I”…at at “Hold up there! Move those horses and I’ll kill you The voice, I was sure, was Heseltine’s. At the same moment three men dropped into the road and ran toward the stage, one of them holding a rifle on Tobin.
Silva fired, no doubt at the man on the bank whom I could not see, and kicking the door wide I dropped into the road and yelled, “Tobin I Let ’em gal” The man with the rifle half turned to fire at me, and I let him have a barrel in the chest. Then wheeling, I fired at the second man.
Tobin, with a yell, cracked his whip at the third man and the frightened horses lunged into a run.
A bullet locked dust at my feet, and I leaped for the brush, tripped over a root and fell headlong, clinging to my now empty shotgun.
I came up, six-shooter in hand, but there was nothing in sight except the body in the road.
Breaking the shotgun, I plucked out the empty shells with my left hand, fed two cartridges into the barrels, and snapped the gun shut. I reholstered my pistol, and crouched, waiting.
It was very still. It was warm in the sun, but here in the partial shade of the pines it was cool. A lot of shooting had taken place, much of it lost in the confusion of my own actions, and I had no idea how Silva or Tobin Dixie had fared.
I was alone, on a mountain top with a dead or wounded outlaw and his three companions.
Where were they? Silva had fired-several times, I thought, and he had been shot at. My first shot had nailed the man at the horse’s head; my second shot had gone wild, but I might have gotten a few more shots that counted.
Ever so gently, I eased back, took one quick glance to see the way, and moved swiftly the-rough the rocks and bushes in the direction the stage had taken.
From where I stopped I could survey the mountainside. It was brush-c-ov-ered, with scattered pines toward the crest, pines that thickened into a forest lower down The red bank from which Heseltine had spoken, and from which the rocks had been pushed to stop the stage, ay before me, about thirty yards off. On my left front was a white cliff of fractured rock that was fifty to sixty feet high.
Brush grew along its base. I decided their horses must have been tied somewhere near the base of that cliff, which cut them off from the uphill direction.
To escape, if that was what they planned, they must go down the mountain on my left. As they would not be likely to take the stage road, they would probably try to get through the mountains by some prearranged route that must also be to my left.
But they might not try to escape. They knew I was here, and they knew I was on foot. They might try to kill me.
They must know the stage driver would send a posse back to look for me and to hunt for them. Would they try to put distance between them and the scene of the holdup? Or would they try to hunt me down?
I was crouching there in the hot sun when suddenly a voice called out: “Bob? King is dead.
fl I My position was a good one, with a e d of re ir every direction.
WEII down behind the rocks, I called out, “Bob? Reese? I want my money back!” There was a moment of silence, then Heseltine’s voice came. “Tucker, lay off, dyou hear?
Lay off, or I’ll comeafter you!” “Come on, Bob. I’m right here, waiting-only bring my money when you come.”…ally go to hell!” “Scared, Bob? YO-US were supposed to be the tough man. You get that money back to me, Heseltine, every cent of it, or you’ll never rest another day as long as you live.” “Burnetteaat I yelled, “you’re a fool to tie up with a man who’ll be watched every minute.
Any job you try to pull off will fail! ‘We were waiting for you today, Pit.
We knew you were coming. But I don’t want you, I want my money.
Reese and Heseltine took it.” There was no answer, and I did not talk any more.
I watched from my cover, but they did not come. Some distance off, I heard the pound of hoofs, and then silence.
I waited perhaps half an hour and then I moved, sing for a clump of boulders and the trees beyond. I heard no sound, no movement anywhere.
After a while I found tracks near the stage road and followed them.
There were drops of blood here and there on leaves or grass.
Near the white cliff I found where horses had waited.
They were gone.
Slowly, shotgun in hand, r plodded back.
Birds were singing and the air was bright, but the afternoon was waning. At the scene of the holdup I found Burns King.
He had taken my shotgun blast full in the chest, and must have been dead before he hit the ground.
Dragging the body to the side of the road, I waited. A posse would come, and perhaps the stage itself would return, its delivery made.
Of them all, Burns King deserved killing the least, I thought, but when a man starts out to break the law it is one of the risks he takes.
I was no nearer recovering my money. As a matter of fact, it was growing less likely all the time.
When I had been waiting more than an hour and had about decided to build a fire, a buckboard appeared, and then another. There were three men in one, four in the other, all armed. Do Silva was one of them.
We loaded King’s body into a buckboard and I climbed in too.
Silva had been shot through the upper arm at the first blast, had lost his grip on his rifle, and had only managed to get off a few shots.
He was angry with himself. He looked at me, and said, “You’re game, amigo- You went right after them.” I intended to. I still intend to.
I want a horse, and when I get one I’m coming back and try to pick up their trail.” And that was the beginning of it, the beginning of six long months of riding, six months in which I stayed on their trail during every waking minute, six months in which I gave them no rest, no time to gather their forces or to spend the money.
To Animas City, to Farmington, to Socorro.
There had been five hundred dollars on Burns King, and I used the reward money to follow the others. In Kingston I heard Pit Burnett had deserted them.
I came face to face with him in a saloon.
He turned to face me as I neared the bar. He was unshaven and haggard-looking. “Is it me you’re looking” for?” he asked.
,”…ationo, Pit. I want your friends.” “they’re no friends of mine. It was a sorry day that I met with them.
I’ve left them, and good riddance.” “I’m sorry about King. It was the breaks of the game.” Burnett shrugged. “It could have been me. Or you.
When a man takes gun in hand there is only one end to it, come soon or late.” He glanced at me. “Is it after them you are?” ‘allyes.” “I broke from them at Horse Spring.” He jerked his head toward the west. “I doubt if they came to Socorro.” Where’s Ruby?” “I’d not be knowing that, but Heseltine gave her money, quite a wad of it, and she left them and took the stage for Santa Fe.” “Did I get much lead into Reese?” ‘A dozen or so buckshot into his hide, but no damage done except that he’s scared. You’ve got him scared from his wits.” “What about Heseltine?” ‘ationothing scares him. Nothing at all. But you’ve made it impossible for him to pull a job. You’re always too close, and you give him no time.” He looked hard at me. “How long are you going to keep it up?” “Until I have my money, or he’s dead. Until both of them are dead.” Pit finished his drink, and I bought him another.
“Thanks,” he said. ‘allyou might say you owe me this much. I haven’t made a dollar since you took after us.” “Broke?” He grinned at me. ‘allyou betcha. This here drink was my last. I hoped to find a friend who would stake me.” “You have,” I said. “I’ll grubstake you.” I put a twenty dollar gold piece on the bar.
‘Take that, and do one thing for me.” He fixed his eyes on me. “And what would that be?” “Stay away from them. I think yore a good man, Pit, and when I tangle with them I wouldiyt like to find you in the way.” ‘allyou won’t.” He picked up the money.