The Killing Blow

by J. R. Roberts

  “I know what happened!” Crow snarled. “And if I am here to avenge my family, I will not stand by to let you rut in the dirt with my sister like some kind of dog.”

  “Nobody forced anything to happen, Crow. Don’t you force this or you won’t like how it turns out.”

  But the Indian’s eyes were wild and he now had his tomahawk up to cock it back. “I cannot see Ordell, but his time will come. I can see you right now and I won’t wait one more minute to deal with you.”

  Opening his hands, Clint let the rifle slip from his grasp and drop to the ground at his feet. “If you want me to fight, you’ll have to wait. I know you’re not the sort of man to attack an unarmed man.”

  If Clint’s gesture had any effect, it was impossible to say. In fact, it seemed as if Crow hadn’t even noticed that Clint’s hands were now empty and held out to either side.

  Clint tried to think of what he could say to calm the Indian down. The longer he looked at the wild expression on Crow’s face, the more Clint realized there was nothing he or anyone else could say to smooth things over. All Clint could hope for was that Crow would put this aside until he was thinking clearer.

  That hope was quickly shattered.

  Crouching down while taking a step back, Crow snapped his arm back by his ear like a catapult getting ready to spring. He let out a battle cry and started bringing his arm forward, leaving Clint no other choice but to draw his Colt.

  Clint leaned to one side as his hand flashed down to his holster. Even though he meant to dodge Crow’s tomahawk, he cleared leather before the weapon even left Crow’s hand.

  The Colt barked once and sent its lead through the air.

  Crow reeled back with his arms flying to either side and his fist still wrapped around his tomahawk. One shoulder smacked against a tree, sending him sideways to the ground. The Indian landed behind a bush and remained motionless.

  After waiting a few seconds, Clint angrily shoved his Colt back into its holster and snatched up his rifle. “Goddamnit, Crow,” he growled under his breath.

  Since there wasn’t anything else for him to do, Clint continued on his search and headed north.

  FORTY-ONE

  Rain sat huddled in the bushes, too frightened to move a muscle. She crouched like a rabbit that was seconds away from getting its head caught between the teeth of a wolf, praying that she would go unnoticed.

  She’d heard Clint talking to her brother and meant to step in. After hearing the edge in Crow’s voice, however, she knew better than to try and calm him down. He would only have pushed her aside and told her to leave. No matter how much she would have tried to beg Clint to step back and make peace, she doubted he would have listened.

  Both men had had their minds made up and there was nothing to be done about it.

  All Rain could do was stay hidden and watch as the two men butted heads. When she’d heard the shot from Clint’s Colt, every muscle in her body had jumped. Her hands snapped up to cover her mouth before she made a noise or cried out.

  Her hands were still pressed against her mouth when she looked over to see another figure huddled in the brush.

  Mark Ordell crouched down until he barely seemed to take up more space than Rain. His hat was drawn down tightly over his head, leaving nothing but the tip of his nose and a tangle of beard to protrude from beneath it. One hand was resting upon his knee and the other held his rifle just an inch or two off the ground, so most of the long barrel and stock was beneath the top of the grass.

  The hunter didn’t move in the slightest. Rain watched and waited to see if he would attack or try to pounce on her, but the man simply didn’t budge. The only way she’d noticed him there was because he was a shape in her line of sight that hadn’t been there the last time she’d checked.

  Even though his eyes were mostly hidden from her view, she could tell he was watching Clint intently. His posture leaned toward the spot where Clint stood as if he were about to spring forward at any moment.

  Even though his beard covered his mouth, Rain could tell Ordell was smiling. The curve of his face was shifted upward and, if she watched carefully, she could see the hairs closest to his lips moving with his silent laughter.

  When Ordell moved, it almost made Rain jump. She’d been watching him so closely that she’d stopped expecting him to budge.

  Ordell’s head barely shifted. It was barely half a twitch, but the twitch was in her direction. That was more than enough to tell Rain that she’d been spotted.

  Slowly, Ordell shifted to look at her face-to-face.

  Rain felt a cold knot form in her stomach when she saw the way Ordell’s beard had been torn apart on the left side of his face to reveal a twisted, bloody stretch of gnarled skin. The wound looked even worse due to the blood that was still clumped into his beard like an extension of the gash itself.

  Ordell raised the hand from his knee, held up one finger and then held that finger to his lips.

  Rain did what she was told and stayed quiet as Ordell shifted and moved away.

  FORTY-TWO

  Clint rarely thought about the odds of himself surviving a fight. Doing so was a good way for a man to get himself killed. Quite simply, the odds never favored a man when he drew his gun or took his knife from its sheath. There were a hundred things that could go wrong and any one of them could cost a hell of a lot.

  But as he made his way through the woods and examined every blade of grass for a snare, Clint had more than enough time to think about his odds. No matter how much he had in his favor, there was no possible way the odds could go his way.

  This was Ordell’s battleground and Clint was a damn fool to fight him there. Unfortunately, Clint also knew that if he didn’t face Ordell here and now, he might never catch up to the hunter again.

  Ordell could come and go as he pleased and if he decided to disappear, Clint could only rely upon a miracle to finish up this business. After all the blood Ordell had spilled for little or no reason at all, there was no way Clint was about to let the man get away with it.

  Even though it meant playing Ordell’s game on his own ground, Clint couldn’t just walk away. The only way for him to have anything at all in his favor was to try and push a few of his own rules into the game. Even then, he wondered if he could win.

  The steps he heard coming from behind him were rushed and close together. Clint’s first instinct was that it was an animal that had been flushed out to run in his direction. When he heard the breathing coming from the one making those steps, Clint knew it wasn’t from any animal.

  Turning around, Clint sighted along his rifle and lowered himself to one knee. When Rain came into view, Clint met her like a one-man firing squad.

  “Is anyone behind you?” Clint asked without taking the rifle from his shoulder.

  Rain was breathless as she kept running. Even seeing the gun in Clint’s hands wasn’t enough to make her slow down until she was close enough to hold him. “I don’t think he’s chasing me, but he was right there.”

  “Ordell?”

  “Yes. He was right there and I didn’t know until it was too late.”

  “Where was he?” Clint asked. “Where were you, for that matter?”

  “I wasn’t far from where you were talking to my brother. I heard the shot and I heard someone fall and—”

  Taking hold of Rain by her shoulder, Clint grabbed her tightly and forced her to look directly into his eyes. When she still kept looking around wildly, he gave her a gentle shake and asked, “Where was he?”

  “He was listening to you.”

  “How much did he hear?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see him at first but then he was just . . . there. I didn’t even hear him coming.”

  “Did he try to hurt you?” Clint asked.

  Rain pulled in a deep breath and forced herself to let it out slowly. Once she did, she felt Clint’s hand loosen from around her arm. “He didn’t try to hurt me. He didn’t even come near me. All he did was look at me an
d . . .” As she spoke, Rain pictured Ordell in her mind. The wound on his face seemed even more gruesome and she imagined what his eyes must have looked like under the brim of his hat.

  “And what?” Clint asked.

  Lifting a trembling finger to her lips, Rain imitated what Ordell had done. “He did that,” she said. “And then he left. Once I knew he wasn’t coming for me, I ran.”

  “Was he hurt?”

  That snapped her out of the nightmarish visions flowing through her head. Her eyes snapped back into focus and she looked at Clint. “Yes. His face was bloody.”

  “Could it have been a bullet wound?”

  “Yes. That must have been where you shot him.”

  “I know. I was kind of hoping for something a little better.”

  “It looked pretty bad.”

  Clint shrugged. “Didn’t seem to slow him down at all. Besides, someone like Ordell probably wears his scars like medals.”

  Rain was quiet for a few seconds as Clint started walking along his route. She kept up with him easily and even began looking for traces of Ordell along with him. Before too long, she asked, “Where is my brother?”

  “You said you were there. Didn’t you see where he went?”

  Rain shook her head. “I heard the shot and I heard someone fall. All I could see was a few shapes on the other side of the trees.”

  “We shouldn’t be talking about this now,” Clint told her.

  Nodding slowly, Rain kept pace with Clint for a few more minutes. Suddenly, she stopped and held out an arm to get Clint to do the same thing.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She silenced him with a sharply raised hand. Holding her head up toward the tops of the trees, Rain eventually closed her eyes completely so she could focus entirely on the sounds around them. When she opened her eyes again, she lowered her hand and then pointed off the trail to the west.

  Recognizing the haunted look in Rain’s eyes, Clint brought his rifle up and whispered, “Do you hear him?”

  She nodded, but only hesitantly. That was enough for Clint to know that she wasn’t entirely certain about her warning.

  A week ago, Clint never would have been able to hear the subtle shifting of something in the bushes that he could right now. It was a sound that would have been mistaken for the wind blowing through leaves to the inexperienced ear. This sound had some weight behind it, though. It was a small yet important difference that he’d been forced to recognize during the course of Ordell’s hunt.

  Running the tip of his finger along his rifle’s trigger, Clint waited to hear that sound again. When he did, he sighted a few paces ahead of it and fired.

  That shot was answered by an even louder shot, which was unmistakably from Ordell’s rifle.

  Clint dropped to one knee and pushed Rain behind him. “Get out of here and find someplace safe to hide.”

  “When should I come for you?”

  “As soon as the shooting stops.”

  FORTY-THREE

  Rather than play mouse to Ordell’s cat, Clint gritted his teeth and made his best guess as to where Ordell was hiding. He then fired in that direction while running to the southwest. He stuck to the trails as much as possible. Every so often, he heard another shot from the hunter’s rifle whip through the air.

  There were times when Ordell would stop shooting, but Clint knew better than to relax. Instead, he kept firing and heading southwest. When he didn’t have a notion as to where Ordell was, Clint fired into the air just to cover the sound of his own footsteps.

  Finally, he made it back to a bend in the river, which was the biggest open spot he’d found in all the time he’d been in those woods. Clint got behind the biggest rock he could find and quickly reloaded his rifle.

  “What’s the matter, Clint?” Ordell shouted from somewhere close by. “You gettin’ tired?”

  “Actually, I’m getting thirsty. Why don’t you come on over and we can have a drink?”

  Ordell’s laughter echoed over the water, making it difficult for his position to be nailed down. “I’ll have my drink after the hunt’s over, but I’ll be sure to raise a glass in your name.”

  “What the hell did I ever do to you, Ordell? You want your reward money? All you had to do was ask.”

  “It ain’t about the money. It’s about this. Can’t you feel it, Clint? Can’t you feel the blood runnin’ through yer veins like wildfire? There ain’t nothing like this!”

  “So that means you’re just crazy, then,” Clint said. “I guess I can’t say I’m too surprised.”

  This time, when Ordell spoke, it was from a slightly different angle. “You should take this as a compliment. You’re one of the few men to ever draw my blood during one of these excursions. That ain’t no small feat.”

  “Yeah. I’m honored.” Clint shifted around the rock a bit, doing his best to keep as much stone between him and Ordell.

  “Huntin’ wanted men was always good for sport, but they were too easy. They’d been runnin’ fer too long and were already tired. Most of ’em wanted to be caught anyhow. This is like a gift, Clint. It makes a man appreciate his life more.”

  “So if I just thanked you for the lesson and praised my new outlook on life, you’d just let me go?”

  There was a few moments of silence before Ordell spoke again. “Nah,” he said. “I guess I wouldn’t.”

  After that, another shot from Ordell’s rifle blasted through the air. Even though Clint couldn’t see a single trace of the hunter, the shot Ordell fired sparked against the rock a few inches from Clint’s head. Clint reflexively ducked and scooted around the rock before getting a look at the spot that had been hit.

  “You still there, Clint?” Ordell shouted.

  Clint bit his tongue and shook his head, cursing himself for playing Ordell’s game once more. Even though he didn’t have much choice at the moment, he still hated giving the hunter another free shot at him.

  Just then, Ordell fired again. This time, however, it wasn’t at Clint.

  The big rifle sent its round through hanging branches and across the river like the end of a drill. Clint could practically feel the lead pass by, but it was too far off the mark to have been meant for him. He looked in the direction the bullet had gone and was just in time to see a few quick shots fired from that side of the river.

  Holding his rifle in front of him, Howlett ran as quickly as he could. His movements made his limp even worse, but he managed to get to where Clint was huddled without falling into the river.

  “About time you showed up,” Clint said. “I’ve nearly made enough noise to get myself killed.”

  “Looks like he nearly got you pegged,” Howlett said between breaths.

  “Yeah, but he’s farther away than I thought,” Clint said in a voice that was soft enough to keep from carrying too far.

  “How can you tell?”

  “The spot where that bullet hit. If he’d been closer, it would have blasted out a bigger piece of rock. This bullet just made a crack.”

  When Howlett looked at the chipped section of rock, he let out a low whistle and shook his head. “Still looks like a nasty piece of work to me.”

  “It is.”

  “How far away you reckon he is?”

  “I’d say about a hundred yards across the river.”

  “A hundred yards?” Howlett grumbled as another shot blazed from across the river.

  Not only was this shot closer than the last, but it punched a deeper gouge into the rock.

  “Make that about sixty yards now,” Clint said.

  “Hey there, Howlett,” Ordell shouted. “You havin’ as much fun as I am?”

  “Fuck you!”

  Ordell’s laughter rolled toward the river and slowly faded away. “Too bad about yer Indian friend. He had some real promise. Or didn’t you know about that?”

  “What’s he talkin’ about?” Howlett asked.

  “Just what we talked about before. Right now, we need to get out from behind thi
s rock. He’s playing with us now, but he’ll either force us out when he’s ready or he’ll chip pieces of this thing away until we’re sitting in the open.”

  “What do you propose we do? We can’t even see the bastard!”

  “You see those two trees that formaVback there?” Clint asked. “Ordell’s got to be in those trees or near them.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Same way he knew where to aim at us. By the sound of his voice.”

  “Dammit. My ears must not be what they used to.”

  “You’re going to have to trust me, then,” Clint said. “All we need to do is stick to our original plan.”

  Howlett pulled in a deep breath and got his bad leg beneath him. “Let’s go.”

  FORTY-FOUR

  After Ordell took his next shot, Clint bolted away from the rock in one direction and Howlett bolted in another. Since Clint could see that Howlett wasn’t moving too well, he turned and started firing that much quicker.

  In the back of Clint’s mind, he ticked off the seconds it would take for Ordell to reload and fire the rifle. He had it worked out almost perfectly since he’d test-fired the weapon enough times when he was repairing it. Every so often, however, Ordell would get a shot off that was even faster than Clint had predicted.

  Howlett stopped trying to move quickly and settled for firing accurately. Even as a few of Ordell’s shots came at him, Howlett kept moving at his steady pace while firing again and again into the trees. Every time Ordell shot at him, Howlett was able to get a better idea of where those shots were coming from. Before too long, he could hear heavy steps stamping through the underbrush instead of more rifle shots.

  “He’s moving!” Howlett shouted.

  Having left his rifle at the river, Clint kept his body low and drew his Colt. With his right hand wrapped around the pistol, his left hand took hold of his knife. Clint swung the blade in sweeping moves to clear anything in front of him that might trip him up. He didn’t worry about snares or traps along the route he took, because the path had already been scouted and cleared.