The Desperate Deputy of Cougar Hill (12 page)

From below someone shot. Cameron heard the bullets strike the slope well below him, and he kept on with his reloading. Then he bellied down again and studied the situation. Larabee and Arker were riding apart, making two targets instead of one. And they were coming on once more.

Cameron began shooting. He could not bring himself to kill in a situation like this. It would be murder, little different from shooting them in the back. The law had been grained into him too long. With the odds even, he would shoot to kill — if they attacked first. Until then, he worked to gain the time he needed.

The pattern of lead he laid down brought both riders to a halt again. Now he sent his shots closer. They turned and rode out of easy range. And here they left their saddles. Cameron laughed out loud. It looked as if he had got the time he needed.

He crawled backward until he could stand up with no risk of being seen. Hurrying to the roan, he took the reins and led it forward. He lifted his head to find the timber and judge how long it would take him to reach that temporary safety.

There were no trees at the end of the bench. They showed in the distance, at the back of a second bench that lay behind this one like a giant step. Cameron swore. His memory had tricked him, blending the two flats into one. And the width of this bench shook him. Leading the roan at this pace, it would be dark before he reached the far side.

He walked until he decided the roan had had rest enough. Mounting, he rode at a fair pace until he could feel the animal tiring again. Then he left the saddle and began walking once more. The last of the sun disappeared as he reached the foot of the short, steep trail that led up to the higher bench. Cameron paused to look back. The trail was empty. But it wouldn’t be for long. Men like Larabee and Rafe Arker couldn’t be bluffed forever. As soon as they risked moving into gun range by the lip of the bench, they would know he was no longer up there with his carbine. Then they would come on fast enough.

Cameron walked the roan to the top of the trail. On level ground once more, he climbed into the saddle. His days in bed had begun to tell on him. The strain of that last steep quarter mile had drained him. He looked ahead in the dusky light, blinking to clear his swimming vision.

The timber looked frighteningly far away. But halfway across the bench and a good twenty yards to the right of the trail was a tumble of boulders. He angled toward them and saw that they hung on the edge of a drop-off that fell into a canyon shrouded in darkness.

The roan stumbled. Cameron said wearily, “It’s the end of the ride for both of us,” and slid out of the saddle.

He studied the tumble of rocks. Some of them were huge, great chunks of granite tossed and left here by some ancient glacier. He found two leaning together, forming a half cave. Behind them, shielded from the trail, was a tiny clearing, grassy thanks to a seep of water. Leading the roan into the clearing, Cameron stripped off-its gear and put it on a short picket line. Then he took the carbine and climbed laboriously to the top of a nearby flat rock. He lay quietly, looking through the dusk downtrail.

Darkness came and with it the icy fingers of cold air probing down from the mountain peaks looming up behind the timber. Cameron felt his side stiffening. He would need fire, he realized. Tired as he was, he had little enough resistance. At this height, pneumonia could catch him before the night was out.

He used the last of the dusk to spot a deadfall hanging on the rim of the canyon at his back. It was some distance away and getting to it meant stumbling over rocky ground. Then he had to drop over the edge of the canyon and break off those branches thin enough to give in to his draining strength. By the time he started back, it was full dark, with only the bright, hard stars for light, and he nearly missed the refuge of rocks. The whinny of the roan, asking for company and comfort, turned him at the right moment, and finally he was under the stony canopy, talking to the horse and half collapsed on top of his pile of wood.

After a time he managed to stir and build a small fire. He had no food except the small emergency ration he had long ago learned to keep in his saddlebags — bread, cheese and a handful of coffee along with the can to cook it in. The bread was stale after its days of lying in the leather bag, and the cheese was sweaty from the hot sun. But he managed a meal, washing it down with coffee gulped out of the can.

He kept the fire small, both to save wood and to keep it from being seen if Arker and Larabee should reach the bench tonight. But the rock walls on two sides caught the heat and threw it back and so he felt it driving the mountain chill out of reach.

When the moon rose, he climbed to the flat-topped rock and looked down the trail. Nothing moved along it. A faint glow in the distance and well below his level caught his eye. A fire down on the other bench! Cameron crawled back to his half cave and readied himself for sleep.

The clink of metal on rock and the feel of the ground trembling under the stride of something heavy brought him dazedly to his feet. He gaped at the gray light seeping in around him. He realized that it was well past dawn. His tired body had betrayed him. He had slept a good hour past the point of safety.

Quickly now he squirmed up the flat-topped rock. Arker and Larabee had come, as he feared. They were approaching the tumble of rocks — but not from below. They came from the direction of the timber. It took him a moment to realize what had happened. Then he understood. They had ridden on past the rocks, thinking he had got as far as the timber. But Arker must have noticed the lack of sign at the edge of the trees, where the dirt would be soft from heavy shade. It would not have taken Larabee long to spot the rocks and guess that Cameron was hiding in them.

They led the pack pony now and Cameron guessed that Arker had left it somewhere along the trail earlier and gone back for it before making camp last night. The big pack bulged and Cameron thought hungrily of the food that must be in it.

Then the nearness of the two men brought his mind back to the reality of the moment. He swore as he realized he had left the carbine below. Awkwardly he drew his handgun and rested the barrel on a small up-thrust of rock in front of him. They stopped suddenly, still out of range of his forty-four, and he wondered if they had seen him.

Then he saw Larabee glance behind himself, eastward. The first hint of the rising sun shone behind the peaks in that direction. Larabee leaned toward Arker and spoke at length. Arker’s big body shook and Cameron heard his laughter boom out, carried clearly on the still, cold air.

Cameron frowned, wondering what their plan might be. He guessed that they were sure he was in the rocks, and that they were staying well away until the right moment came to move in.

The sun topped a ridge, and now Cameron saw Larabee’s strategy. The brightness struck Cameron full in the face, blinding him from seeing anything straight ahead. He had a blurred glimpse of Arker making a wide swing to the left and Larabee following suit to the right. He fired, knowing it was a hopeless act as he pulled the trigger.

Even if he could have seen through the bright light of the sun, he could not handle both men at the same time. One of them was bound to make it close enough to the rocks to be out of range — unless he was willing to risk stepping into the open for a showdown. And, he knew, with the sun behind them, Larabee and Arker held the long end of the odds.

The chatter of hoofs on rock and the shaking of the ground as the bay and the big palomino plunged toward the rocks told Cameron what was happening. He ducked his head to the side, away from the blinding sunlight. He looked to his left, one hand up to shield his eyes. He had a glimpse of Arker and the palomino, with the pack horse stumbling along behind, duck into shadow and disappear. They would be close to the rocks now, too close for Cameron to see them from his position. He twisted to his right. Larabee was coming up fast on the bay. Cameron fired at him. Larabee answered, spraying the rock with lead, forcing Cameron to lie flat. Then Larabee was also too close in to be an effective target.

Cameron dropped off the rock and into the half cave. There was only one way in here, along a topless tunnel stretching eastward. As long as his bullets held out, they couldn’t reach him.

Nor could he reach them, he realized.

He grinned sourly. It was stalemate.

And then he remembered — there were two of them to take turns standing guard. He was only one, and sooner or later he would have to sleep. And they had the food. He had only an empty belly.

From beyond the end of the tunnel, Larabee’s voice came clear and mocking: “You might as well come out now, Roy. You’ve got nothing to wait for. Not anymore.”

Cameron squatted down with his back to the rock wall. From this position he could see the yellow splotch of sunlight at the mouth of the tunnel. Anyone coming after him would have to step through the sunlight and into shadow. He would have a perfectly outlined target while his opponent would be temporarily blinded by the dimness.

It was his round — as long as he could stay right here.

L
ARABEE AND
Arker stayed out of sight of the tunnel mouth. They moved around restlessly, talking in low tones. Cameron could hear everything they said and did — the tunnel sucked in sound and carried it to him plainly. He listened to them set up camp — building a fire and starting coffee cooking. His stomach growled at the rich odor.

From the sharpness in Larabee’s voice, Cameron realized that his patience was wearing thin. Cameron wondered if he could keep Larabee that way. If so, he might have a chance. An impatient man was a man who made mistakes.

Larabee said, “I can’t spend any more time here. I have to get to town.”

“You got all day and half the night before we hit the bank,” Rafe Arker said. “We’ll get both Cameron and the kid in plenty of time.”

“Remember, Cameron was going to stand guard,” Larabee said. “When he played the fool and refused, I thought we’d have to take all the risk ourselves. But now I’ve figured something that might even be better than the original plan.”

“It better be good,” Arker warned. “I ain’t going to risk passing up my share of that gold. I got plans for it. After this winter is over, the man who’s got money’ll be able to buy up half the valley. And that’s going to be me. Without the gold, there ain’t many ranchers who can ride through another year.”

“It is good,” Larabee assured him. “And it solves all our problems — Cameron, the kid, those fools in town getting suspicious of us.” He laughed abruptly. “By the time Cameron and the kid are found — if they ever are — it’ll be too late for anybody to do anything. Meanwhile, those Cougar Hill yokels can spend their time hunting for Cameron to arrest him for robbing the bank!”

Arker’s grunt was skeptical. “By God,” he said, “I’d like to see you make Balder and the rest think Cameron ain’t a little tin god.”

“That’s why I have to get to town before long,” Larabee said. A lazy chuckle replaced some of the sharpness in his voice. “How did you think I was going to get Cameron to stand guard for us tonight?”

Arker made no reply. Larabee went on, “Because I told him I’d spread the word about his having been in prison. You know how Balder would take that!”

“He’d throw you out of his office,” Rafe Arker said.

“Hardly. Because I have proof,” Larabee purred. “I have a copy of the record that was made when they arrested Cameron.” His chuckle grew stronger. “By the time I finish with my story, every man in town will be on the lookout for him. Even if he managed to get away from us, he wouldn’t find much help in these parts — not after I get through with him.”

“He ain’t going to get away,” Arker rumbled. He grunted again. “But I don’t see what good all this is going to do. If you got everybody on the lookout for Cameron, you won’t be able to get within a mile of that bank tonight. It’ll be surrounded by guards three deep.”

“That’s right, it would be,” Larabee agreed complacently. “But not tonight. Because I’m going to tell Stedman and Balder that I overheard Cameron and a pair of strangers planning to hit the bank tomorrow night — when everybody was off-guard. I’ll explain that until I heard the talk, I didn’t think it my business to expose Cameron’s past. But now I have no choice, since I’m a very law-abiding man.”

He went on, obviously pleased with himself, “Don’t forget, Arker, that in the eyes of men like Stedman and his friends, I’m a first class citizen. A wealthy businessman. And to Stedman’s type, that kind can do no wrong.

“Besides, some of the money in that bank is mine — a good faith deposit I made when I first came here. It’s only logical that I try to protect it.”

“Even so,” Arker argued, “that don’t mean Balder’ll have any fewer guards around the bank tonight than he will tomorrow.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Larabee said with impatience. “This is Saturday. Tonight, all the crews that have come down out of the hills will be celebrating. The army will have taken away all but the last few head of stock and the bank will be full of gold everybody plans to get on Monday. By midnight, how many men will be sober enough to stand guard for Balder?”

“A pair in front, maybe. Two in the alley for sure,” Arker said.

“Exactly. And those two in the alley are going to be relieved just before one o’clock in the morning. By the Dondee brothers, or one of them and Farley.”

“If they don’t want to be relieved, what then?”

“We’ll take care of them,” Larabee said. “Remember, they’ll see only two men. But I’ll be there too. And three against a pair is pretty fair odds.”

“What about me?” Arker asked. His voice thickened slightly with suspicion.

“I told you before I didn’t want you in town,” Larabee snapped. “Anybody would recognize you and that palomino two blocks off. You and one of the Dondees or Farley will have camp set up in that hideout over the south pass that you told me about.”

“You better have Joe with you,” Arker said. “He and me are the only ones can find that place.”

“As soon as we get the gold,” Larabee said, “we’ll ride up and hide it — where each of us can watch the others. Then you and Farley hit for your ranch and the Dondees for their mine. I’ll circle in the hills and come out by Obed Beggs’ place, claiming I was hunting for Cameron. When things quiet down, we’ll help ourselves to the gold and each can go his own way.”