The Killing Blow

by J. R. Roberts

  The part that got under Clint’s skin the most was how he could spend time riding alongside a killer without knowing it. After priding himself for so long regarding how well he could sum up another person, Clint felt the sting of being tricked extra hard.

  Going along with that was the fact that he’d had his own suspicions the entire time. If he’d done something about it sooner, perhaps things could have gone differently. Finally, he decided to cut himself some slack and admit there wasn’t anything he could have done that would have made a damn bit of difference.

  At the time, he had no reason to step in on Josh’s behalf. Whoever those other men were that rode with Josh, they meant to shoot Clint and there was no other way around it.

  Mark Ordell had, albeit unintentionally, saved Clint’s life along with the lives of Allison and her son. Clint needed to remind himself of that just to ease the guilt, which panged at the bottom of his stomach like a hot fist punching him again and again.

  The more he looked back on it, the more Clint realized he would have done the same thing and the same people would still have wound up dead. That was the part that stuck under his skin most of all.

  After taking Lisa Ordell back to her house, Clint went to the first saloon he could find that was within walking distance of his hotel. He stood at that bar and thought about ordering a whiskey just to make it easier for him to get some sleep.

  But by the time the barkeep asked what he wanted, Clint requested a beer. The rage was subsiding and the churning in his gut was going away thanks to the decision he’d made to get to the bottom of all the bloody stories he’d been hearing by finding Mark Ordell.

  There were also those other men who’d ridden away to raise whatever hell they liked after allowing Lisa Ordell to get by them. Clint knew damn well there was plenty that they weren’t telling him.

  “Here’s your beer,” the barkeep said as he set the mug down in front of Clint.

  “Thanks,” Clint said. “By the way. Have you ever heard the name Ed Gray?”

  Reflexively, the barkeep pulled in a quick breath and winced. “You heard about what happened to Ed? I guess a story like that would tend to travel a ways.”

  “What’s your version?”

  “I didn’t know him very well, but he seemed like a good enough sort. He came in here every now and then to uh . . . indulge.” When he said that last part, the barkeep nodded toward the other end of the room.

  Clint looked over there and immediately picked out a set of three girls clad in low-cut dresses who were more than willing to give him a better glance once they saw him look their way. After waving to the working girls, Clint turned back around toward the barkeep.

  “Someone found Ed in the woods,” the barkeep said. “Cut open from top to bottom. Damn Injuns. There was a price put on their scalps by the law, but that came only after some locals threatened to take things in their own hands.”

  “Who paid the bounty?”

  “Same locals. It’s always easier to fork out some money than to get your own hands dirty.”

  “I suppose so.” Clint took a drink of his beer and asked, “Who collected the reward?”

  “Same fellow that collected on that bear skin hanging down the street.”

  After everything else, Clint wasn’t too surprised to hear that.

  As a group of loud mill workers stomped into the place, the barkeep excused himself and tended to the fresh batch of customers.

  The beer helped calm Clint’s nerves and the one after it helped him get some sleep. Before he went to bed that night, Clint had his things packed and ready to go for an early morning ride.

  Clint was up before the sun rose the next day. He saddled up Eclipse and rode into the woods as the sky was just shifting from purple to blue. The air was crisp and still damp from the night before, which got Clint’s blood racing through his veins.

  It took a while before Clint was able to enjoy the weather. In fact, he took the first few hours of his ride to sort through everything that had happened so he could try and make some sense of it all. One thing was perfectly clear: it was all one hell of a mess.

  The only thing he could be certain about was that he’d be glad when it was all straightened out.

  The trees closed in quickly on either side of the trail. Before too long at all, Clint was hard-pressed to recall that there was a town anywhere in the vicinity. All that lumber rising up around him felt like a wall and the branches stretched out over his head were thicker than most roofs. He was no stranger to the woods, but he already knew that Mark Ordell was perfectly at home in them.

  Thinking back to how the older man had moved when he was after that bear, Clint barely recalled Ordell making a sound. In fact, he’d seemed out of his element when he had paved road or wooden slats under his feet. The woods were most definitely Ordell’s home.

  If half the things Clint had heard about Ordell were true, he wasn’t exactly a man to take trespassing lightly.

  Clint snapped the reins and rode on.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The days wore on and Clint only covered a fraction of the miles he would have covered if he had simply been trying to get from one spot to another. First of all, he was moving through a section of woods that only got thicker as he drew closer to the border of Oregon Territory. Nearly half the time, he was forced to walk and lead Eclipse by the reins due to thick tangles of branches that hung down to within a foot or two of his head.

  Secondly, he wasn’t just trying to get from one spot to another. He wanted to get to the cabin that Lisa Ordell had described before her brother Mark got there. Clint had no way of knowing for certain that Mark was headed in that direction, but it was the best lead he had. Actually, it was the only lead since Mark Ordell had vanished after putting Westerlake behind him.

  Clint had tracked his share of men, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think he was better at it than Mark Ordell, himself. He knew damn well that Ordell wouldn’t leave any tracks if he didn’t want to. Besides, the woods were such a mess of fallen branches, logs, leaves and animal tracks that Clint doubted he could find his pocket watch if he dropped it. Trying to pick out one man’s trail would have been like trying to find a specific needle in a stack of more needles.

  To that end, Clint tried to move as quickly as he could while doing his best to keep from being spotted himself. As he traveled, he kept a weapon in his hand at all times. Whether it was his rifle or pistol, Clint was always armed and expecting to be approached at any second.

  There was no telling if Ordell was still in a sociable mood. At the end of the day, Clint still wanted to straighten out what he’d heard before simply believing it all and gunning for Ordell like those who’d already taken on that job.

  Before leaving town, Clint had asked around a few places and found out that the mountain man and his two Indian partners had headed in the same direction that Clint had chosen. When he heard the snapping of twigs coming from somewhere ahead, Clint brought Eclipse to a stop and listened.

  Sure enough, he heard a few horses stomping over what had to be some fallen logs. Clint wrapped Eclipse’s reins loosely around a tree and circled around the source of those sounds. Just as he was about to take another step, he spotted a section of bushes moving against the flow of the wind.

  He crouched down behind a tree trunk and froze.

  That subtle bit of movement, which didn’t match the way the rest of the bushes were moving, had been enough to mark the spot where one of the Indians stepped onto the narrow trail. He was the bigger of the two that had been with the mountain man and he stalked through the bushes like a creature half his size.

  Clint had to hold his breath and focus on moving nothing more than his eyelids as he peeked around the tree. His muscles tensed and his heart sped up at the notion that he might be discovered any second. The Indian, however, moved effortlessly from one spot to another, gazing around with sharply focused eyes.

  As Clint watched him, he remembered the mountain man calling t
hat Indian Crow. As if living up to his name, the Indian glided past a branch where other birds were nesting without making enough noise to even draw their attention.

  Clint’s grip tightened around his rifle as Crow stepped behind one tree and practically disappeared from sight. When Crow reappeared, he was holding a tomahawk in his hand while carefully studying a spot not too far from where Clint was hiding.

  And, like a bird that suddenly decided to take flight, Crow snapped his head in another direction and was gone.

  Clint didn’t dare move right away. For all he knew, Crow was circling around him from another direction. Possibly, the Indian was gathering up his partners before making his move. Or maybe he’d already moved along to another spot.

  Clint still wasn’t sure whether or not the mountain man and his partners could be trusted. He didn’t even know what they might do if they spotted him. What he did know was that they would be a lot more use to him if Clint could see what they were doing without them knowing they were being watched.

  More importantly, Clint’s instinct told him to give those men a wide berth unless he wanted another fight. They’d already stepped up to him once with guns drawn. The next time was bound to end up a whole lot messier.

  Clint had plenty of time to think about these things while waiting to hear or see another sign of Crow. All he heard was the wind rustling through the trees and all he saw was hundreds of branches swaying to a rhythm of their own.

  TWENTY-THREE

  As Clint headed back to where he’d left Eclipse, he stayed low and kept his rifle at the ready. The Darley Arabian was waiting patiently as if he knew only too well how important it was that he stay quiet. Eclipse barely even made a sound as Clint took his reins and led him back along the path they’d already taken.

  As night drew closer, it was easier for Clint to find the other three men. The woods were getting denser to the north and it was impossible for three men to move through them without making a sound, no matter how skilled they were.

  After tying Eclipse up again and scouting ahead on his own, Clint caught sight of a tiny flicker of light. He crawled on his belly through a thick mess of weeds and bottom-dwelling insects before finally catching sight of the other men’s campfire.

  The mountain man and Crow were huddled over the flame, which was barely large enough to produce enough heat to warm their hands. Something was cooking over the flame and after all the crawling he’d done, Clint looked at that cooking critter as if it were a king’s feast.

  He was forced to lie there and watch those two men eat their supper for half an hour. Clint knew there was another Indian somewhere out there. Since he hadn’t felt a knife in his back or been dragged off his feet just yet, Clint assumed he hadn’t been spotted. That meant he had to stay put until he spotted that other Indian.

  Finally, like a bobcat slinking in from the shadows, the other Indian stepped into the dim glow of the campfire and sat down. He spoke in a voice too soft for Clint to hear, while glancing up anxiously at every flutter of a bird’s wing or rustle of a leaf.

  The first opportunity Clint got to move was when the Indian stopped talking and started eating. Slowly, Clint backed away.

  As hungry and cold as Clint was, he knew better than to build a fire when he got back to the spot where he’d left Eclipse. Even a flame half the size of the three men’s paltry cooking fire would probably be enough to catch their attention.

  Before long, Clint realized that just sleeping too close to their camp was taking a hell of a risk. Ignoring the gnawing in his belly and the chill digging underneath his skin, Clint took Eclipse’s reins and led the stallion even farther back along the tracks they’d already put down.

  He found a nice spot just over a quarter mile away that backed against a cluster of trees; not even a snake could get through. In front of him were more trees and bushes that started to look like one solid wall to Clint’s tired eyes.

  In the end, he wound up sitting with his back propped against a rock and a stick of jerked beef in his hand. He was almost too tired to chew the leathery meat, but it still felt good to get something in his stomach. With his rifle laying across his lap and his hand upon the grip of his Colt, Clint allowed his eyes to close and he drifted off to sleep.

  Clint’s eyes snapped open and his fingers tightened reflexively around the rifle when he heard something moving nearby. Even though his blood was racing in his veins thanks to the way he’d been pulled from his sleep, Clint felt as though he couldn’t have drifted off for more than a few minutes.

  Taking a glance upward, however, he saw the first hints of dawn spreading across the sky. Clint noticed Eclipse not too far away. It was clear the stallion wasn’t in the spot from which the noise had come.

  After getting his legs beneath him, Clint worked his way across the small clearing and into the thicker trees. Once there, he stopped and focused his eyes and ears to take in everything around him.

  Although more birds and animals were moving about in the early hour of the new day, Clint couldn’t hear anything big enough to cause him any concern.

  He could see even less.

  The trees were just as gnarled as they’d been the previous night and the ground was covered with just as much mulch. Other than that, the only difference was the hazy light filtering in through the branches over his head.

  Clint thought back to what he’d heard and knew something had been stalking him. Something bigger than a rabbit or possum had made that noise, he was sure of it. For the moment, however, it was gone.

  Realizing he had to be even more careful than he’d been before, Clint went back to the clearing, had a quick meal of dried oats for breakfast and got to work catching up with those other three men.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Clint caught sight of the other Indian fairly early in the morning. With more than enough time to think, he remembered the mountain man calling that one Three. All Clint had to do was watch Three for a few minutes to figure out which way the Indian was traveling. After that, he led Eclipse a little ways back and then climbed into his saddle.

  The woods had thinned out to make way for another section of Snake River. Now that he’d gotten a little breathing room as well as the noise of running water to cover him, Clint rode along the river and headed north into Oregon Territory.

  Once he’d ridden for a few miles and figured he’d put some distance between himself and those Indians, Clint dismounted just long enough to do some hunting. He had no trouble whatsoever killing a few rabbits and he slung the animals over his saddle before moving on. The hardest part was not stopping right away to cook up the fresh meat.

  When he did stop for the night, Clint made sure there was enough light in the sky to be of some use. There wasn’t much more than a dark orange glow overhead, but it was bright enough that he didn’t have to build a fire to see. He did pile up some rocks around a small pit which he dug out of the dirt to make a fire just large enough to cook the rabbits.

  After getting some real food in his belly, Clint began to feel like a human being again rather than some animal scampering through the woods. Things were easier to see and his thoughts became much clearer as well.

  All in all, he was doing fairly well. He should be able to reach the cabin the next day, which also meant Ordell shouldn’t be too far away. If the other man didn’t show up, Clint could always head for the nearest town with a telegraph office and ask Lisa Ordell for any more ideas.

  For the moment, however, Clint was satisfied with what he was doing. He’d gotten the taste of that jerky out of his mouth and was convinced he’d gotten ahead of the mountain man and his two Indian partners. Clint even managed to wash his clothes in the river since they were caked with enough dirt and ants to start his own colony.

  Letting out a breath and feeling the warm air brush over his chest, Clint actually started to let his muscles relax. Before he could get too comfortable, he heard the familiar sound of something moving through the trees. In fact, it reminded him of
the very same sound that had woken him up that morning.

  This time, Clint didn’t act as if he’d heard it. He stayed right beside the cooking pit and prodded the piece of rabbit he was roasting as if nothing else was on his mind. Absently reaching for his canteen, Clint drew his pistol instead and twisted around to get a look behind him.

  He found a slender, dark-skinned woman behind him, frozen like a deer caught in a hunter’s sights.

  “Come here,” Clint ordered.

  The woman did so without question. She was crouched down so low that her long, coal-black hair nearly brushed against the ground. Over her shoulder, there was a leather pouch decorated by a few beaded designs. Her clothes were made from smooth animal hides, which wrapped around her body like a second skin.

  Her eyes were deep, dark brown and wide without displaying fear. The color of her skin as well as the angles of her features marked her clearly as an Indian. She moved toward Clint while straightening up just a bit until she saw Clint motion for her to stop.

  “Who else is with you?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Nobody. I am alone.”

  “And you’re just wandering around out here all by yourself?”

  “Right now . . . yes. That is, until I found you.”

  “How’d you find me?”

  “I saw you before,” she said. “You rode away and I didn’t find you again until now.”

  “So you’ve been following me?”

  “Just for the day.”

  “Why?” Clint asked.

  She looked away from him and started to sit down. Before settling in, however, she looked back up to Clint. He nodded and sat down as well since there wasn’t a sign of anyone else in the area.

  “Crow is my brother,” she said. “I came to bring him food and blankets because the nights are getting cold.”

  “So he knows I’m here?” Clint asked, already dreading the answer.

  To his surprise, she shook her head. “I did not tell him because they might hurt you if they knew you were near. They asked if I had seen a white man when I brought the food, but that was before I saw you. I know who the man is that they seek and it’s not you.”