The Desperate Deputy of Cougar Hill

by Louis Trimble

  And then he remembered — there were two of them to take turns standing guard. He was only one, and sooner or later he would have to sleep. And they had the food. He had only an empty belly.

  From beyond the end of the tunnel, Larabee’s voice came clear and mocking: “You might as well come out now, Roy. You’ve got nothing to wait for. Not anymore.”

  Cameron squatted down with his back to the rock wall. From this position he could see the yellow splotch of sunlight at the mouth of the tunnel. Anyone coming after him would have to step through the sunlight and into shadow. He would have a perfectly outlined target while his opponent would be temporarily blinded by the dimness.

  It was his round — as long as he could stay right here.

  XIII

  LARABEE AND Arker stayed out of sight of the tunnel mouth. They moved around restlessly, talking in low tones. Cameron could hear everything they said and did — the tunnel sucked in sound and carried it to him plainly. He listened to them set up camp — building a fire and starting coffee cooking. His stomach growled at the rich odor.

  From the sharpness in Larabee’s voice, Cameron realized that his patience was wearing thin. Cameron wondered if he could keep Larabee that way. If so, he might have a chance. An impatient man was a man who made mistakes.

  Larabee said, “I can’t spend any more time here. I have to get to town.”

  “You got all day and half the night before we hit the bank,” Rafe Arker said. “We’ll get both Cameron and the kid in plenty of time.”

  “Remember, Cameron was going to stand guard,” Larabee said. “When he played the fool and refused, I thought we’d have to take all the risk ourselves. But now I’ve figured something that might even be better than the original plan.”

  “It better be good,” Arker warned. “I ain’t going to risk passing up my share of that gold. I got plans for it. After this winter is over, the man who’s got money’ll be able to buy up half the valley. And that’s going to be me. Without the gold, there ain’t many ranchers who can ride through another year.”

  “It is good,” Larabee assured him. “And it solves all our problems — Cameron, the kid, those fools in town getting suspicious of us.” He laughed abruptly. “By the time Cameron and the kid are found — if they ever are — it’ll be too late for anybody to do anything. Meanwhile, those Cougar Hill yokels can spend their time hunting for Cameron to arrest him for robbing the bank!”

  Arker’s grunt was skeptical. “By God,” he said, “I’d like to see you make Balder and the rest think Cameron ain’t a little tin god.”

  “That’s why I have to get to town before long,” Larabee said. A lazy chuckle replaced some of the sharpness in his voice. “How did you think I was going to get Cameron to stand guard for us tonight?”

  Arker made no reply. Larabee went on, “Because I told him I’d spread the word about his having been in prison. You know how Balder would take that!”

  “He’d throw you out of his office,” Rafe Arker said.

  “Hardly. Because I have proof,” Larabee purred. “I have a copy of the record that was made when they arrested Cameron.” His chuckle grew stronger. “By the time I finish with my story, every man in town will be on the lookout for him. Even if he managed to get away from us, he wouldn’t find much help in these parts — not after I get through with him.”

  “He ain’t going to get away,” Arker rumbled. He grunted again. “But I don’t see what good all this is going to do. If you got everybody on the lookout for Cameron, you won’t be able to get within a mile of that bank tonight. It’ll be surrounded by guards three deep.”

  “That’s right, it would be,” Larabee agreed complacently. “But not tonight. Because I’m going to tell Stedman and Balder that I overheard Cameron and a pair of strangers planning to hit the bank tomorrow night — when everybody was off-guard. I’ll explain that until I heard the talk, I didn’t think it my business to expose Cameron’s past. But now I have no choice, since I’m a very law-abiding man.”

  He went on, obviously pleased with himself, “Don’t forget, Arker, that in the eyes of men like Stedman and his friends, I’m a first class citizen. A wealthy businessman. And to Stedman’s type, that kind can do no wrong.

  “Besides, some of the money in that bank is mine — a good faith deposit I made when I first came here. It’s only logical that I try to protect it.”

  “Even so,” Arker argued, “that don’t mean Balder’ll have any fewer guards around the bank tonight than he will tomorrow.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” Larabee said with impatience. “This is Saturday. Tonight, all the crews that have come down out of the hills will be celebrating. The army will have taken away all but the last few head of stock and the bank will be full of gold everybody plans to get on Monday. By midnight, how many men will be sober enough to stand guard for Balder?”

  “A pair in front, maybe. Two in the alley for sure,” Arker said.

  “Exactly. And those two in the alley are going to be relieved just before one o’clock in the morning. By the Dondee brothers, or one of them and Farley.”

  “If they don’t want to be relieved, what then?”

  “We’ll take care of them,” Larabee said. “Remember, they’ll see only two men. But I’ll be there too. And three against a pair is pretty fair odds.”

  “What about me?” Arker asked. His voice thickened slightly with suspicion.

  “I told you before I didn’t want you in town,” Larabee snapped. “Anybody would recognize you and that palomino two blocks off. You and one of the Dondees or Farley will have camp set up in that hideout over the south pass that you told me about.”

  “You better have Joe with you,” Arker said. “He and me are the only ones can find that place.”

  “As soon as we get the gold,” Larabee said, “we’ll ride up and hide it — where each of us can watch the others. Then you and Farley hit for your ranch and the Dondees for their mine. I’ll circle in the hills and come out by Obed Beggs’ place, claiming I was hunting for Cameron. When things quiet down, we’ll help ourselves to the gold and each can go his own way.”

  Larabee’s shadow fell across the mouth of the tunnel. “Now you see why Cameron and the kid have to be got rid of — and hidden so they won’t turn up before spring at the earliest.”

  “I’ll take care of them,” Arker said. “As soon as Joe shows up, you ride for town and leave Cameron and the kid to him and me.”

  “Farley’s supposed to be watching that Purcell girl,” Larabee said. “And she should be on her way into the mountains by now. I understand she was going to the meadow above to bring down the last of the wild stuff.”

  “You told Joe to watch Jenny?” Arker sounded angry. “What for?”

  “Because where she plans to go is the place where the Dondees have the kid holed up — at least it’s a meadow with wild horses in it. And she knows these mountains. What if she gets wind that the boy is there? She might trick the Dondees and get the kid away. I’m taking no chances at this stage.”

  “Nobody fools with Jenny,” Arker said. “When I’m owner of half a dozen ranches, I got a feeling she’ll think different about me than she does now.”

  Cameron smiled thinly at the big man’s simplicity. Then the smile faded as he heard Larabee say very softly, “And what if it comes to a choice between the girl and the gold?”

  Arker was silent for some time. Then he said, “A woman’s easier to get than gold, Larabee. But there ain’t no call to gun her down. I know these mountains too, remember. If she shows up, you leave me handle her.” His voice thickened. “Maybe I can find out today how she’ll like me when I’m rich.”

  Larabee swore with sudden, deep pleasure. “That’s the way to do it!” he exclaimed. “When she shows up, we’ll catch her and give you the job of guarding her. How do you think Cameron will act when he learns that?”

  Arker’s laugh rumbled through the tunnel. “By God! He’ll come outa them rocks like a scalded g
oat!” he cried.

  “And once we get Cameron out of the way, we’ll use the same trick on the kid,” Larabee went on quickly. “He’s been hanging around Cameron long enough to be the same kind of damn fool.”

  He raised his voice. “Roy, can you hear me? Jenny’s coming up this way. I’m going to catch her and give her to Arker for safekeeping.”

  Anger shook Cameron. He knew that Larabee meant every word he said. This was the kind of solution he would think of, the kind of plan his cold, twisted mind would conceive. And what he said was true — both Tod and Cameron would risk themselves to keep Jenny away from Rafe Arker.

  “Well, Roy …?”

  “Someone’s coming onto the bench,” Arker warned.

  There was a scrambling sound as someone climbed up the rocks to get a better view. Cameron heard Larabee’s voice, fainter now. “It’s the girl!”

  Cameron heard the sound of his sliding down the rocks. “Pull the horses in behind that boulder,” he ordered. “Keep out of her sight for a while. But stay by you palomino. Then as soon as she’s abreast of us, you angle up toward the timber and block her. If she tries to turn, I’ll be in the way.”

  His laughter seemed to choke him. “And then watch Cameron come out of here — like a cork out of a bottle of wild champagne!”

  “When he does, I want him,” Arker said savagely. “Remember that — Cameron’s mine!”

  “Of course,” Larabee answered. He was still laughing. “You can have Cameron and the girl both!”

  XIV

  CAMERON’S IMPULSE was to run down the tunnel and fight it out with Larabee and Arker. But he forced himself to calmness. He could still not handle himself easily — the threat of that surging, numbing pain was ever-present. His only hope of success would lie in surprise, and he knew they would hear him coming and be waiting.

  As quickly as he could manage, he turned and made his way to the base of the flat-topped rock he had used before as a lookout. He climbed to the edge and then carefully lifted his head. Arker and Larabee were still too close to the rock pile for him to see, but Jenny was plainly visible.

  She came along the bench trail at a steady pace, not driving her sorrel horse but not letting it linger either. Cameron’s experienced glance took in the bulging saddlebags, the warbag tied behind the saddle, and he judged that she was too heavy laden to outrun the palomino unless she had a strong lead on it.

  He scanned the trail ahead of Jenny. She was almost halfway to the timber now and that part of the trail lying in front of her was level and fairly smooth. If she could make the timber, she could hold Arker off — she handled a carbine better than most men. But the angle Arker would ride from the rocks to the trail gave him all the advantage since Jenny would be lucky to see him before he was over halfway to her.

  Cameron thought, If he could warn her now, she could turn and ride back. To catch her then, Larabee would have to run over rocky ground and with the sun in his eyes. Cameron gathered himself to rise up and shout his warning. The sound choked back in his throat Coming over the crest of the bench behind Jenny was the unmistakable figure of Joe Farley. If she turned now, she would be caught between him and Larabee.

  Her only hope was to outrun Rafe Arker. Cameron heaved to his feet. He stood openly, his hands cupped to his mouth. “Jenny, ride!” he cried. “Ride for the timber. Arker’s in these rocks. Ride!”

  He saw her head turn. He could almost see the surprise and bewilderment on her face. Then Arker’s big palomino burst into view, racing at an angle toward the trail. At the same time, Arker was swiveled in the saddle so that he faced Cameron. Sunlight glinted harshly on the gun he held. He fired and lead screamed off the rock a foot to Cameron’s right.

  Cameron saw Larabee riding out on the left and knew that he was getting in position so they could pin him in a crossfire. His showing himself this way was what Larabee had anticipated. But Larabee had failed to count on one thing, Cameron saw — Jenny Purcell.

  Instead of riding up the trail for the timber, she had turned her sorrel and was spurring it toward the rocks. Her carbine was out of its boot, and even as Cameron bellied down and tried to take aim on Arker’s huge figure, she had the gun to her shoulder and was firing.

  The palomino jerked to one side as dirt spurted by his hoofs. Cameron’s shot missed as the horse jumped. Then he turned his attention to Larabee and sent two quick shots. He was no longer trying merely to drive Larabee away. Now he shot to kill. But even as he fired he could feel his arm fail to hold steady and his bullets went wide of their mark.

  Joe Farley was coming in now, pushing his horse hard, unlimbering his gun as he came.

  Cameron rose to his knees. Arker had the palomino straightened out and he was driving it toward Jenny’s sorrel. “Ride for the timber!” Cameron cried at her.

  Larabee’s lead whined close to him. Another bullet ricocheted off rock, sending sharp shards against his side to rip at his clothes. He saw one of Jenny’s shots send Larabee racing away in a wide arc. Cameron swore. With his shooting as poor as it was, he had little chance to help her at this range. And within minutes, the trio could close her in the middle of a deadly triangle. She might get one of them, but she had no chance against all three.

  He could only help, Cameron realized, by getting out there, by being at close enough range to make his shooting count. He felt a bullet tug at his hatbrim as he slid backward off the rock. Then he was down in the small meadow, reaching for his saddle.

  The roan was rested and fed and full of ginger. He tried a little bucking as Cameron mounted. “Save your energy,” Cameron cautioned. He reloaded his .44 and spurred the roan for the tunnel.

  His hope lay in surprise, but he dared not risk any more delay. He sent the horse spurting onto the rock-strewn plain. Jenny still held Arker and Larabee off with her carbine, but Joe Farley was coming within handgun range at her rear.

  “Ride for the timber!” Cameron commanded her again. He drove a shot at Rafe Arker, forcing him to swing the palomino away from Jenny, giving her a chance to ride the angle Arker had planned to take. And now she went, leaning forward in the saddle, urging the sorrel to as much speed as it could muster with the load it carried.

  Cameron saw Larabee come toward him. Arker turned at the same time. “Get the girl, Joe!” he cried.

  Farley swung in Jenny’s direction. Cameron saw her rein up. He groaned. Then he saw her strategy. She was out of handgun range now, but her carbine could reach to Larabee and Arker closing in on Cameron.

  Her voice came across the flat: “Ride, Roy. It’s your only chance!”

  He could feel the roan’s taut muscles under him. It wanted to run — then he’d let it run! He put his heels to its flanks and gave the horse its head. The stocky animal spurted forward. Both Larabee and Arker were coming in at an angle toward Cameron. The roan went between them and was a good dozen strides away before they could turn their mounts. Cameron let Jenny’s carbine do the talking for him now. He concentrated on guiding the roan across the rocky ground. At the same time, he kept his eye on Farley.

  Farley was almost within range of Jenny now and Cameron lifted his gun. The muscles of his right arm jumped, making sharp aim impossible. But his bullets were close enough to slow Farley long enough for Cameron to send the roan between him and Jenny.

  And now Jenny turned the sorrel. Cameron dropped in behind her. Farley was coming on again. Arker and Larabee had their mounts driving, and the big palomino was beginning to eat up the ground in great gulps. Soon they would be within handgun range again, Cameron saw. Only the timber ahead offered any hope of safetly.

  Cameron laid a shot in front of the palomino. It broke stride, caught itself and pounded on again. To the left, Farley cried, “The girl’s getting into the trees!”

  Cameron looked up. The sorrel’s tail flicked out of sight as the horse carried Jenny into the stand of spruce and alpine fir. Then a bullet scoured leather on his saddle and he twisted about. Arker and the palomino loomed large bef
ore his gaze. The bright sun picked out the steel of Arker’s gun barrel and sent the bright reflection bursting into Cameron’s eyes. He jerked the reins, putting the roan into a weaving run. Arker fired and missed. From the side, Farley sent a bullet whipping in that drew a thin streak of red across the roan’s rump.

  Cameron clenched his teeth against the pain beginning to surge up from his ribs. Jenny was shooting from the timber now, forcing the palomino to veer off in a wide arc. But she had no angle on Farley and he was close enough for his next shot to drop Cameron from the saddle. Carefully, Cameron laid the hot barrel of his .44 in the crook of his left elbow. He turned in the saddle and got his bead on Farley. He sought to catch the rhythm of the roan’s gait, but the rocky ground made it run unevenly so that he could find no precise instant when it was best to fire.

  Even so Cameron’s first shot made Farley’s horse break stride, made Farley’s shot miss its target. Cameron fired again, coldly, deliberately, aiming now to hammer Farley out of the saddle and into the dirt. His shot caught Farley’s hat, sending it sailing to one side of the trail.

  Farley broke. He jerked the reins and raced wide, kicking his horse viciously. Now Larabee was coming up, his bay taking advantage of Cameron’s having had to slow the roan. But the timber lay less than a dozen strides ahead. Cameron flattened himself over the saddle horn, giving Jenny a chance to shoot above him, and. under the whispering of her carbine shots, he gained the shadows of the trees.

  He dropped out of the saddle and jerked his carbine from the boot. Jenny stood screened by bushes and the boles of the small spruce and fir trees. Cameron joined her. He saw that Farley had rallied and the three riders were coming in abreast now, but widely spaced.

  “If one of them gets in this timber, we’ll be no better off than before,” Cameron said. A grunt of pleasure burst from him as Jenny’s shot whipped through Arker’s billowing vest, sending the big man leaning to one side.

  Farley was the closest to the timber, coming in from the far right. He had his carbine out now and Cameron knew that he must have glimpsed something — the whiteness of skin or the bright red of Jenny’s mackinaw. He was drawing a careful bead and his horse stopped at his command.