Clayburn immediately led the men back through the dunes, not allowing them time to find out just how tired they were.
They bulled the second double-teamed wagon through the way they had the first-and went back for the third. It was time for the midday meal when they got the fourth wagon across.
The food and rest gave the men a chance to realize how worn-out they were-and to get over it somewhat. Clayburn was relieved to find that he didn't have to force any of them to their feet when he called an end to the meal break.
By then the mules that had hauled the first wagon through had recovered. They were unhitched and led back through the dunes to be hitched to the fifth wagon. This time it was even slower work getting the wagon across. But they got it done. Then the mule teams that had pulled the second wagon were used to haul the sixth one.
Clayburn was surprised-and impressed-to find Cora Sorel still with them, shoving against the wagon with the weariness-weakened teamsters. And when they went for the seventh wagon she still didn't drop out. She looked pale and shaken, and half out on her feet. But Clayburn didn't try to persuade her to call it quits. It was her cargo they were taking to Bannock. It was her money that would be lost if they didn't get there.
Dusk was closing around them when they got the last wagon across the dunes. It had taken an entire day to traverse just two miles.
Clayburn was gambling that the total time saved by taking the shorter route through the desert would make up for it.
***
They were entering a land of rugged hills, mesas and rock canyons two days later, the wind growing steadily colder, when Ranse Blue caught up to them with news that Clayburn had won his gamble.
Adler's outfit was more than half a day behind them.
NINE
The sun was a dull red blob sinking into the jagged horizon, casting long tortured shadows across a landscape that might have been created by the dropping from the sky of a God-sized jigsaw puzzle of stone and clay; a land of flat-topped mesas and twisting canyons and towering masses of rock, of eroded butte spires, dry gullies and monstrous boulders. The wind was not strong, but its breath had become noticeably colder during the day's progress northward.
Clayburn sat his tall sorrel atop a high flat rock, the collar of his sheepskin coat turned up to warm his ears as he gazed north to the dark, looming range of the mountains. Snow gleamed on those mountains, tinged with a rosy hue by the setting sun. But it only showed in patches, high up, and the clouds above the range were light and fluffy, containing no threat of more snow. Not yet.
His saddle creaked under him as Clayburn turned slowly, taking one last survey of the other horizons. When he was studying the south, he became very still. Then he raised his field glasses to his eyes, adjusted them to the distance. There was dust rising behind the farthest rim-rock.
It might be Apaches. But he'd spent most of that day hunting for sign of their presence, without finding any. Besides, it wasn't Apaches that he was expecting at this stage in the game.
The dust was blown away on the wind. No more rose in its place. No riders appeared over the rimrock. Clayburn waited, watching through the high-powered lenses. Five minutes passed. Nothing further stirred back there. Finally Clayburn lowered the glasses, twitched the reins, and rode the sorrel down off the rock into a deep meandering gully.
Two hundred yards away, the red-haired Wilks crouched in the dark shadow of a boulder and watched him go…
The dry gully led Clayburn into a crisscrossing of shallow canyons. He pulled up the sorrel and listened. Then he kicked his mount into motion again, cutting southwest through the canyon maze. Half a mile farther on he found the wagon train filing past the bottom of a vast shale slide, Cora and Roud riding flank and Haycox trailing a quarter of a mile behind the last freight wagon.
Cora rode up as he approached. She looked tired from the long day's riding, but she straightened on her buckskin and grinned as they met.
"You're a little late tonight, Clay. I was beginning to worry."
"About me?"
"You sound surprised. Are you supposed to be indestructible? Things could happen to you."
Clayburn nodded. "And have-too many times."
"Did you find a good place for us to camp for the night?"
"One that'll serve," he told her, and rode in ahead of the chuck wagon. Motioning Kosta to follow, he angled northeast away from the shale slide.
Keeping pace with him, Cora said, "I've been studying the ridges all around for two days straight, ever since you told me Adler had somebody watching us. I haven't seen a sign of anybody."
"Don't get your hopes up. He's there."
Involuntarily, Cora glanced off to left and right. Then she looked again at Clayburn's hard, impassive profile. "Where?"
He shrugged. "I don't know-because I've made a point of not looking."
The wagons were halfway through a deep, wide canyon when Roud caught up to Clayburn and Cora.
"I like the looks of this place, Clay. Two ways in or out, both real narrow so they'll be easy to defend. Walls too steep for anybody to come all the way down at us. Nice safe spot to camp in for the night."
"It is," Clayburn agreed. "But it's not where we're camping."
Dusk was growing into night when they emerged from the other end of the canyon, cut to the right, and came to a dead end. The area was hemmed in on three sides by low cliffs, from the base of one of which a spring trickled into a shallow water hole.
Clayburn raised an arm to halt the wagons. "This is it."
Roud stared around them dubiously. "Here? You usually know what you're doing, Clay, but take another look at that cliff rim up there. Be awful easy for anybody coming through the canyon to get up there and pick us off. And just as easy for the rest of Adler's men to come in at us. We'll be boxed in, no way out. It's a death trap."
Clayburn smiled wolfishly. "Looks that way, doesn't it?"
***
Wilks slipped back down the canyon to the horse he'd left hidden behind a group of boulders. He led the horse till he reached the other end of the canyon, well beyond hearing distance of Cora Sorel's outfit. Mounting up, he rode south through the deepening night. He did not push his horse too fast, but let it feel its way over the rock-strewn ground so that it wouldn't trip and break a leg. There was plenty of time. There was the whole long night ahead in which to finish the job.
A little over an hour later he found the place where Adler was waiting with the rest of his men and their horses.
Wilks swung down from his horse to face Adler. "Either you're a mind reader," he told his boss, "or you're mighty damn lucky."
"Talk straight," Adler snapped.
"You couldn't've picked a better night for it. They're camped inside a little box canyon. We won't even have to rush 'em. Just bottle 'em up in there, get our best shots on one of the rims above, and wait for dawn. Come first light, the boys on the rim can start picking them off like shooting ducks in a barrel. The walls're low enough for that, but too steep for anybody to get up at us. They'll only have one way out and the rest of us'll be waiting there for them, nice and safe behind some rocks, to cut 'em down as they come out."
"Sounds easy," Adler said, half to himself.
"A picnic."
"A little too easy."
Wilks laughed softly, his teeth showing in the starlight. "You'd like it better if it was harder?"
Adler nodded slowly. "Maybe. Clayburn's no fool. He got Cora Sorel's wagons across the desert ahead of us. He outwitted you at that stage station…"
"The hell he did," Wilks growled. "I did what I went there to do, didn't I? And got away clean-with all Clayburn's money in the bargain. You should have seen his face when I…"
But Adler was busy with his own thoughts. "If he knows you've been watching them all this time…"
"Not a chance. He didn't spot me once, didn't know I was around."
"You're very sure of that?"
"You just heard me say so. It's not the first
time I've had to trail somebody without being seen, you know."
Adler nodded slowly, "All right. If you're sure. Take the men in. Get it done-and done right."
Wilks regarded him quizzically. "How about you?"
"I'll be here. Waiting."
It surprised Wilks. "How come? Never knew you to be scared to go into a fight before."
"And I'm not now. But this time my only concern is with getting my wagons to Bannock; and making sure mine are the only ones that get there before the snows. If I got myself shot down there'd be no point to any of this. You're the one's so sure this is going to be easy. And you're the one getting the bonus for stopping Cora Sorel's wagons."
"And taking all the chances," Wilks added cheerfully. "Okay. Just be ready to pay me that bonus tomorrow."
He turned from Adler to Benjy, Dillon and the others. "From the marks I saw on some of you I'd say Clayburn and his bunch had a lot of fun with you back in Parrish. Tonight it'll be your turn to have all the fun… Let's go."
***
Ranse Blue found Cora Sorel's wagon camp by the light of its cook fires. He rode in on a tired horse, leading another that looked equally weary, cursing at a guard who demanded that he identify himself as he emerged from the darkness. Clayburn strode to meet him, followed by Cora, Roud and Haycox.
The old buffalo hunter, climbed down stiffly, looked around him at the low cliffs, and scratched his dirty gray whiskers. "Clayburn, you sure picked a helluva spot to receive visitors."
"They're coming?"
Blue turned his face slightly and spat at the ground. "They're comin', all right. Every damn one of 'em, except three Adler left behind with the wagons and mules. A helluva lot more men than we've got. And right now they're all sittin' just about an hour's ride from here. Waitin', I guess, for a fellow I spotted sneaking back down that canyon outside when I was comin' in."
"Did he spot you!" Clayburn asked quietly.
Blue gave him an offended look for an answer.
"Clay," Cora said anxiously, "Roud was right about this being a bad place to camp."
"He didn't say it was a bad place to camp," Clayburn told her. "He said it was a bad place to take an attack. But this isn't where we're going to take it. They've got to come through that long canyon out there to get here."
Roud grinned at him. "You sonuvabitch! I wondered what you were up to."
"Now you know. Get the men started pulling off that brush."
Roud hurried off to attend to the roped bundles of dry-brush and dead twigs that Clayburn had set them to gathering and tying onto the wagons two nights back.
Clayburn turned back to Ranse Blue. "Are Adler's wagons still half a day behind us?"
"Nope. Not no more. Less, now. Adler's mules are fresher than ours. They didn't wear themselves down fightin' through those sand dunes like ours did. They're catchin' up on us. The rate Adler's closin' the distance, he'll be ahead of us again before we reach Bannock."
Haycox gave Clayburn an amused look. "It seems you weren't as smart as you thought."
Clayburn showed no sign of hearing him. "Then the time's come," he told Blue, "to slow Adler up some more. Get four fresh horses. Two for you, two for me. Take them all the way through the canyon and get out of sight with them past the other end. And whatever happens stay there till I come for you. It may take a while."
Blue's wrinkled face glared at him. "You expectin' me to do more riding tonight?"
"Uh-huh."
"Goddamn it, Clayburn, I need some sleep. Ain't had time for more'n a couple hours at a snatch ever since…"
Humor touched the corners of Clayburn's mouth. "Old men don't need much sleep. That's why I hired you. You can grab a nap while you're waiting for me-though it may get a little noisy for you before long."
"You sure expect a man to sweat blood for his pay," Blue complained. But he trudged off to pick out the four horses.
Clayburn's eyes settled on Haycox. "Speaking of pay," he said thinly, "the time's come to start earning yours."
TEN
They entered the long canyon riding two abreast-Wilks and Dillon in the lead, followed by Slope and Benjy with the rest of the men trailing behind, their guns ready. They made a formidable little army, and Wilks had already worked out how he would place each man.
The looming stone walls on either side of him shut out the starlight, making it so dark that Wilks could not see more than a couple feet ahead-and all he could see there was more darkness. And the way in was narrow, made narrower still by the piles of rocks and boulders jumbled against the base of the cliffs. But there was more than enough room for two horses to ride through side by side, and Wilks knew the way. He'd been through it twice while it had still been light, and his sense of direction was a keen one.
The narrow stretch at this end of the canyon was long. Wilks and Dillon were still in it when the two men bringing up the rear came into it. Wilks' thoughts were already farther down the canyon: Halfway through they'd dismount, out of earshot of Cora Sorel's camp. They'd go the rest of the way silently on foot. If they ran into any guards before getting into position the main body of his men would make a rush for it, depending on their superior numbers to get them to the rocks that would be their barricade. Otherwise they would quietly take up their position, ready to shoot down every man and animal trying to break out of the trap. He'd already picked his best marksmen to work their way onto the low cliff overhanging the wagon camp. And once they'd closed the trap…
***
Fifty yards to Wilks' left, Clayburn rested on one knee behind a mass of rock, his carbine cradled in both hands, his finger across the trigger. He couldn't see the riders moving slowly past him, except as shadowy disturbances of the general darkness. But he could hear them plainly, the creak of their leather and clop of their horses hoofs. He held himself in, waiting.
His men were scattered to his right and left behind the rocks. Jim Roud was the nearest to him on one side; Haycox was on his other side, almost in touching distance. It had taken some arguing to keep Cora from being with them. She'd finally settled for joining the two men assigned to the other end of the canyon, to pick off any attackers that got through here. Clayburn did not intend for many to get through.
The stone under his bent knee began to hurt. He did not move. He continued to watch the vague movement through the darkness, listening, waiting tensely…
***
Wilks felt his horse begin to act strangely under him, trying to slow its walking pace. He glanced quickly to his left. But he could see nothing there, not even the rocks at the base of the canyon entrance wall. He stared straight ahead, still saw nothing, and kneed his mount to keep it moving. In the next few seconds they should be out of this narrow stretch…
Then he saw something dead ahead. Nothing he could identify or even be sure was really there. It was only that part of the darkness there looked somehow more solid. Instantly Wilks reined his horse to a stop.
Beside him, Dillon was not so quick. His horse took two more steps forward, head-on into something that crackled and gave resistance. The barrier of ropes and dry brush stretched across the end of the canyon entrance.
Dillon's horse whinnied in fright and reared back from the barrier. The two men Clayburn had waiting there scratched matches on rock. Each set fire to a cloth-wrapped stick soaked in kerosene, and threw it.
Wilks already had his gun in his hand, hammer back, when matches touched kerosene. He fired at the flare of the nearest torch as it was thrown. His shot winged the man who threw it-but both torches fell straight into the middle of the brush barrier.
The next second the brush was on fire, its flames licking skyward, outlining Wilks and his mounted raiders.
***
Clayburn laid his carbine barrel across the top of the rock in front of him and fired at the nearest man revealed to him by the flames. The carbine stock recoiled into his shoulder. The bullet took the raider high on the side of his chest and tore him from his saddle. On either side of Clay
burn the guns of his men crashed out, the barrage thundering against the confines of the canyon walls and slashing the raiding force apart.
Men and horses went down screaming. The orderly two-file line disintegrated into a churning mass of riderless horses, men on foot and still-mounted riders-all tangling with each other in a desperate scramble to get away from the blaze that revealed them to the defenders' gunfire.
The raiders were moving fast now, becoming more difficult targets frequently hidden by milling horses. But some of the defenders were firing at anything that moved, not caring if it was only men they hit. One was Haycox, earning his pay now with a vengeance, firing coolly with either hand. In the brief glimpse that Clayburn caught of him, one of his guns nailed a crawling man flat to the ground and his other gun bowled over a riderless horse stampeding straight at the rocks.
It was a slaughter, not a fight. Some of the raiders tried to shoot back. But they couldn't see what they were shooting at, and the rocks behind which the defenders crouched protected them from blindly fired bullets. Most of the raiders didn't even try. They concentrated on getting out of the canyon mouth, back the way they'd come in.
It was over in minutes. By the time the fast-burning brush consumed itself the last of the raiders were gone-leaving behind only those who would never go anywhere again.
The abrupt cessation of gunfire was a shock. Clayburn drew a hand over his eyes, shook his head to clear it, and climbed over the rocks. By the lowering light of the last flickering flames he moved swiftly among the dead, twice pausing to turn over with the toe of his boot a man who lay face down.
If Adler had been among them, he would have known the trouble was done with. He didn't find Adler. But he did find Benjy and Slope.
Last Train to Bannock [Clayburn 02] Page 7