bullets weren’t coming toward them. It must have sounded like a battle had broken out among Dietrich’s men. He wondered if they had spotted him and Dietrich walking toward the canyon mouth.
When he was about fifty yards away, Luke stopped and called, “Hobie! Hey, Hobie, can you hear me?”
“Luke?” the young man’s voice came back instantly. “That’s you?”
“Yeah, so hold your fire! I’ve got Dietrich with me.”
“My God!” That was Jessica. “You’ve taken him prisoner?”
“I have a gun in his back,” Luke replied. “He’s ordered his men not to shoot. We’re coming in.”
“You’re never going to get away with this,” Dietrich said in a low, furious voice. His immense pride asserted itself as he seemed to have gotten over being scared. “I’ll see to it that you’re hunted down and killed.” His voice shook a little from the depths of his rage as he added, “I don’t care how long it takes, you’re a dead man.”
Luke said, “Talk like that makes me think I ought to go ahead and let this hammer drop.” He chuckled. “Is that what you want, Dietrich?”
“If you’re as intelligent as you seem, that’s exactly what you’ll do. Do you really want a man like me as your enemy?”
“They say you can judge a man by the sort of enemies he makes,” Luke drawled. “If that’s true, I’m pretty well satisfied to be on the opposite side from you, mister.”
Dietrich didn’t say anything else as they covered the rest of the distance to the canyon. As they stepped into the thick shadows at its mouth, Hobie said, “Over here, Luke.”
Luke followed the voice to some rocks along the canyon wall. The stagecoach was parked behind them, and the embers of a small fire glowed beyond the coach. By the faint light they cast, Luke saw the vague shapes of Hobie, Jessica, Pierce, and the Langstons as the defenders gathered around them.
“I was hoping I’d never have to see you again,” Jessica said to Dietrich.
“You’ll regret this,” he snapped. “All of you will. I’m not accustomed to such treatment.”
“You’re not used to bein’ on the receivin’ end of it,” Hobie said. “You sure can dish out the misery, though.”
Pierce asked, “What did you find back at the way station, Luke?”
Luke’s tone was gentle as he said, “I’m sorry, Jim. We were right about what happened there. Your friend and his boys are dead.”
Pierce muttered a heartfelt curse. Then he lifted his shotgun and said, “This hombre here is the one responsible for what happened, even if he never pulled a trigger. Step away from him.”
“No!” Dietrich gasped. “You can’t just kill me in cold blood.”
“That’s what your men did to poor ol’ Banty and his boys,” Pierce said. “Hell, a double load of buckshot is better’n you deserve. It’ll kill you quick, and what you’ve really got comin’ is a slow, painful death.”
Dietrich’s head jerked around toward Luke. “You . . . you can’t allow this lunatic to—”
“I’d mind my tongue if I was you,” Luke said. “Jim, I hate to say it, but right now Dietrich is worth more to us alive.”
“Reckon I know that,” the jehu growled as he slowly lowered the scattergun. “But if I had my druthers, his insides’d be scattered all over this canyon by now.”
“Maybe you’ll get your chance later,” Luke said. “I guess it all depends on whether Dietrich’s men want to let us out of here in the morning.”
CHAPTER 22
It was only a few hours until dawn. No one had slept much, but Luke figured it would be safe enough for them to take turns grabbing a few winks while Dietrich was their prisoner.
“He only has three or four of those hardcases left,” Luke told the others while he was tying Dietrich’s hands behind his back. “The odds are as close to even as they’ve ever been since this trouble started.”
“Are you willing to bet your life on that?” Dietrich asked coolly. “For all y
ou know, I have more men working for me than you’ve seen so far.”
Luke knew that was true, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Dietrich. Instead, he sat the man down on the ground with his back against one of the stagecoach wheels and said, “I’ll take my chances.”
Hobie said, “So will I. You’re beat, mister. You just don’t know it yet.”
Dietrich glared up at him. He seemed to have a special hatred for the young man. He had seen the protective way Hobie stayed so close to Jessica. Even in bad light, anybody with half an eye could tell how Hobie felt about her.
Luke thought those feelings were beginning to be returned, judging by the way Jessica stood close to Hobie, smiled at him, and rested a hand on his arm from time to time while they were talking.
Taking advantage of the opportunity to get a little rest, he wiped the charcoal streaks off his face, then sat down with his back against a rock, stretched his legs out in front of him, and tipped his black hat down over his eyes, even though he didn’t really need the brim’s shade at the moment.
In a matter of minutes he had fallen into a light doze, a manhunter’s sleep that would allow him to come awake instantly and completely at the first sign of trouble.
Nothing disturbed him, though, until the smell of coffee roused him. When he opened his eyes he saw that the eastern sky was gray with the approach of daylight.
Luke stood up and stretched. He looked around and saw that Dietrich had gone to sleep, too. The man’s head hung forward over his chest as he snored. A few yards away, Jim Pierce sat guarding him with the shotgun ready.
“Any problems?” Luke asked.
Pierce shook his head. “Nah, those buzzards out yonder have been quiet. To tell you the truth, I ain’t sure they’re even still out there.”
“I’d bet a hat they are,” Luke said. “They’re not going to give up on the job just yet. It wouldn’t surprise me if Dietrich promised them a bonus when he got what he wanted, and they’ll still try to collect that if they can.”
“You’re probably right. Hombres like that are mighty stubborn when it comes to their money.”
Luke Jensen Bounty Hunter Dead Shot Page 17