Brand 9

by Neil Hunter

  Blood.

  As Brand slid from his saddle the stumbling figure toppled forward. First to its knees and then face down in the snow. Brand moved to where the figure lay. He grasped a near-rigid arm and gently rolled the figure over. He sensed Virginia kneeling on the other side, her slender fingers brushing iced snow away from the blistered face. Brand could hear the man’s labored breathing now, a harsh, ragged sound.

  ‘Looks like he’s been out all night,’ Brand said. He could see the dark discoloration of the flesh of the hands. Frostbite. There was nothing they could do for that. He wondered who the poor bastard was? His question was answered by the gasp coming from Virginia.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  Tears gleamed in her eyes as she looked across at him. ‘It’s Jack Bell.’

  Brand stood up, moving away from Virginia and the man called Bell.

  He went to his horse and jerked his blanket roll free, tossing it towards Virginia. She opened the blankets and pulled them across Bell’s body. It was a futile gesture. Brand knew it and he was sure that Virginia realized the hopelessness of it.

  ‘Isn’t there anything we can do for him?’ she asked.

  Brand shook his head. ‘I don’t think he’ll last much longer. It’s a hell of a thing to state, ma’am, but there’s no other way to say it.’

  ‘Poor Jack. I feel so bad just sitting here and not doing anything.’

  As sorry as he was for Bell, Brand’s main concern was his and Virginia’s safety. They were in a bad position on the valley floor. It was too exposed, lacking in any real protective cover.

  ‘What’s going on, Mr. Brand?’ Virginia’s voice revealed her confusion. ‘First that man tries to kill you and now this. I don’t understand.’

  ‘I figure we’ll find that out in Bannock.’ Brand expressed his feelings by his sharp reply, ignoring Virginia’s surprised reaction. He wasn’t overly concerned about her feelings at that precise moment. Their situation didn’t allow time for the finer points of etiquette.

  Neither Brand or Virginia Maitland had the chance to continue the conversation. A group of horsemen had showed on the far rim of the valley. Brand watched them hesitate for a moment and then push their horses on down the slope. They were too far away for him to recognize faces, and though he had no knowledge of them Brand didn’t intend waiting for them to get any closer. He grabbed up the reins of their horses, yanking the motionless animals out of their lethargy.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he snapped.

  Virginia swung her head round, cheeks flaring with color at his impatient tone. About to comment on his manner she stayed silent as her eyes focused on the distant riders. Her eyes settled on Brand’s face, noting the hardness in his features. She stood up and took the reins of her horse.

  ‘What about ...?’

  Brand had jammed his rifle back in its sheath. For a moment he seemed about to argue. Then his shoulders sagged in resignation. Without a word he bent over Jack Bell, took hold of the unconscious man’s coat and hauled him up off the ground. Grunting with the effort he humped Bell across his saddle, bundling the blankets back behind his saddle.

  ‘Satisfied,’ he asked, his voice brittle with agitation.

  Virginia nodded. ‘Thank you, Mr. Brand.’

  ‘Then get your butt in that damn saddle and let’s get the hell out of here.’

  Brand’s horse baulked at having to carry a double load. It changed its mind after Brand gave it a couple of brutal punches between the ears. Brand owed his life to the tenacity of horses he’d had in the past and he wasn’t too keen on hard treatment, but horses, like people, sometimes had to be shaken out of themselves. This was one of those times.

  They moved along the valley floor, their speed reduced by the drifted snow. Virginia rode ahead of Brand, struggling to keep her mount moving. The animal had taken a dislike to the sudden departure and fought against her urging it on. Brand was faring no better. Coupled with trying to maintain a steady pace, he was hampered by the need to keep Jack Bell from slipping from his saddle and also by trying to keep an eye on the bunch of riders. It seemed to Brand that their position had become more than a little difficult.

  The flat sound of a rifle cut through the near silence. The bullet fell yards short, kicking up a geyser of powdered snow. Other shots followed, moving progressively closer as the riflemen found the range. Brand searched the immediate area, seeking anything which might give them a way out of the valley. He knew almost from the start that nothing was going to show. Either they rode on until they reached the natural end of the valley, or they took their horses up the snow-covered slopes. Neither way held much comfort.

  The whip-crack slam of a bullet only inches from Virginia’s horse caused the animal to panic. Despite Virginia’s strong handling it fought against the reins, sidestepping wildly. Brand swore angrily. That was all they needed. He drove his own horse up alongside, grabbing at the reins of Virginia’s animal. He caught a quick glimpse of her white face as she glanced at him. Brand dragged the struggling horse’s head round, keeping his own mount’s body pressed hard against that of the skittish horse. All the time he was increasingly aware of the approach of the group of riders.

  A rifle fired, the sound hard and sharp.

  The horse under Brand shuddered. A shrill sound burst from it. Brand felt it stumble as its hindquarters gave. Brand slid his feet from the stirrups, jumping to the ground as the horse went down. It lay kicking, eyes rolling, blood streaming from a dark hole in its side.

  ‘Get down,’ Brand yelled. He reached up and caught Virginia’s arm, dragging her out of the saddle. Her horse carried on moving. Away from them. Brand turned away from her, ignoring the fact that she had landed face down in the snow. With the knowledge that time was slipping away too quickly Brand crouched by his horse, his cold fingers loosening the thongs holding his saddlebags secure. He dragged the bags free, the canteen, then yanked at the sack holding the food.

  ‘Take them.’ he yelled over his shoulder at Virginia, shoving the things to his rear. Raising his head above the still trembling bulk of the horse Brand snatched his rifle from its sheath. He threw a quick glance across the valley floor towards the advancing riders. The riders, four of them, had reached the base of the slope and were moving along the level ground. They had spread out in a ragged line abreast, and they seemed to be taking their time. Brand watched them, narrowing his eyes against the falling snow.

  ‘Mr. Brand.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  Virginia’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I think Jack is dead.’

  Brand sighed. ‘Make sure one way or the other. We might have to get out of here fast.’

  ‘How?’

  There was no reply. Brand had leaned forward across the downed horse, leveling his rifle. He held still for a moment then pulled the trigger. The rifle spat a lance of flame and powder smoke. Virginia’s eyes were drawn towards the distant horsemen. She felt her body stiffen with shock as one of the riders lurched sideways in his saddle. For a second Virginia thought the man would fall but he made a supreme effort and dragged himself upright again. He sat straight for a moment then sagged forward across his horse’s neck. There was a long moment of stillness, broken when another of the riders returned Brand’s shot. A number of bullets struck the ground around the downed horse. Virginia threw herself to the ground, trembling. When she lifted her head again she saw that the four riders had drawn off a way and were sitting watching. It was almost as if they were waiting for something to happen.

  ‘Ma’am, you all right?’

  Virginia gathered herself. She felt cold, almost sick. She couldn’t trust her voice so she answered Brand’s question with a quick nod. She watched him draw away from the downed horse, saw him bend over Jack Bell’s still body. Only now did she notice the fresh blood marking Bell’s shoulder, more on his hip. She found herself unable to look at his face.

  ‘He’s dead,’ Brand said.

  He didn’t wait for any reaction from Virginia. He wa
s more concerned with the living. Twisting round he peered through the curtain of falling snow and out across the valley floor. The four riders were still in the same place. One of them was at the side of the one Brand had shot, doing something to the man’s shoulder.

  Brand turned about, staring up the steep slope behind them. It was a fair way to the top, and no way of telling what lay beyond. For a brief moment he wondered if he wasn’t crazy in what he was contemplating. There probably was a degree of insanity in his intention but there was little else they could do. They had four armed men on their heels, only one horse - which had already wandered away from them he noticed with irritation - and nowhere to go except up that damned slope. On foot too, he realized sourly. He thought back to that moment in Butte when he’d left the comforting warmth of that restaurant to follow Virginia Maitland. He’d done it on impulse, sure that she was going to have some kind of trouble, and because of his own boredom he’d involved himself in her business. Maybe that crack on the head had done more than just take away his memory. It looked as if it might have impaired his judgment because he’d really picked a poor hand this time.

  ‘Well, Mr. Brand, what do we do? Sit here and freeze.’

  He stared at her. Virginia’s voice trembled as she spoke and her face looked ghastly pale. But he sensed the strength behind the momentary fear.

  ‘No, ma’am,’ he said. He crawled towards her, picking up the saddlebags he’d dumped in the snow and draping them over his shoulder. ‘Can you manage that sack and the canteen?’

  Virginia nodded.

  ‘I’m only going to get a chance to say this once, so you listen. When I give the word, we make a run up that slope. You go first and you keep going. If you fall down get up and keep going. Never mind about me. Just keep movin’. Understand?’

  ‘Yes, Mr. Brand, I understand.’

  ‘There’s liable to be some shooting. I ain’t expecting it to the easy for you but try not to pay any attention. Just keep goin’. No matter what you hear. Right?’

  Her wide-eyed stare was disconcerting. Brand realized she was probably scared witless. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath and reached out to pat her hand.

  A shot rang out. Nearby a horse screamed in pain. Brand jerked his head round and saw Virginia’s go down in a threshing heap, pink stains in the snow.

  ‘No.’

  Virginia’s cry fed his anger, and Brand rose to one knee. He lifted his rifle and drove a couple of shots at the distant riders. His aim was off and the bullets struck the snow a few feet short. One of the riders found himself struggling to control a frightened animal. The horse reared suddenly, dumping the rider in the snow.

  The distraction his shots caused would only be brief Brand knew. Even so those few seconds could be worth a lot. He rolled back to where Virginia crouched.

  ‘Now,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

  She didn’t hesitate. Picking up the sack of food and canteen Virginia rose to her feet and ran. Stumbling and slipping, floundering in the drifted snow, she made for the slope. Brand followed, thumbing fresh shells into the breech of his rifle. He had a feeling he was going to be needing it.

  He’d only just reached the base of the slope when the first shots sounded. A bullet thumped into the ground close to his left. Another plucked at his coat. Brand turned and raised his rifle. He could see the riders coming across the level ground, firing as they came. They were at a disadvantage. Shooting from the back of a running horse wasn’t the best way to hit a target. Brand picked the lead rider. Just as he touched the trigger he became aware that it was the man he’d shot earlier. This time it was a killing shot. The bullet took the man in the chest, rolling him off the back of his horse and dumping him face down the snow. Shifting his aim Brand fired twice more. One bullet missed. The last one dropped a running horse, spilling the rider out of the saddle. The man slid for yards across the hard ground before he was able to control his movements. He finally gained his feet and scrambled to get control of the horse belonging to the man Brand had shot out of the saddle. He hauled himself onto the animal and reined it about. All three riders separated, falling back out of range, though they returned Brand’s fire with a fusillade of wasted shots.

  Facing about Brand moved on up the slope. He could see Virginia above him. She appeared to be doing as he’d suggested, paying no mind to what was taking place below.

  The crack of a rifle reminded Brand of the men still able to use their guns. He dug in his toes, thrusting himself forward. The thick snow made moving difficult. Brand found he was often sliding back a foot for every two he moved forward. Despite the cold he began to sweat. His clothing stuck to his body. More shots sounded. Bullets drove into the slope around him. Then Brand heard a cry. He looked up to where Virginia had fallen to her knees. A cold sweat beaded his face as he struggled towards her. By the time he reached her Virginia was pushing to her feet.

  ‘You hurt?’ he asked brusquely.

  She gave him one of her spirited looks. ‘I’ll manage, Mr. Brand. Thank you for your concern.’ She to her feet and moved on. Brand caught a glimpse of blood staining the sleeve of her coat just below her left elbow.

  He turned again to look down on the valley floor. The remaining three riders were urging their mounts up the slope. Brand loosed off three quick shots and saw them scatter, struggling to control panicked horses.

  The rest of the journey up the valley side took place in fits and starts. Brand took every opportunity to keep the three riders at a safe distance. He used the advantage of the steep slope, and by the time he and Virginia had pulled themselves over the crest of the slope, the riders had only managed to gain the first few yards of the climb.

  Brand dropped to his knees beside Virginia. They were both breathing hard, their bodies aching from the effort of dragging themselves up the steep slope. Even during the brief rest Brand took time to reload his rifle. He became aware of Virginia’s close observance.

  ‘I believe, Mr. Brand, that this kind of situation is not new to you,’ she said. She watched the sure way his fingers fed fresh shells into the rifle. He was a man to whom guns were as natural as brushes to an artist. In a way that was how she saw him. He was an artist but his art was that of killing.

  Chapter Eight

  Brand thrust a final shell into his rifle and worked the lever. He glanced across to where Virginia had slumped in the snow, her hand cupped over the bloodstained sleeve of her coat. Her head lifted and she stared at him, her eyes reflecting the jumbled thoughts she carried in her mind.

  ‘Is this really happening, Mr. Brand?’ she asked. Her voice held a dull near-panic tone. ‘It’s like some nightmare. Jack Bell dead. Armed men chasing us. Killing. Tell me how this can happen.’

  ‘Ain’t uncommon out here,’ Brand said. ‘You’re not in England now. Country’s wild and so are its ways.’ He climbed to his feet. ‘When we got the time I’ll discuss it with you. Best thing we can do right now is get the hell away from here. I stopped one of those fellers but there’re still three more. I don’t figure they’ll feel like discussing anything either.’

  Virginia stood up, trailing the food sack and canteen in the snow. Standing before Brand she appeared small and childlike in her bulky clothes. She waited for him to tell her what to do.

  ‘First chance we have to rest I’ll look at that arm,’ Brand said.

  Virginia nodded. ‘Thank you, Mr. Brand.’

  He pointed out across the snowy landscape. ‘We’ll go that way,’ he said. ‘Looks as if we’ll have some cover anyway. And the name’s Jason,’ he added. ‘Time we dropped this formal stuff.’

  A quick smile ghosted across Virginia’s pale face but it was lost to Jason Brand. He had already turned away, trudging doggedly across the white, unmarked snow. Virginia shrugged and followed him.

  They moved slowly away from the valley edge, their passage taking them towards a straggling line of trees that marched up a long slope. Once in amongst the trees they were able to move a l
ittle faster. The snow wasn’t as deep in amongst the timber. It was dark, deep shadows cutting across their path. It seemed quieter too. The dense timber and the soft earth beneath the snow helped to silence the sound of their movement. Once or twice the cathedral hush was broken by the hissing sound of layered snow falling from the upper branches of tall trees. The first time it happened Virginia felt herself tense up, her body aching with a near-paralyzing shock.

  As they started to work their way up the slope, huge, tumbled boulders barred their way, looming gray and white among the timber. Thick, tangled masses of fern and wild thorn grew over and around the rocks, making the way through a painful process. Virginia found herself accepting each new difficulty as it came, without complaint, even to herself. She just had no energy, or desire to make any protest against this situation. Incredible as it was, in complete contrast to her normal way of life, it didn’t seem to matter. She was here, she was involved, and the only way to get herself out was by seeing it through to its conclusion - whatever that might he.

  Without warning Brand turned about. His gaunt face held a bitter expression and Virginia heard him swear softly as he went on by her. As she turned herself, casting her gaze back along the way they’d come, she saw the dark shapes of mounted men moving through the timber below.

  ‘Keep moving,’ Brand told her. ‘And stay low if you can.’ He didn’t look to see if she’d done as he’d told her. His eyes were fixed on the three riders. A cold gleam came into his eyes as he watched the trio split up, each man making his own trail. They were getting smart. Making it harder for him to watch them all. Brand sank down behind a flat slab of stone, resting his rifle across the top. He let the three riders come on. Minutes slid by. Brand didn’t move until he could hear the closest of the riders.

  The soft creak of leather. Metallic chinks from loose harness. He edged along the rock, twisting his body so that he would be able to see the rider.