The Desperate Deputy of Cougar Hill (14 page)

“That was his plan,” Cameron said.

“Now we’re stronger than they are,” Jenny said. “And I know where Tod is hiding. From what you overheard about the high meadow being the one with the wild horses, he could be only one place.” She nodded uptrail. “Do you remember? The trail forks just ahead. The left fork goes to a big meadow. The right fork cuts across the mountains and drops onto the stagecoach road where it goes south out of the valley. But it’s a miserable trail. Tod wouldn’t have taken it because it would have left him exposed to a pursuer. There are a dozen places where he could have been shot while he was working along a ledge. I’m sure he went into the canyon and holed up in the little box canyon at the back of it.”

“And the Dondees are camped in front, waiting for hunger to bring him out,” Cameron said with soft bitterness. He added, “And we’re not in a much better spot. If we go ahead, we run against the Dondees. If we try to ride back, Arker and Farley will stop us.”

“Would you ride back with Tod up there?” she demanded.

“No,” Cameron said. “Not even if the trail behind us was clear. But I was thinking of your getting back to town and warning Balder about tomorrow night.”

“If I could, I wouldn’t go,” she said stiffly. “Your arm still isn’t in any decent shape. And two against four will help Tod more than just one.”

Cameron studied the trail. Arker and Farley were camped just out of gun range. Ahead, a hundred yards of open exposed land had to be crossed once they were out of the timber. Then they would have a high bluff to protect them. But the timber lay in such a way that they could not reach the bluff without crossing that open land. And once they appeared there, Arker and Farley would be after them, eager to drive them toward the Dondees waiting in the meadow.

“We can’t do anything until dusk anyway,” Cameron said. “Maybe then we can slip out and up to the meadow.”

“Both of us,” Jenny said firmly.

Cameron knew that she was right. Alone, he was no match for four men. Not in his condition. Besides, Jenny knew the country far better than he. He tried to recall the lay of the meadow, to think of a plan that would keep her as much as possible out of danger.

He knew now that none of these men would have any compunction in shooting a woman. Arker might have had at one time, but Larabee’s giving him a choice — her or the gold — had made his feelings plain.

“All right,” Cameron said. He looked at the sun. “It’s a long time until dusk. My arm should get a good rest.” He added dryly, “And a little food wouldn’t hurt it either.”

Jenny laughed softly. “If they can make camp, I guess we can too.”

Cameron glanced at her now and then as she moved competently about, making a small camp and cooking some of the food she had brought in her saddlebags. But for the most part he kept watch on Arker and Farley, even though they showed no signs of moving.

“Larabee will have reached town by now,” Jenny said later. “Hell have told his story already.”

“I’ll worry about that after we get Tod,” Cameron said. “Right now I want you to tell me everything you know about that meadow. Draw a map if you can. We’re going to have to try to trick them. Because even if we get up to the meadow without being seen by Arker, before we get out, we’re going to have four men against us.”

He added, “Four men here and Larabee setting up the ones in town against me.”

T
HEY SLEPT
, one after the other, and then they ate again. Arker and Farley remained where they were. Obviously they too were waiting for the night to come. Cameron watched the sun slide behind the distant western peaks. Now he could feel the coolness of the coming evening shadows as they reached out to probe the timber.

“In another half hour,” he said warningly.

Jenny was redding up the camp. When she had everything stowed to her liking, she saddled and loaded her sorrel. Then she took Cameron’s place at the watch point and he readied the roan. By now the darkness was beginning to come. In the valley, and beyond it on the sage flats, the long twilight would still be lingering. But here already the first sharp stars glittered in the indigo of the sky.

“They just built up their fire,” Jenny called out. She nodded toward Arker and Farley’s camp.

“That means they’ll be riding soon,” Cameron guessed. “While we keep an eye on their fire, they’ll try to slip through the trees behind us.”

He knelt and stirred the ashes of their small fire. Jenny had built it on a damp spot well cleared of needles and a good distance away from the nearest trees. Now Cameron blew the sparks into life and laid small pieces of dry branch on the coals.

“Let’s give them something to aim for,” he said. Then with a nod, he took the reins and led the roan quietly toward the trail. Jenny followed closely.

Some distance from the camp, Cameron paused. “No one can move a horse quietly through timber this thick. Let’s get out on the trail before Arker hears us going.”

“What if they see us?” Jenny demanded.

“Then we push the horses,” Cameron said. “But my hunch is they’re on the other side of the trees, trying to slip up to our camp. If so, we can get a big jump on them.”

As quietly as possible, they eased the horses onto the trail. With the moon not close to rising, it was very dark here. Only the paler surface of the trail made it visible against the blackness of the forest pressing in on both sides. They continued to walk, leading the animals, seeking to make as little noise as possible. Finally they rounded the high bluff, and now they were protected from the rear. The fork in the trail lay a short distance ahead, and not far beyond that — to the left — would be the meadow.

Two shots echoed thinly from the timber they had recently left. Cameron swung into the saddle and waited until Jenny was on the sorrel. “It won’t take them long to know they’ve been tricked,” he said. “Can you lead the way?”

Jenny put the sorrel in front and let it pick its way over the rough trail. At the fork, she reined left and here the going was easier, over grass-grown ground.

Cameron felt the bold bite of the night air stiffening his muscles and he kept swiveling his right shoulder, pulling on his tender side, keeping himself loose for what lay ahead. Beyond, Jenny rounded a tight curve forced by a tall spire of rock and stopped. Cameron brought the roan alongside.

The meadow lay before them. It sprayed out fan-like, with the narrow point here and the wide end running southeast. The left side was darker than the other sides and Cameron recalled that it was a steep, timbered slope. On the right, a high wall of rock rose sheer toward the sky. It curved around to the far end, and in the far corner it was broken from some ancient upheaval.

Jenny pointed to the broken cliff face. “Tod has to be in there. It’s the only hiding place.”

Cameron nodded. If proof was needed, the bright point of yellow marking a small fire was enough. “The Dondees’ camp,” he said.

Jenny was leaning forward, straining to pierce the darkness. “I think the wild stuff is over in the far left corner,” she said. “The last time I was here, I counted a dozen along with the stallion. He’s a rangy dun,” she added.

Cameron studied the long, gentle downward slope of the meadow. “If we ran the Dondees away long enough to get Tod out, we’d still be bottled up by Arker and Farley,” he said thoughtfully. “And even if Tod is in good shape, they’d hold the high cards. What we need is some help.”

“You’re thinking of the broncs?” Jenny murmured.

Cameron smiled through the darkness at her. “Right. If we could use them for a screen …” He broke off, his smile fading. “It’s a fifty-fifty chance if everything goes perfect.”

“Fifty-fifty is better than what we have now,” Jenny said.

Cameron nodded and leaned toward her, outlining his plan. She loosened the carbine in her saddle boot. He said, “Don’t shoot except to protect yourself. Wild stock like that can get scared mighty easy. They could turn on us.”

“I know how to handle broncs,” Jenny reminded him quietly. Lifting her reins, she put the sorrel off the trail. Cameron watched as she worked along the left side of the meadow, following the tree line. For a time she blended into the dark timber and then she swung away from it and he could see her again in silhouette. Now he started the roan on a straight line for the yellow dot of firelight.

He kept an eye toward Jenny as he rode. When she was nearly to the dark mass they had taken for the herd of wild horses, it began to break apart nervously. Then a long-legged animal was outlined against the lighter dark of the cliff face and Cameron knew the stallion had taken wind of her. Now Jenny’s sorrel quickened its pace. The stallion’s head came up and his neigh shrilled through the dark night. He swung in an arc toward her, broke as the sorrel refused to give ground, and raced in the direction of the fire and the broken cliff face behind it.

Now it was Cameron’s turn to act He drove the roan forward. Jenny had her horse behind the herd, driving them on. The stallion crossed half the meadow toward the fire and then tried to veer to his right. But Cameron was there, blocking the way. With a snort of rage, the big animal swung back toward the fire.

A quick glance showed Cameron that the Dondees were up and moving toward their horses. He wondered what they must think. In this darkness, only mass movement could be seen beyond the ring of firelight. One of the Dondees shouted something, but the words were swallowed by the pounding of hoofs. Cameron lifted his arm in a signal to Jenny. She responded, letting him know she had the position she wanted. Cameron sent the roan surging forward. Once more the stallion tried to turn only to find himself blocked. And again he swung in the direction of the fire.

The Dondees were mounted now and firelight licked out, showing them waiting with their guns ready. One panicked and fired and the shot did what Cameron had expected to have to do — it sent the stallion swinging to its left, toward the only refuge it could find. It boiled into the break in the rocks. Jenny pressed hard on the small herd, driving the other eleven head after it.

“It’s that girl from town!” Jupe Dondee bellowed over the hammer of hoofs. “She stampeded them on us!”

His gun lifted, catching firelight. Cameron sent a shot kicking dirt at Jupe’s feet. “Hold it right there!” he snapped.

“By God, it’s Cameron!” Jupe Dondee swung his gun. Cameron fired again, and this time the bullet drove Jupe’s horse back in a frantic scramble. Both men lifted their arms high.

Cameron flicked his glance to the left. Jenny was following the last horse into the cut, her voice sharp and clear on the night: “It’s me, Tod! It’s Jenny!”

“Make it fast,” Cameron cried at her. She lifted a hand and then was beyond the range of the firelight, swallowed by the darkness of the rocks.

Five minutes, Cameron thought. That should be long enough for her to see to Tod, get him out even if he had to be packed on the back of his horse.

He called to the Dondees, “Just hold it the way you are, Hale. Jupe, you toss that gun to the ground and climb off your horse. I want to see more wood on that fire, a lot more.”

Jupe Dondee hurriedly obeyed Cameron’s order. Soon the fire began to blaze up, and now the two brothers were clearly outlined. Cameron danced the roan back a few steps, keeping himself on the edge of darkness.

Then a shout lifted from the far point of the meadow. Cameron turned and saw two dark forms riding hard for the fire, and he knew that five minutes was far too long. He could hold two men off with his gun, but not four. Not when he was boxed between them.

It was his plan to use the wild stock as a shield, to drive them as a wedge down the meadow until Jenny and Tod and himself could get on the trail. Then they would have a chance.

But to do this, he would have to drop to one side, picking up the drag position when the horses came into the meadow. Otherwise he would spook the stallion and send him bolting back, stampeding his herd and putting Jenny and Tod in danger of being trampled. And once he did that, he knew he would lose his position and give the Dondees a chance to use their guns.

He had counted on the stampeding horses throwing them off balance and on riding the far side of the herd which would protect him to some extent. Against two he had had a chance. Against four, he had none at all.

A voice cried, “Jupe? Hale?”

“Watch out,” Hale shouted. “Cameron’s here!”

A bullet whined at Cameron and he realized that he was outlined against the fire which was between himself and the break in the cliff face. He swung in the saddle and snapped two quick shots and then he sent the roan directly at the fire, swerving it at the last moment as it threatened to rebel against him. The horse made a wide swing and cut back. Bullets began to whine out of the darkness, seeking the wildly running animal and its rider.

“Gun him down!” Arker ordered. “Him and the girl both. Gun them out of the saddle!”

The Dondees spread out to block his flight and to offer Cameron only one target in any one direction. Behind him, Arker and Farley made the same maneuver. And now the four men formed a quarter circle around him, and the only opening he had left was blocked by the cliff face.

He had only one choice, and that was a small chance at best. He had to reach the break in the rocks before the Dondees closed it off against him — before one of the bullets seeking him out found its mark. He raked his heels into the roan’s flanks and leaned forward, jerking the reins to make the horse run a zigzag pattern. Guns hammered from behind him and from an angle forward and to his right.

Cameron reared up in the saddle and fired, spraying his shots until he heard the click of the hammer on an empty shell. The mouth of the cut leading into the culde-sac where Jenny had driven the horse lay a half dozen strides ahead. Jupe Dondee was as far on the other side, riding hard to block Cameron from turning into the cut.

Cameron holstered his.44 and reached for his carbine as he saw Jupe level his gun. Rafe Arker and Hale Dondee fired at the same instant. Cameron never knew whose bullet caught him in the leg. He felt the sting and the shock. He pitched forward, grabbing for the saddle horn to keep himself from falling. At the same time he fought to hold onto the reins so that he could guide the roan.