He had been a peace-loving man. He believed in peace, had argued for it, written about it. There was no difficulty he had said, that could not be solved without violence by reasonable human beings. That was what he had said, and what he now believed. Or had believed until now.
“We have no reason for trouble,” he said quietly. “As I was explaining to Mr. Mantle, I have nothing of value. That was the reason I came west, to start over again.”
“Was that true? What you said about your brother and troops in Cherry Creek?” Shabbitt demanded.
“Why else would I have said it?” he replied. “But even if it were not true you know what the attitude would be toward such an attack as this.”
“Kill him,” Ike Mantle said, after a moment. “Kill him and let’s get out of here.”
“Why bother?” Purdy wanted to know. “Just turn him loose. He’s got no horse, an’ he’s a tenderfoot. There’s Utes all over this country who’d take his hair.”
“Build a fire,” Shabbitt said suddenly. “I want some coffee. No use tryin’ to trace ’em down until daylight, anyway.”
Purdy looked at McKaskel. “You say Vallian’s got your woman?”
“She’s gone, isn’t she? And so’s he. They even took my boy.”
“I wondered why he was hangin’ around,” Shabbitt said. “Begins to make sense.” Doc glanced around at Red Hyle. “He beat you to it, Red.”
Hyle shrugged.
Purdy began to gather sticks and put a fire together. He broke some bark from a dead stump and shredded it between his palms to use for tinder. It caught quickly when he held a match to it, and flared up. He added some thin tissues of bark, then twigs.
Ike walked to his horse and got a coffee-pot and came back. “He ain’t worth nothin’. We can kill him or leave him.”
“Somethin’ funny here,” Shabbitt said. “If Con Vallian stole his woman, why ain’t he sore? Why ain’t he after him?”
“Turn me loose,” McKaskel said. “Give me a chance.”
“You want to go after him?” Purdy asked.
“Well, I would have to consider it. Con Vallian is a dead shot. I’d have to make up my mind whether I’d trade my life for a woman. There’s other women, but I’ve only one life.”
“It makes sense,” Purdy agreed.
Nobody else spoke. The night air was cold and they moved closer to the fire. Duncan McKaskel decided to hold his peace. For the time they seemed to have forgotten him, and to have forgotten their intention to kill him. Yet it had at last come home to him that all men might not be reasonable. He had tried reasoning but it might not work. There was only a slim chance.
They had taken his guns but they made no move to tie him up. At the first move to escape they’d empty their guns into him, and he knew it.
A half mile away, in thick brush near the mules, Susanna saw the sky turning gray. There had been no shooting, but Duncan had not joined them. If he could have come, he would have. He was hurt or a prisoner. Yet why would they want him a prisoner? It might be they would hold him to bring her back.
Tom awakened and looked nervously about, then saw her. “Ma! Where’s Pa?”
“He did not come. I am afraid he is hurt or they have taken him.”
“I could look. I could go back there. Nobody’d see me.”
“We’ll both go.”
“No, Ma, you mustn’t. You’re bigger than me, and your skirts rustle. They’d never see me, or hear me.”
“Wait… just a little longer.”
Duncan would be with them if he could be with them. She was sure of that.
Nor did she dare leave this spot. Duncan had told them to come here, so if he arrived and there was no one he would start looking again. This was their base, here she was, here Duncan would come, and if Tom went he would come back to this place. And the mules and horses were here.
“All right, Tom,” she said suddenly. “Go back to where we were last night. If you don’t find your father, come right back here, for he expects us to be here.”
After all, it should take Tom no more than thirty minutes, or perhaps an hour. He left quickly and faded into the brush. His very silence reassured her. After the first movement of the brush there was no further sound.
She was alone. More than a thousand miles from friends, relatives, all that was familiar. She was sitting alone in the forest, knowing only that her husband might be injured or dead and that she had let her son go off into the night, and that he might be killed.
She had the shotgun. She looked at the charges, still in place… unfired.
She snapped the gun together again and waited. She forced herself to be strong, forced herself to be calm. Panic, someone had once said… had it been Vallian?… only enters an empty mind, and panic was what she must fear now-only panic. She steeled herself for what might lie ahead, and slowly the loneliness and fear left her. Although she was still alone, she was prepared for what might come.
Coolly, she studied the possibilities. Duncan was dead? If so, she must avoid Shabbitt’s men and get to Cherry Creek.
If he was a prisoner, she must contrive some way to free him.
If wounded, she must find him, hide him, and treat his wounds. During this period they must move as little as possible, remain hidden, and avoid leaving any tracks even if it meant hunger.
She must trust Tom. He was young, but he was strong for his years and had grown stronger with the hard work on the trip thus far. He had learned a great deal from Con Vallian, and from Duncan. He was good at slipping around in the woods and he might be the one to locate Duncan.
She got to her feet and moved away from the spot where she had been to a slightly higher place on the side of the mountain where she could watch the place where she and Tom had been. From where she now sat she could also see the approach to the hidden corral, although the horses and mules were not visible.
Slowly, the minutes went by. She kept alert, but at the same time began to speculate on how she could treat and feed a wounded man without showing herself.
Her thoughts returned to Tom. He was so young, so very young! Had she been foolish to let him go? He was her baby! Why, it was only… only a few years ago that she had rocked him to sleep in her arms, and now he had gone off in the woods searching for his father… alone.
Tom McKaskel was scared. He admitted it. He was also delighted, although he would not have told his mother so. He was looking for his father, but creeping through the woods was like playing Indian, only this was not play.
Tom was careful not to step on a branch that might break, a stone that might roll. He stayed low, as he moved from hiding place to hiding place. He was sure he was doing it well. He had covered more than a quarter of a mile and was sure he had not been seen.
He was wrong.
For the past fifty yards he had been watched by the Huron.
Searching for Vallian, whom he knew was somewhere near, the Huron saw the boy. At first he believed he might be going to Vallian, but then he realized the boy was searching for his father.
Standing close between two trees, his body merging with their darkness, he watched the boy moving from tree to tree. For a moment he hesitated, then turned deliberately away, leaving the boy to go his way.
After a moment, Huron turned in the direction from which the boy had come.
As the sky grew gray with approaching daylight, Red Hyle got to his feet. He felt surly and mean. He had waited too long, had wasted his time with this bunch of fools. He glanced at Doc Shabbitt, ugly distaste showing in his eyes, from across the fire Purdy seemed to be dozing, yet Red was not so sure. Purdy Mantle missed very little, and Red was sure that Purdy waited only for the opportunity to kill him.
Hyle suddenly turned and strode to his horse. Shabbitt made a move to rise and Hyle turned his head to look back over his shoulder. “Stay where you are! I got business to attend to!”
Duncan McKaskel started almost involuntarily to rise, but Ike was watching him like a cat. He would not make two feet before he’d be dead, and dead he would be of no use to Susanna or Tom.