“Stay with us, Durant. We’re getting too far ahead of Doubell.”
Durant turned and saw Doubell at the point of the timber. His face was torn with fear as he flogged his horse. The old man rode past and only then did Carter motion for Durant to proceed.
Two – Gunslick
They were camped in a hollow. The horses were tied together, and there was plenty of grass to keep them happy. A few stars winked cold in the black velvet sky. Pete Doubell leaned against a tree and smoked, his eyes on Carter. Blake Durant squatted at the edge of the creek, watching both of them. They had travelled for four hours through the night and then, with the air a lot cooler, Carter had decided to rest the horses. Doubell had started to argue against this but Carter had silenced him sharply.
Now Carter said, “About that gold, Doubell.”
The old-timer’s head jerked. He licked at his lips. “Gold?”
“The gold them jaspers were hunting you down for,” Carter said. “To save you from coming out with a heap of lies which I reckon you could string together like beads, I’ll tell you what I know.”
Doubell glanced Durant’s way. Carter caught the look and grinned.
“Don’t fret about Durant. His time with us has just about run out.”
Doubell rolled a cigarette around in his blunt fingers and stared down thoughtfully at it. Carter walked across the floor of the hollow and looked up at the rim of the slope they had just come down. It was plain to Durant that Carter figured they’d lost their pursuers. He had the same opinion himself and was eager to be on his way. These two could wrangle between themselves for as long as they liked.
“What I know comes from what I’ve seen over the last week or so,” Carter said to Doubell. “At one time I even considered riding down and giving you a hand. But you worked so damned well, so hard and long, that I figured you didn’t need help from anybody. You were working Bodie’s river claim, right?”
A scowl worked across Doubell’s deep-seamed face. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about, Carter.”
“But you do, old man,” Carter said, drawling the words. “For one full week I checked you out. I also checked out Bodie’s outfit. They were working up a big sweat and getting no place at all while you dug in higher ground, on their claim, stashing away enough of that gold to set the pair of us up for life, I reckon.”
The old man picked up a small stone and tossed it into the creek.
Unruffled by Doubell’s silence, Carter went on, “By my reckoning you got away with seven pokes of gold, Doubell. Then you sneaked off in the dead of night. That surprised me because yesterday’s haul was your best. I had you figured for a gold-greedy old codger who wouldn’t cut out until he’d scoured that creek for every damn yellow grain in it.”
Doubell was breathing heavier now and watching Carter nervously. “Your eyes could’ve been playin’ tricks on you, Carter.”
“Nope. I watched and I saw exactly what went on. You cut out and then Bodie’s outfit, workin’ up the river early yesterday, saw where somebody had been pannin’. Didn’t take ’em long to figure out what had happened, then they rode after you. I trailed along.”
Doubell kicked at the ground, his mouth twitching. Suddenly Carter walked to him, his eyes shining with the cold light of chilled agate.
“I aim to get my share for saving your life today, Doubell. The way I see it, that makes us partners.”
Doubell gulped. He sent another look Blake Durant’s way, but Durant was digging in the mud of the bank with a stick and trying to appear bored.
“You got it all wrong,” Doubell said. “I admit I panned a little gold, but not enough to set anybody up for better’n a couple of feeds and a drink or two. That’s why I cut out when I did. Hell, why should I lock horns with the Bodie bunch for just a few specks of gold?”
Carter’s gun came into his hand with a blur of movement. “I counted seven pokes, Doubell.”
The old man gave a shallow laugh. “You don’t mean them rock samples, do you, Carter? Hell, my niece collects peculiar stones and the like, sets them out real pretty. It’s a kind of hobby with her. You’re right, though ... I sure enough filled about seven bags, but only one has any gold in it, and then it ain’t enough for folks to fight over. I’m sure grateful, though, that you got me away from them Bodie hands. They’re as mean as rattlers, all bugged up wrong and givin’ nobody a chance to explain. My horse is rested enough, I reckon, so I guess I’ll be pushin’ along.”
Doubell made for his horse. Carter stood watching him sullenly, his gun continuing to cover the old-timer.
“Why hide bags of rocks, Doubell?” he finally asked.
Doubell was at his horse’s side and reaching for the tie rein as Carter spoke. He stiffened. Durant chose this moment to rise. Maybe his chance to get away was presenting itself.
“I wanted to travel light,” Doubell said. “That’s why I buried those rock samples. Hell, it ain’t so important that my niece ...”
“We’ll go dig ’em up, old man,” Carter said.
Doubell turned to face Carter. “Go back? You loco? Those Bodie jaspers are screaming for blood on account of those you killed. They ain’t about to stop and hear an old man out.”
Carter’s lips thinned. He thought about this for a moment before he nodded. “Okay, I guess that makes sense, Doubell. We’ll go visit your niece instead. I want to see how excited she gets when you tell her you buried some rocks from a river.”
Doubell’s tongue flicked out. “Okay, sure, why not? I got me a place in the hills not far from here. We can rest up some. Then, when things cool down enough, I’ll show you I ain’t lyin’. Hell, Carter, you don’t think I’d hold out on a man who saved my skin, do you?”
Carter sucked in his breath. Durant had the feeling Carter didn’t believe a single word the old-timer had said. He believed very little of it himself.
“We’ll see your niece,” Carter said and crossed to his horse. Then he turned to Durant. “You, too, mister. And don’t get any fool ideas about makin’ a run for it. I ain’t sure what I want done with you, but I don’t think it’s sensible to leave you behind so you can talk to Bodie Get in front of me and stick close to Doubell.”
Moments later they were on the move. Doubell charged to the front and set a solid pace along the creek for five miles or so before he veered off and rode into a passage between two small hills. He was almost at the other end when he suddenly put his horse to a full gallop. Carter, quick to see the move, kicked at his horse. Doubell wheeled his mount around at the end of the passage and the animal lost its footing in the loose shale. Carter was on him in a blink, his gun level, his face gray with viciousness. Blake Durant had been prompted along by Carter and even though he trailed them by a fair bit, the bright moonlight made it impossible for him to make a break for it.
Carter watched Doubell scramble out of the brush his horse had skidded into. A string of oaths left Carter’s mouth before he said, “That’s the last trick you pull, old man. I’ll have your gun now. Rifle, too.”
Doubell’s faded eyes flashed with venom. “What the hell you talkin’ about? Nobody tried to pull any fool trick.”
Doubell dismounted and kept turning his horse, putting it between himself and Carter, and Durant saw the old man’s knife working across the reins. Then Doubell belted the knife and pulled his horse about roughly, holding the severed reins high.
“Look at that if you don’t believe me. Damn leather broke and I lost control of this contrary critter. Coulda got myself killed.”
Doubell dropped the reins and tied the loose ends together. With a shorter rein he swung into the saddle, still grumbling. Durant noticed that to his right the brush grew thicker, throwing enough deep shadows for a dozen men and horses to get lost in. Carter was eyeing this stretch too.
Turning his horse, Doubell said, “Well, I guess we’ll get on home, eh? But when we’re there, Carter, go easy with my niece, won’t you? She ain’t been long in these parts a
nd she’s still kinda feeling her way. She ain’t used to guns and such. Just treat her right and won’t be any trouble.”
“All I want is to see her collection of rocks,” Carter said.
Doubell frowned heavily for a moment, then he gave a big sigh of resignation. “She ain’t that loco she goes ’bout collectin’ trash things. All right, so it was gold I bagged sure enough, and you and me are partners now. Reckon I can use a man like you anyway. Just treat my girl right, keep your distance and it’ll be fine between you and me.”
Carter gave him a mirthless grin and motioned for him to go on. He held his horse back long enough for Durant to move Sundown along, then he fell in behind. Riding close, they went down the side of the hill onto barren flat country. For an hour they rode west before Pete Doubell worked into a narrow cutting and after a five-minute twisting ride, they came out onto a rocky shelf over a valley. Below, a small cabin showed light. Carter worked close to Durant.
“So far, so good. Keep it up and you might get to see another town yet.”
Durant didn’t reply. The moon crept under a cloud and even as he was thinking about making a break for it, Carter’s gun dug into his ribs. So much for that, Blake Durant told himself, then he ate the old-timer’s dust all the way down to the little valley.
She stood in the cabin doorway with a pistol in her hand. The light was behind her, outlining her slender figure. Durant decided that Doubell’s description of her was more than adequate, an innocent in the wilderness.
“Uncle Pete?” came her voice. “Is that you?”
“It’s me, girl, sure enough,” Doubell said.
Durant saw confusion and concern do battle in the girl’s clear-skinned face. Carter was looking her over, then his gaze became fixed on her skirt where the light behind her showed her spaced thighs. Doubell came out of the saddle and guided the girl inside. “Who are the other men, Uncle Pete?” she asked.
“A partner of mine and another jasper we picked up on the way. Get some coffee on and rake up some grub, Christine. Nothin’ fancy, ’cause we ain’t got much time.”
Durant hitched Sundown to the post near the front door and turned to face Carter. The tall man in black waited at the door of the shack, his face in profile as he admired the girl. When Blake moved to him, he said:
“Go in and sit quiet, Durant. No matter what happens, you don’t buy in. Got it?”
Durant went past him and into the cabin, where the young woman was stirring the coals in a pot-bellied stove. She turned at the sound of his step and gave him a worried look which softened when he gave her a nod of greeting.
Then Carter’s voice destroyed the silence. “Get against the wall, Durant and stay there!”
The girl turned sharply. Durant walked slowly across the room, settled against the wall and began to make himself a cigarette. Carter entered the room and studied the girl’s high breasts with hungry eyes as Doubell sniffed and looked miserable.
“We’ll eat, get some coffee into us and then shift on, Carter,” Doubell said. “No sense in stayin’ put here so those fools can catch up with us.”
“No rush,” Carter said and grinned at Christine.
Her cheeks reddened and she busied herself getting a meal together. Watching her, Durant thought of another woman, a woman separated from his physical presence by hundreds of miles and long months of drifting. And death. He touched the yellow bandanna that had been hers, then jerked his hand away and tried to make his mind go blank.
Pete Doubell turned away from the window and ran the back of his hand over his turkey neck. He kept glancing at his niece and Carter in turn. Every now and then Christine looked at him questioningly, but each time she did Doubell dropped his gaze. Finally she set out the meal and poured coffee. Carter crossed the room and sat down. Leaning on his elbows, he lowered his chin to the cup of his hands and grinned up at Christine.
Doubell took his seat and Christine picked up a mug of coffee and a sandwich and started towards Durant. But Carter’s voice stopped her.
“He can fend for himself, girlie. Just set yourself down and ignore him.”
Christine’s eyes flashed. She seemed about to say something but Doubell muttered, “Do that, Christine. We ain’t got much time.”
However, Christine handed Durant the coffee and sandwich.
“Obliged, ma’am,” he said.
She returned to the table. Carter ate quickly, stuffing the food into his mouth. Then he sat back, studying Christine more intently, his eyes bright with desire. Pete Doubell looked sick as he watched Carter. When the meal was finished, Doubell began packing gear into the saddlebags he’d fetched from outside. Blake Durant frowned when he saw his own bags being loaded. Carter had gone outside, saying he wanted to check back up the trail.
Some ten minutes later, Doubell told Christine to go outside and get on her horse. He stood a moment eyeing the walls and shelves of the shack, then he gave a heavy shrug and turned to Durant.
“Well, mister, this is the parting of the ways. Can’t have you taggin’ along any longer. This place is comfortable enough and you’ll find some grub in the pantry out back.”
Blake straightened as Doubell left the cabin, then he crossed the room and stood in the lighted doorway. When he saw Sundown saddled and the bridle in Carter’s hands, fury mounted in him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Carter?” he shouted.
Carter answered coolly, “What’s it look like, Durant? We’re pullin’ out.”
“Not with my horse you aren’t.”
Carter’s gun showed above the pommel of his saddle. “Durant, you could try to stop me, but that wouldn’t be smart at all. You played along real fine so far, so keep it that way. In a day or two somebody will drop by and maybe lend you a horse.” His grin widened. “By then we’ll be where we want to be. In the meantime you just behave. You’ll live longer.”
Blake swore under his breath. Pete Doubell gave a grunt and said, “Okay, Carter, move out with Christine. No tellin’ how close Bodie and his outfit are.”
“Wouldn’t matter,” said Carter, and he waved to Durant with his gun-filled hand.
Durant took a step after him but Doubell worked his horse between the two men. He pulled Durant’s gun from his belt, emptied it and dropped the bullets into his shirt pocket. He then dragged Durant’s rifle from the boot and emptied it. Tossing both guns to Durant, he counted off four rifle shells and tossed them onto the ground. As he hit the horse into a run, he called:
“Take care with Bodie, Durant. He’s mean.”
Then he was gone. Blake grabbed up the shells and rammed them into the rifle. Closing the breech, he lifted the rifle to his shoulder but by then all three riders were well into the timber. He lowered the Winchester, thumb-nailed bullets from his gunbelt and filled the Colt. Then he walked up the clearing into the swirl of dust lifted by the departing horses.
There was still the drum of hoof beats. When they died he returned to the shack, where he stuffed provisions into the pockets of his hide coat. He didn’t know how far he was from the next settlement or ranch, but he decided that walking by night was a lot better than walking in the heat of the long summer day. He was no more than fifty feet from the cabin when the thunder of hoof beats broke the night’s stillness.
Durant wheeled in his tracks as four riders appeared on the narrow track, moonlight glinting from the barrels of their guns. The big man in front swung his horse Durant’s way.
“There’s one of the murderin’ scum!”
Durant ran for the cabin as another two riders appeared. Guns roared and bullets burned the air around him. He shouldered his way into the cabin, kicked the door closed and smashed a window pane. His first volley of shots was aimed high, over the heads of the oncoming riders. The shots had the required effect, making Bodie and his men spread out. Durant crossed the room and flattened against the wall. He was no sooner there than the cabin shook under the blast of terrific gunfire. The rest of the window was shattere
d and pieces of timber flew into the room. One bullet smashed the table lantern. Plates shattered and cooking pans on the shelf above the stove clattered. More bullets ricocheted from the pot-bellied stove. For two long minutes the bullets kept coming.
Then there was silence.
Durant knew that Bodie had realized the futility of their attack. The light was not good enough but within a few hours it would be sunup. Durant worked his way to the back door and listened for a moment before stepping out. The cabin roof threw shadow far into the yard. He breathed a sigh of relief and went along the run of the shadow to its end. He waited there, hearing movement to the right and left. Beyond the small clearing at the rear of the cabin was a short, steep slope that led to heavy timber.
Durant broke into a run. He was almost to the top of the slope when bullets began to savage the ground and air about him. He took a desperate dive and went over the hump of the slope, landing on soft grass. Getting to his feet, he ran into the timber.
Three – Night Hunt
All night they followed. Blake Durant kept to the edge of the valley floor where the moonlight couldn’t penetrate. He knew they couldn’t see him, but from time to time there was a call from one of them, and three times during the night a single shot was fired. He kept pushing on, his legs bruised by grass-hidden stumps and small boulders. When the first gray light of dawn began to filter through the timber, he worked his way to higher ground. In daylight he would be able to pick his trail so he wouldn’t leave tracks. Before he came across Pete Doubell he’d been making his way towards some new settlements. How far they were from him now, he had no idea. He was disoriented. But he could see no good reason for changing direction.
He crossed the ridgelines of three hills before he found himself looking into a barren valley that appeared to offer little cover and no hope of water. It was dead, grayed by drought, deserted. But he went down into it and suddenly his luck took a turn for the better. In the dust of the valley floor he picked up the fresh tracks of four horses. Doubell, his niece and Carter, with Sundown pulled along.
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