The Law of the Trigger (12 page)

Then his memory took him back all the way to his childhood, and he knew where he had seen that look before. His father had been a trader at Camp Supply and Owen had been very young. But he still remembered those times of trouble, when the Plains Indians began to feel the white man's civilization closing tighter and tighter around them, and they rebelled.

Of course, Owen hadn't understood it at the time, but he could still see that helpless anger in the eyes of Comanches and Kiowas and Cheyennes who came to the post to trade. It was the same look he saw now in the faces of these hillpeople, and the look that he had seen more than once in Dunc Lester's eyes.

He felt that he understood these people better. For perhaps these people were the last of the rugged individualists, outlasting the Indians even, but now they saw that they could not hold back the outsiders forever. Perhaps they knew they could not win, which would explain the hopelessness of their anger. But that would not stop them from fighting.

Owen continued to search the distant faces of the horsemen as more of them came out of the timber, and now he recognized the gangly figure of Gabe Tanis, who was talking excitedly to a tall, big-boned man astride a gawdy paint. Dunc Lester made an abrupt, animal-like sound.

“There he is!”

“Ike Brunner?”

“The one talkin' to Gabe.”

Arch Deland had watched quietly, saying nothing. Now he turned to Owen. “He's got quite an army with him. Eighteen men, by my count.”

“Eighteen good men,” Dunc said tightly, to no one in particular. Then, to Owen, “Ike must of sent out the call. Usually he doesn't keep more'n six or eight men at the hideout.” He wiped his hand across his mouth. “So I guess they knew all about us, even before Gabe flushed us.”

Now Tanis was pointing up at the slope where they had been a short time ago, and Ike Brunner kneed his paint to the head of the column. Arch Deland was squinting thoughtfully over the sights of his carbine. “The range is too much,” he said regretfully. “If I had a long barrel it would be easy.”

“It's just as well,” Owen grunted. “We couldn't handle all of them.”

Soon the horsemen had disappeared on the other side of the slope and Owen knew that they would soon find the dead saddle animal and pack horse and figure out what had happened. He stood up wearily and lifted his pack. “We'd better move back into the timber. I doubt if they'll think to look in this direction for a while.”

They started east again up a hard, steady grade. Here the timber became more scattered, and giant boulders reared up out of the ground. Ahead of them they could see the bleak, scrubby line of Killer Ridge, and the broken land in between. They continued their march for almost two hours before they heard the Brunner horsemen returning.

They took cover behind rocks and counted the riders as they topped a crest far to the south. “Ten of them,” Arch Deland said. Owen nodded. “Including Ike Brunner. That means there are still eight of them out there somewhere looking for us.” He looked up at the sun and saw
that
dusk was drawing near.

They went on a short distance until they came on a gaping cave in the side of a hill. The place was grown up in blackjack and spruce, and they broke through the thicket and stood for a moment, gaping in wonder at the dark hole that seemed to reach endlessly back into that great mound of rock.

“We'll wait here till dark,” Owen said. The three of them sank to the ground near the mouth of the cave, and long, cool shadows lay over them as they rested. Dunc Lester was the first to get up, and he stood off at a distance, gazing darkly at the ridge. At last he said, “It won't be easy gettin' up there.”

“We'll have to find a way,” Owen said. “Ike's not going to get far from his headquarters by himself.”

Arch Deland fought his breathing back to normal, but he made no attempt to get to his feet. “Sayin' that ridge is where Brunner's got his hideout,” he said, “and sayin' we manage to get up there somehow without gettin' killed... suppose we do all of that, and get our hands on Ike Brunner in the bargain. Then how're we goin' to get back again? Have you thought about that, Owen?”

Owen shot the old deputy a quick glance. “Yes, I've thought about it.”

“You figured how we're goin' to do all that without gettin' our fool selves killed?”

“No.” Deland laughed. “I haven't either. It poses an interesting problem, doesn't it?”

Owen grinned, showing his relief. Arch Deland might not be so strong in body, but you didn't have to worry about his nerve.

Dunc Lester said shortly, “I think I'll take a look around.”

Owen and Deland glanced at each other as the boy picked up his shotgun, swinging it like an ax to clear a path through the thicket. They watched him climb quickly from rock to rock up the side of the hill until he had disappeared.

Wherever they were headed, Dunc was thinking, they sure meant business. Wes Longstreet looked fit to be tied, and Dunc guessed that the young Arkansawyer had caught the brunt of Ike's rage when Cal was killed.

Dunc glanced about him to get his own position straight. Over to the east, in the general direction in which the three riders were headed, a hill farmer named Manley Cooper had a cabin and a little piece of ground. But, as far as Dunc knew, Cooper had never had anything to do with the gang. Cooper came from hardheaded Dutch stock and didn't have much to do with anybody, which was why he lived up there so far away from anybody.

Dunc was vaguely puzzled when he saw the horsemen ride straight on a course that would take them across Cooper's land, and he thought, Ike ain't goin' to like that at all!

At last the three riders disappeared around the far side of the slope, still holding their course, and Dunc shrugged. It was no skin off his nose. He turned his mind to other things.

From a distance he could have been mistaken for part of the great sandstone slab on which he lay, and the working of his mind seemed almost connected to the immobility of his lean, hard body. Dunc Lester was thinking, and the process was difficult and slow.

For the entire day he had been cussing himself for a damn fool. The three of them didn't stand a chance in a thousand of cutting Ike Brunner away from the herd; and even if they did, it could easily turn out that Ike was a better man that all three of them put together. The marshal was all right, but to Dunc's way of thinking Owen Toller did not have the steel it took to fight a man like Brunner. A wife and family and five years of inactivity had softened him.

Then, as so often happened these days, he found himself thinking of Leah Stringer. It was a funny thing how a man's thoughts could get stuck on something and fix him so he could hardly think of anything else. That was the way it was with him. He could close his eyes and right off he could see her; he could almost feel the silkiness of her hair and the warmth of her hard young body.

That's the way it was and there was very little that he could do about it. It was a fact that he wanted Leah Stringer, and he wanted a cabin of his own here in the hills, and maybe a piece of ground. And he also wanted his folks to come back and live in peace with their neighbors. It didn't seem like so much to ask. A few weeks ago it would have been a simple thing, only of course he hadn't known Leah then.

What it all boils down to, he thought angrily, is Ike Brunner. That was the knowledge that always stopped him when he began to think that the job was foolish and impossible. He had much to fight for. And this made his understanding of Toller and Deland all the more difficult. What were
they
fighting for? What stake did
they
have in these Hills?

This thing worried him, for it was beyond his understanding why these two outsiders should risk their lives hunting Ike Brunner.

Dunc lay there until he became aware of the long shadows and failing light. Quickly he took up his shotgun, dropped like a cat from the stone slab, and began beating his way once more toward the east. He moved quickly and silently, so intent in his study of the ridge that he forgot for a moment about the Cooper place.

Not until he was almost upon the clearing did he begin to sense that something was wrong there. He was instantly aware of his position, and the silence here was unusual, in some way disturbing. Darkness was coming quickly and Dunc knew that he should be starting back for the cave, but this deathlike silence bothered him. Suddenly he reversed his direction and started climbing toward a point from which he could see the Cooper clearing.

When he reached it he knew what it was that had bothered him, and he knew the reason for the uneasy silence. Manley Cooper's cabin and log outbuildings had been burned to the ground, his small field of tobacco and potatoes trampled. There was no sign of life anywhere.

Well, Dunc thought wryly, it looks like somebody else got in Ike Brunner's way. He did not feel any particular emotion on viewing the ruins, for the Coopers had stayed to themselves and Dunc hadn't known them very well. But it did set him to thinking. First the Lesters, now the Coopers.... Maybe some of the folks were beginning to doubt that Ike Brunner was their savior, after all.

It was well past dark by the time Dunc made his way back to the cave. Arch Deland was there by himself.

“Where's the marshal?” Dunc asked.

“Went out to look around, like you. Did you find anything?”

Then they heard movement in the brush below, and Dunc and Deland wheeled around, shotgun and rifle at the ready. “Owen?” the deputy called quietly.

“Yes.” After a moment Owen broke out of the thicket, wiping his face on his sleeve. “Looks like the ridge is our place, all right,” he said wearily. “I think I've found the way the gang gets up there, but there's not much chance for us. There must be three outposts up there, and there's a narrow pass near the top.” He sat down near the mouth of the cave and looked at Dunc. “Did you learn anything, son?”

“I was up at the east end,” Dunc said. “We'd never get to the top with horses, but we might be able to make it on foot.”

“Good!” Owen broke open the grub sack and took out some jerked beef. “The closer we can get to the hideout, the better off we'll be. I don't think Ike will be looking for us in his own back yard.”

“Which doesn't say he might not
stumble
on us,” Arch Deland said mildly.

“That's a chance we'll have to take. We'll eat and get some rest and then try it Dunc's way, at the other end.”

“It won't be easy at night,” Dunc said.

“It would be tougher in the daytime.”

For several moments they said nothing, chewing the tough dried beef as they rested. At last Dunc said, “I saw something kind of funny while I was out. There's an old farmer and his family that used to live over there to the east; his name's Cooper. I came past there and the placer was burned out.”

Owen's head came up with interest. “You mean the Brunners burned him out?”

“It looked that way. Just like my family's place, burned to the ground.”

Arch Deland smiled faintly, but not with humor. “So Ike is having to resort to force.” He looked at Owen. “One thing leads to another when you start that kind of thing. This could be the beginnin' of the end for Ike Brunner.”

“Yes,” Owen said, but all of them knew that the end could be a long time coming. Eventually Ike would go too far, burn out the wrong family, kill the wrong man, and all the hills would turn against him. But that might take months, and in the meantime Ike would be free to loot and kill as he pleased.

“Well,” Owen said at last, standing up, and the others knew what he meant.

“It shouldn't be so tough,” Deland said. “It's getting darker all the time.”

The three men shouldered their packs again, picked up their guns, and Owen said, “You'd better lead the way, Dunc.”

They moved in Indian file away from the cave, climbing up the rocky slope, and soon Owen and Deland were fighting to control their breathing. They stumbled on for perhaps an hour, the clawlike arms of blackjack tearing at them as the trail grew more treacherous. From time to time they stumbled over rocks or roots hidden in the dark shadows and fell. After each fall Arch Deland was slower to get up.

“We'd better rest a minute,” Owen said at last, and the three of them dropped to the ground and did not speak for several minutes.

Then the white underbelly of the moon showed through the curtain of clouds, and they caught a glimpse of Killer Ridge in the distance. “A long piece to travel without a horse,” Arch Deland said with grim humor.

“A horse would never make it, anyway,” Owen said. “Well, we'd better get started if we want to make it before sunup.”

They started again, and this time it was a bit easier, for they began the long downgrade march to the east. Dunc pointed out the direction of the Cooper place, but Owen merely grunted, and Arch Deland was too winded, to speak.

Owen was quick to hear the sound of hoofs. The three men halted and stood like statues on the dark slope, and the horses seemed to be coming right toward them. They could see nothing.

Then suddenly the moon came out again and the hill was bathed in light, and to Owen's eyes the light was brighter than any sun's. The three horsemen, only about twenty yards away, reined lip sharply. One of the men swore harshly and a pistol shot roared among the hills.

Abruptly the night exploded with the thunder of guns, and the horses reared crazily and pranced excitedly along the rocky slope.

Someone shouted a warning, but Owen did not recognize his own voice. He went down on one knee and fired once, twice with his revolver, and almost at the same instant Dunc Lester's shotgun roared. They heard a scream and a horse went racing wildly down the hillside. Still firing, two of the riders jumped from their saddles and raced toward the protection of brush and rocks.

As suddenly as it had appeared, the moon vanished. Darkness covered them like a blanket, and for a moment all was silent.

Owen reached out blindly, crawled through the brush until he felt the cold solidity of stone, and rested briefly against the boulder and tried to think. Then, only a few feet away, he heard Dunc Lester cursing savagely to himself.

“Where's Deland?” Owen called quietly.

Dunc stopped his cursing. “I thought he was with you.”

A chill settled around Owen Toller's heart. “Arch,” he called softly.

There was no answer. He called again, and this time a flash of fire stabbed at the night, but the old deputy made no sound. Calmly Dunc Lester leveled his shotgun and fired at the flash, and then all was quiet again. Owen reached out and touched the boy's arm. “Watch with your ears,” he said.. “Try to keep them where they are and don't let them get us in a cross fire.”

“Where're you goin'?” Dunc asked.

“To find Arch.”

He slipped away from the boulder, feeling out the back-trail with his hands. Then his hand touched a hard leather object and he knew that it was Arch Deland's boot.

“Arch, are you all right?”

He crawled closer and now he felt the stickiness of warm blood just below the buckle of the deputy's cartridge belt. He took a limp hand but felt no pulse. He pressed his ear to Deland's chest and heard the beat. Owen sagged for a moment on his hands and knees while relief washed over him.

“Owen.”

The voice was weak and sounded far away, and it was the most welcome sound Owen had ever heard. “Yes, Arch, it's Owen.”

“Is it all over?”

“Not by a long shot!” And he made himself laugh. “You were born to die in bed!”

“I mean the fight. Is it over yet?”

“Not yet, but I think we got one of them. They must be part of the Brunner gang. We just stumbled onto them.”

The deputy tried to laugh and ended by coughing. “I guess you've got things to do. Don't let me keep you.”

“I'll move you up the hill a bit,” Owen said quietly. “Behind the boulder.”

But a thin, involuntary sound escaped Deland's throat when Owen tried to lift him. Very gently Owen laid the old deputy back down. “On second thought, maybe you'll be better off right where you are. We'll have this thing cleaned up in a minute; then we'll take care of you right.”

“Sure,” Deland said. “Don't worry about me.”

Owen heard the bleakness in that weak voice and felt sick with helplessness. Until this moment he had tried to keep his mind clear and free of emotion, but now he was seized with an anger blacker than the night. He smoothed the ground under Arch's head and tried to make him a bit more comfortable, and that was all he could do. There was very little that he could do about the wound; the bullet had come from a rifle and the hole was small and clean and the bleeding had already stopped.

“Take it easy, Arch,” Owen said tightly.. “I'll try not to drag this out.” Then he picked up the deputy's carbine and crawled back up the hill to where Dunc Lester was waiting.

“How is he?” Dunc asked.

“Rifle bullet in the groin. I couldn't tell how bad.”

Dunc cursed again. “Goddamn it, I ought to of remembered! I saw them when I was out scoutin', but I forgot to tell you.”

“Are they Brunner's men? Did you recognize them?”

“Sure, they're Wes Longstreet and two boys from up toward the Verdigris. Wes is one of Ike's top hands; been with him ever since the gang was formed.”

“Where are they now?”

“They haven't moved, far as I can tell. The last gun flash came from about thirty yards straight ahead.” He sounded vaguely uneasy, but not frightened. “I can't say I like this much. Ike's outposts can't miss hearin' all this shootin', and pretty soon they're goin' to be comin' out to see what it's all about.”

“They can't find us in the dark.”