“Where’s he going?” he asked.
Ike grinned. It was an ugly, taunting grin. “After your woman. If she is with Vallian, he’s as good as dead. If she ain’t, he’ll have her all to himself.”
Protest would do no good. He sat back, trying to seem indifferent. Yet mentally he was searching every corner of camp, reaching out for any clue, any item that might help him to get away.
There was nothing.
Red Hyle swung into the saddle and turned his horse toward the trail. Within a moment he had found Duncan’s trail and started off.
“Where’s the Huron?” Purdy asked suddenly.
Doc shrugged. “Who knows? He just leaves… goes where he pleases, when he pleases.” Doc let the minute pass and then said, carefully, “Red’s no hand for sharin’, is he?”
Ike threw a taunting glance at Doc. “Hate him, don’t you? Why don’t you shoot him then?”
Doc spat. “Hun? He’ll get hisself shot. Besides, we need him. He’s mighty good with a gun.”
“So’s Purdy,” Ike said. “I think maybe Purdy is better.”
“He’s not my meat,” Purdy said quietly. “Get somebody else to do your killin’.”
Duncan sat thinking of a way to escape when he looked up and saw Tom. He was in the trees, well back from the small clearing, and he was watching them.
Fear turned Duncaa cold. If they got the boy, if they even saw him-
CHAPTER XIX
Con Vallian awakened in the clear, cold hour before daybreak. He lay still, listening. His horse was standing quietly, so he got up, brushed off the grass and leaves, then stretched and stretched again.
He took out his six-shooter and spun the cylinder. It was in fine shape. He loaded the empty chamber, making it six rounds. Then he took up his Winchester and wiped the dampness from it.
He stripped the saddle from the mustang and let the horse roll, then rubbed it down with a handful of dried grass, and saddled up again.
He had a bad, irritable feeling this morning. It might be the uncomfortable place in which he had slept, and it might be a premonition. Maybe everybody had pulled out during the night and all were gone. He put a foot into the stirrup and held it there.
He heard a horse trot by, not far off. Taking his foot down he turned swiftly. Red Hyle was just disappearing into the trees, seemingly following a trail.
Red Hyle… alone.
For several minutes he remained as he was, considering what that meant. If Red continued on that trail he would be very near to the mule corral.
Mounting, Con turned his horse and walked it along the edge of the trees, staying in the background so that he would not be easily seen.
He knew all about Red Hyle. He was a brute, and if he possessed any human feelings at all they had not made themselves obvious. His attitude was one of contempt for everyone but his sheer physical power and harsh manner allowed no room for opposition. Just nobody wanted any part of Red Hyle.
Vallian had been shooting since childhood and was a dead shot with any kind of a weapon. He was also gifted with dexterity, that natural coordination of hand and eye that permits a man to have exceptional skill with a gun. He never thought of himself as a gunfighter, never considered the use of guns as a goal to be attained. They were simply a part of his way of life and that of every man of his time.
He did pride himself on his skill as a tracker and a woodsman. He had believed he was second to none, and yet the Huron had twice come upon him without being detected. The thought rankled and worried him.
He drew up again, half under the shade of a cottonwood, his body and that of his horse dappled with sunshine and shadow. From even a few yards away he would be invisible.
It was then he saw the riders.
Doc Shabbitt was in the lead, behind him Ike and Purdy Mantle, and tied to a horse… Duncan McKaskel.
It was Duncan himself who started them after Hyle. Held a prisoner he could do no good, and if they stayed around they might discover Tom.
“What does he do now?” McKaskel asked curiously. “Do you sit waiting until he comes back? I thought you were all in this together.”
Nobody said anything, but Doc shifted uncomfortably. “There’s nothing in my wagon,” he said, “nor with my wife, but if there was, he’d get it all.”
“Shut your trap!” Purdy said irritably, then he looked over at Doc. “Well, we did all come out together. We all should see it through together.”
“You mean, ride after Hyle? I don’t think he wants company.”
‘To hell with him. We’re all in this together.”
“What if he gets sore? He said we should stay put.”
“You takin’ orders from him, Doc? I thought you was the leader. I say we all ride over there. I say we take McKaskel here. We started out together, and we’ll finish the job together.”
Ike and Purdy jerked McKaskel to his feet, thrust his hands behind him and tied them, then helped him on a horse. Leaving the horse standing, they all began saddling up. The area was so small that there was no chance of making a move even though McKaskel’s horse was standing close under the trees.
Doc was in the saddle when Duncan McKaskel felt something tug on the rawhide bonds that held him, and then felt the sawing of a knife.
Tom’s jack-knife. For weeks he had been planning on sharpening it for the boy but neglected it.
The boy sawed, then shifted position and began sawing on another strand without completing the first. McKaskel was cold with fear. If they caught the boy, they’d kill him, and he dared not even whisper. The boy was in the brush close against his horse’s side, and presumably out of sight, yet a move of the horse might reveal him.
Suddenly Purdy turned his horse toward him. “All right, Mac, we’ll go call on your wife. And Red Hyle.”
They rode out, and he dared not look back. Gently, he tested the rawhide. The ropes held tight, yet he was sure they had been cut almost through, and a sudden jerk might part them. For a wild moment he considered it, then decided against it. He would be killed without helping anybody. He must wait until he could act to some purpose.
Con Vallian saw them ride past but was struck by only one factor. The Huron was not among them. The Huron must be somewhere in the woods and that meant he might be very close.
Hesitating, studying the woods with care, he saw nothing. He listened, he turned in the saddle and studied the wall of trees behind him… nothing. There was no doubt in his mind that the next time he saw the Huron one of them would die.
Over there! Something moved! Con slid his rifle from the scabbard and lifted it in his hands, waiting. Something was over there in the brush, something that could only be a man. He was ready to shoot, but he was not the sort to blast away at any chance movement. He wanted to see what he was shooting. He held the rifle ready, and waited.
Suddenly a small figure darted from the brush and ran across a portion of the clearing. It was Tom!
Con walked his horse from the brush toward the boy, keeping his eyes and ears alert for the Huron. Tom saw him coming, and pulled up.
“Tom, where’s your mother?”
“Yonder. Over where they are going. Pa’s tied, but I was cutting on the rawhide. With a good jerk he can break loose.”
“Good. Let’s ride over there.”
He grasped the boy’s hand and swung him to the saddle behind him, and then started on a fast lope for the corrals. Con rode with his rifle in his hands, for the Huron had to be close.
Turning into the trees, he dismounted. Tom slid to the ground. “You stay here, Tom. Stay with my horse.”
“Aw!” Tom grabbed Vallian’s arm. “Ma’s over there! I’ve got to help!”
“You stay out of it!” Vallian said sharply. “There’s going to be shooting, and there’s no fun in it.”
He touched his gunbutt, wetting his lips. He could hear the distant sound of voices, and taking his rifle in his hand, he started to walk closer.
Shabbitt had only now found the place, and Red Hyle was obviously angered.
Waiting back in the trees, well-hidden, Vallian listened, taking in the scene.
Susanna McKaskel had her back to a tree, and in her hands was a shotgun. Her face was white and strained, her eyes bright, but the gun was ready.
“Figured you might need help,” Doc was saying. “After all, we started this here together, we figure to finish it the same way.”