Blake took hold of Latimer’s shoulder and hurled him down the slope. Latimer slipped and went down onto the seat of his pants. He tried to stop, but he slid down on a miniature landslide of rocks and stones. He slowed near the campsite, where Jennifer Malder and her father were standing close together, and Huxley was crossing to join them from the other side of the clearing.

  Latimer scrambled to his feet, wheeled to glare at Durant and then grated, “Now you’ll see too damned late what you got yourself into Malder. That murdering swine has the top hand now. You reckon he’s going to risk getting hanged from now on? I tried to warn you, but no, you went along with him. See who gets the bank money now.”

  Jerome Malder studied Latimer bleakly for a moment as Blake came down towards them. Blake still held his gun in his hand and had Latimer’s gun in his belt, and the gunbelt flung across his wide shoulder.

  Malder eased Latimer aside and stood his ground, staring intently up at Durant.

  “What do you have in mind, Durant?” he demanded.

  Blake shrugged. “We’ll have to work it out as we go.”

  “We?” Malder tested him.

  “We can discuss it, Malder. We’re all in this. I’ll make some suggestions but if you don’t like them, do what you like. Nothing’s changed since last night.”

  “Except that you have full control now. You have the guns. Have you stayed so far in order to take the money and run out on us?”

  Blake held his stare evenly for a moment. “I could have done that yesterday afternoon, Malder,” he said.

  “Like hell you could have, Durant!” Latimer put in fiercely. “I had a gun then. I’d have stopped you and you knew it. Also we was running and we had to gain time.”

  “Latimer, you couldn’t have stopped me and we all know it. Now shut up. Your shot would have echoed down the slope and those men below will know we’re on our feet and likely will be pulling out. So they won’t take long getting here.”

  Blake moved across to Tom Huxley and pulled Latimer’s gun from his belt. He weighed it thoughtfully in his hand for a moment before he said, “The girl will have to move out first. We’ll have to give her as much time as possible to get up that slope. So, Malder, you’ll have to go with her, and you’ll have to take the horses with you. All but mine.”

  “But not the money?” Latimer put in.

  “Not the money,” Blake told him. “That will stay with the man responsible for its safety, namely Huxley. Huxley will stay back with me.”

  “So you can kill him and make off,” Latimer insisted, staring at Jerome Malder in the desperate hope that Malder would back him up.

  Blake ignored this further outburst and pushed the gun out towards Huxley. “Can you use it?” he asked.

  Huxley shook his head. “I’ve never fired one in my life, Mr. Durant. I don’t ever want to.”

  “I need help now, mister,” Blake said. “I can stop them from here but if they rush, I’ve got to have gunfire from my right over near those other boulders. We should be able to keep them off for a few hours. Then, when the others have reached the halfway point up there, we can back off and join them.”

  Huxley looked nervously at the gun and bit his lip. Jerome Malder said, “Why him, Durant? Don’t you trust me?”

  “I’m not in the position to trust anybody, Malder,” Blake said. “Besides, your daughter will need you. That climb is going to be hard and she’ll need your encouragement. Latimer is out, as I guess you understand. So it’s Huxley or nobody.”

  Malder’s eyes narrowed as he looked intently at his daughter. He saw a growing anxiety in her face as she looked down the slope they had climbed the previous evening. He knew then that Durant was right. Malder cursed under his breath.

  “All right then,” he said. “I can see some sense in that maneuver, Durant. But what happens if you and Huxley get killed? There’ll be a big bunch coming for that money. They’ve had all night to organize.”

  “If we get killed, you’ll have no more worry, Malder,” Blake told him.

  “Why in hell not? We’ll have no guns then, and no money. They can catch us easy and tear us apart.”

  Blake shook his head. “They won’t need to follow you when they have the money, Mayor. Now quit wasting our time. Just move out, and I suggest you let Latimer take care of the horses. That should keep him busy.”

  Latimer scowled at Blake Durant but said nothing. Jennifer had tidied her hair and smoothed down her clothes, which after the mauling from the rider in Lodge Creek’s main street, were little more than rags. But Blake noticed that despite her fright, there was color in his cheeks. Then she was looking curiously at him and only when his stare levelled on hers, did she turn abruptly away.

  Malder moved off towards the horses, motioning Latimer to accompany him. Blake took Huxley a short way down the slope and indicated a flat ledge over to his right.

  He said, “Get there as quick as you can. Lie flat and keep the gun down on the rock surface. All you do from then is fire off a shot, just the one shot, if you see something move. Don’t go berserk and don’t shift until I tell you.”

  Sweat lined Huxley’s face and his hands shook. “I’m not up to it,” he muttered.

  “Mister, you’ll have to be up to this. There’s no other way for it. They can’t hit you.”

  “Why can’t they, Durant?”

  “Because their shots have to come from below, don’t they? So that ledge you lie on will give you all the cover you want. I’ll keep them busy from my position which is above the easiest way for them to climb up.”

  Huxley wiped the sweat from his face and looked to where the saddlebags lay. Blake knew what was in his mind and added, “I’ll pack my horse with them. No horse comes stronger than my black. Hurry now, you’ve got no more than a few minutes. Get on to the ledge and do what I told you. When I call for you to move out, do so without questioning me. I know what I’m doing.”

  “I hope so, Durant.”

  With that, Tom Huxley, feeling twenty years older than he had the previous evening, made his way across to Blake’s right. He slipped a couple of times and almost lost hold of the gunbelt which he had not yet strapped on his thin waist. Blake packed the saddlebags onto Sundown and stroked the big black quiet. Then he hitched him tightly in case Sundown was spooked by the gunfire. Returning to the ledge he had sat on during the night, he lay flat, checked his gun and waited.

  They came ten minutes later. Blake Durant saw the first of them peer from behind a boulder and the early sunlight flashed off the barrel of a rifle. The man’s face was drawn and it was clear that he didn’t like to be up front. It was a good five minutes before he suddenly dived out of cover and made a dash upwards towards another boulder. Blake could see the relief on his face as he moved into the shade of the boulder and flattened against it. Blake held his fire and he hoped Huxley would do the same.

  The second man came quickly behind the first and took cover behind the same boulder. Blake levelled his gun but still didn’t fire. Then two more men came and soon the whole section below Blake was filled with stooped, clawing, scurrying figures. Blake counted fifteen of them before he saw the man with the bloodied bandanna about his head. He wondered who he was, and if he was the top man in this outfit. Blake thought he could be, because the second attack on Lodge Creek had happened only when he had linked up with the other hellions. That is, thought Blake, if he was right about this being the man he had trailed before being attacked by Malder’s son and Jed Wiles.

  Limping, this short, chunky man climbed up the heavily brushed section where the others had gone from sight. Blake could see a man’s shoulder sticking out from behind the closest boulder. Then talk drifted up to him, followed by an angry snarl and then the first two men started to approach again. Blake saw the fear in their faces as he punched off two shots. Bullets thudded into each man and sent them back off balance. They crashed into the rocks, screaming in pain. Before the echo of those shots had died, a heavy outburst of gunfire shattered the stillness of the mountainside. Blake ducked down, knowing that the wounding of the two men would delay any thought of advance for the moment, but not for long. Then the shooting died as quickly as it had begun and silence settled again.

  Blake checked on the country above him and saw that Malder, his daughter and Latimer had not yet climbed past the beginning of the watercourse. He drew in a ragged breath. At that rate they’d take an hour to get onto better country where they could put a good distance between themselves and the raiders. In that time he and Huxley would be submitted to a lot of pressure. And Huxley might not be up to meeting it.

  Since there was nothing he could do about it at that moment, Blake slid forward again so he could peer over his ledge of rock. He saw the man then who ran this outfit, and who he must kill to stop the continuing attacks.

  He took very careful aim but just as he fired another raider burst from cover and ran between him and the man with the bandaged head. The running man flung his hands up as Blake’s bullet hit him in the side and crashed to the ground. By the time Blake got off his second shot, the man with the head wound had gone from sight.

  Shooting broke out again but lasted only a few minutes before all went quiet again. Blake looked across to where Huxley was but saw only the vague hump of his body pressed down on the narrow ledge of rock. He kept looking in case Huxley lifted his head now that the shooting had died. But a full minute went by and Blake was forced to return his full attention to the activity below him. He didn’t know if Huxley was cowering down or had been hit.

  Suddenly the whole mountainside was filled with the fierce and concentrated roar of gunfire. Blake knew what was coming. The leader had reasoned that sporadic fire and a loose attack would get him nowhere. So he would soon launch a full-scale attack. If Blake and Huxley could turn it back, they might yet win out. He checked again on the country above him, and saw to his relief that Malder had reached the top of the waterway. He was feeding rope down to his daughter while Latimer stood on the side, scowling, watching the battle below.

  The gunfire started again in rolling volleys of sound and the air was filled with the scream of bullets ricocheting off rocks. Once a small stone was dislodged and went bouncing down over Blake’s head. The sun burned down hotly now and flies began to pester his sweating skin.

  Then they came on, five abreast, backed by another five, all crouched down, using whatever cover there was, firing continually and making better progress than he and his companions had done the previous evening. Blake held his fire until he had the first five within fifty feet of him. Then he opened fire.

  One man went backwards with hands flung to the sky, and not a sound coming from him. A second went down on his knees with a patch of red spreading fast across his faded range shirt. He crawled behind brush. The other three hesitated but were soon joined by two replacements. Then the line, firing savagely, came on again.

  Blake emptied his gun, refilled it and emptied it again. He checked with Huxley but could see no spurts of gun smoke coming from Huxley’s ledge. He had told him to hold his fire until he saw something move below him. Well maybe nobody was going up that way. Not yet.

  Then Blake saw three men cutting to his right and driving upwards. He knew Huxley, even in cover, would be no match for them. He shouted a warning and was relieved to see Huxley’s head come up. Sunlight glittered off the barrel of the gun he had taken from Chad Latimer.

  “It’s now or never,” Blake called, above the incessant roar of the gunfire. He had no way of knowing if Huxley heard him or not. Then Huxley’s gun was barking and Blake could see his body stiff on the ledge, head back as if he was clamping his jaws against shock. He had no more time to worry about the banker, because four men were very close to him now and another four were gaining ground behind them. Within a minute some of them would be on him. He might stop two or three but the other five would tear his guts out.

  He fired steadily, spacing his shots, trying to stem the reckless advance. Another man went down, then a fourth. But still the other six came on. The leader was also struggling up the slope, shouting at the top of his voice. Blake hit a fifth of the raiders and was about to look for a way out, when two of the hellions broke clear of the direct approach to Blake’s position and went for cover. The other four, seeing them break off, followed suit.

  Blake breathed a sigh of relief and checked on Tom Huxley again. The banker was on his knees, firing wildly and certainly was not backing off. Then Blake saw him flung suddenly backwards. He cursed. After proving himself to be more than an able and courageous fighter, Huxley had been hit. Blake didn’t know how badly.

  Since those coming at him had pulled back and the leader had gone from sight, Blake broke from his cover and went straight to where Tom Huxley had done his fighting. He saw two furtive figures shifting down below them and punched off four shots. The figures moved on at a faster pace, and he broke into a slithering run across the hard open country.

  When he reached the ledge of rock he saw Tom Huxley coming to his knees. Blood was streaming down into his shirt from a shallow neck wound. Blake ripped off his yellow bandanna and quickly bandaged the wound. Then he drew Huxley to his feet well back from the edge of the plateau. Huxley’s face turned towards him, eyes filled with pain.

  “How it is, Tom?” Blake asked him.

  Huxley gulped painfully but managed a thin smile. “I heard it was hard in a gunfight. Hell, I was told right.”

  “Can you make it out of here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve got to try.”

  Huxley smiled thinly again. “I’ll try. You think I’m going to let those buzzards open me up and get away with it?”

  Blake forced his shoulder under Huxley’s arm and hefted him to full height. He hoped they had gained enough time. If they hadn’t, if the outfit below organized quickly, and saw them, they would rush up and it would all be over. But he meant to fight for Huxley as much as for himself now.

  Struggling under the banker’s weight, Blake drove himself up the steep slope. He slipped twice, bruising and skinning his knees. But he went on with the heat tearing at him, the brush scratching, his feet slipping and his leg muscles aching. He reached the bottom of the waterway and saw the rope dangling down where Malder had left it. Blake took hold of it and told Huxley to climb onto his back. Then he took the rope in both hands and started to haul himself up. His boots went out of sight in the soft earth of the waterway but he dragged them out, plodding on and kept struggling upwards. When he reached the top, he collapsed on the ground. Huxley crawled off his back, rolled to the side and lay still, his face turned up into the sunlight, Blake’s bandanna completely soaked with the banker’s blood.

  Blake drew him back into the meager shade of a clump of brush, then checked above him. But there was no sight of Malder, his daughter, or Chad Latimer. Blake left Huxley to fend for himself and went down the waterway. He found Sundown waiting only a short distance down from its end, having come up after him. Blake wrapped the rope about the horse’s rump, took the end up past Sundown’s neck, then dug his heels in fiercely. The big horse responded gamely and with Blake taking in the slack with every step and hence stopping Sundown from sliding back down the waterway, they went foot by foot up the long slippery track. Fifteen minutes later, with Sundown in a lather of sweat, Blake worked the horse onto level ground and dropped to the ground. He lay there, drawing breath into his lungs and wondering whether any of them would live to see sundown.

  Chapter Six

  A Long, Long Day

  FOR THE NEXT two hours after he had rested, Blake Durant led Sundown up the steepest part of the long slope. Huxley was seated on Sundown but only under protest. His wound had bled badly and without water or bandages, Blake could do little for him. His bandanna was already soaked with blood and had stopped some of the flow of blood, but not all of it. So he knew it was imperative to get Huxley to the next camp where he could rest and get some better attention.

  He struggled on, with the sun burning relentlessly down. There was little shade and the wind had dropped. White-faced and in pain, Huxley held onto Sundown and didn’t complain. Then suddenly, just when Blake doubted if he could go on much further, Jerome Malder came slithering down towards them. Malder studied Huxley intently for some time before he mouthed a curse.

  “He looks bad,” he told Blake Durant.

  “He is bad. Is your daughter up to nursing him?”

  “She can cope,” Malder said tightly. He took the reins of Sundown from Blake and tugged the big black up the rest of the steep slope to a level section. Jennifer Malder, her hair straggled across her features looked tiredly down on them. Chad Latimer was leaning against a tree. He smiled bitterly and offered no help. Blake climbed the last few yards and lowered himself tiredly to the ground. He heard Malder asking Jennifer to tend to Huxley, then Malder came and joined him. Blake by then had both guns in his gunbelt. He turned his hip away from Malder’s reach, just in case.

  “It was bad, Durant?” the Mayor asked.

  “I’ve been through worse.”

  “We heard the shooting. Hell, how many of them were there?”

  “They brought the whole bunch.”

  “Twenty?”

  “About that.”

  Blake could not have cared now if there were a hundred of them. His hands were blistered from tugging for so long on the reins. His wrists were swollen and his forearms ached. On top of that, his legs carried a deep ache which he knew was the forerunner of cramp. If he didn’t get a good deal of rest now, he knew he would be the one to slow them up.

  “How many did you stop?”

  Blake ran a hand tiredly across his sun-scorched features. He wanted a drink badly. “Four on my count. I don’t know about Huxley.”

  Malder turned and studied Tom Huxley intently. He could not believe that this was the same man who had stood behind Lodge Creek’s bank counter and done business with himself and the town. Huxley had aged but more than that, he had become drawn and almost broken. For the first time in the seven years Malder had known Tom Huxley he felt a measure of deep sympathy and warmth for him.

 

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