James Axler – Trader Redux

THE LAND WAG WAS LESS than a quarter of a mile away, and Ryan had again brought the vehicle to a halt. The sun was so far down on the western horizon behind them that the truck was sitting in a bowl of deepest shadow.

“I thought I saw someone goin’ in the front door,” Trader called.

“Who?”

“Come on, Ryan. How the fuck do I know who it was? Just looked like someone.”

“Go ahead on foot,” J.B. suggested. “This one’s got a bad feel to it.”

Ryan reached out and switched off the ignition. In the stillness they all heard the far-off howling of a lone coyote, among the foothills.

SUKBE STOOD A FEW PACES from the kitchen door when it opened and Doc walked out.

“Made me jump,” she said. “Anyone there?”

“I only walked straight through, but I called a couple of times. I did not look in any of the other rooms. Can’t be anyone there. They would have answered me. I thought that there was the smell of”

“What? Danger?”

“No.” He bolstered the big Le Mat. “Perhaps it was my imagination. You saw nothing? There wasn’t a note left anywhere around?”

She answered him very quickly. “Note! Why should there be a note, Doc? If I’d found a note, I’d have given it to you, wouldn’t I?”

“Yes, yes. Take it easy, my dear. You almost acted as if I had been accusing you of”

“Well, there wasn’t no note, all right? Means that we’re here on our own.”

The voice came from just behind them, making them both start. “Not alone. Hi, Doc.”

Doc spun, his eyes widening at the sight of his friend. “Greetings, my dear Ryan. The best of greetings. How are you and did you find your old companion? There is something amiss here, is there not?”

“Time for all that later. How long you been here?”

“Five minutes. No longer. Is John Barrymore Dix with you? Abe and the Trader?”

“Covering the front of the house. All fine. Got a wag out front as well. Was there a note? And who’s this woman?”

“This is no woman, this is my my friend. Susan Smith, known by the diminutive of Sukie. And this is my truest friend, Ryan Cawdor, my dear.”

She had been staring at the tall, powerfully built man with a horrified fascination, unable to keep from looking at the black patch over his left eye and the dull gleam of the automatic blaster held in his right hand. “Hi, there,” she said. “Doc’s sure talked a bundle about you and the others.”

“Yeah.” He turned from her. “A note, Doc. Was there a note? They could’ve gone away for some good reason. If they did, then they’d likely have left us a note. On the front or, more likely, on the back door. Sure there was nothing?”

“I saw nothing. Nor did Sukie.”

“Right. I didn’t see nothing, Mr. Cawdor. Though a note might not mean anything.”

He ignored her, looking toward the main barn and the corral. “Livestock’s gone as well. We checked for tracks, but that bout of heavy rain washed everything away.”

They all heard steps, moving toward them. J.B. appeared around the one side of the building, raising a silent hand in greeting to Doc. Trader and Abe walked around the nearer wall of the house, both holding blasters.

The introductions took only a handful of seconds.

“It’s Indians,” Trader said vehemently, gesturing toward the shadowy outline of the mountains with the barrel of the Armalite.

“No bullets, no fire, no broken windows, no blood.” J.B. ticked points off on his fingers. “I don’t see it as a firefight or an armed raid, Trader.”

“Gone out hunting,” Abe suggested. “Mebbe following deer and didn’t notice the time passing. Could be they’ll all return in the next hour or so.”

Ryan considered the idea for a moment. “Possible, Abe. Guess that’s the best one yet. But they wouldn’t have left all of the doors open like this. It’s unthinkable, isn’t it? Must fine-comb the place. Soon as possible. First, though, we’ll just have to bring the land wag up to the house. Get it parked safely out back. Abe, you can do that.”