The Loner: Seven Days to Die (9 page)

Instinct and superb reflexes, despite his long confinement, allowed The Kid to fire first. The sharp crack of the rifle in his hands was deafening in the narrow confines of the chimney.

The guard jerked back out of sight. The Kid levered another round into the Winchester’s chamber and clawed his way to the surface.

As he emerged from the hole in the top of the cliff, he threw himself onto his belly. A shot blasted at that instant, the bullet whipping over his head, missing him by no more than six inches.

Lying on his belly, he triggered a round at the second guard. The .44-40 slug ripped through the man’s thigh and knocked him off his feet. His rifle went flying.

The Kid jerked his head from side to side, looking for the other man. Relief went through him as he spotted the man lying on the ground a few yards away, clutching a bullet-shattered shoulder and whimpering in pain.

The Kid felt an unexpected pang of sympathy as he recognized the man as Smithson, the guard who hadn’t actually befriended him but had treated him with more respect than some of the others. He was glad his shot hadn’t killed Smithson.

Sympathy didn’t stop him from leaping to his feet and kicking both rifles away from the men who had dropped them. He swung the Winchester in his hands back and forth to cover both wounded guards.

“It’s clear!” he called down to Drake.

“Get on up there, you bitch!” Drake ordered Jillian Fletcher. Sobbing, she emerged from the hole, followed closely by Drake.

The first thing he did was snatch up one of the rifles. Now that Drake was armed, too, The Kid thought it would be safe for him to take a second to look around at their surroundings.

The mouth of the natural chimney had a cluster of small boulders around it. The heavily wooded slope of a mountain rose to his left. The Kid thought that was west. To his right, about fifteen feet away, was the sheer drop-off of the cliff, running north and south farther than the eye could see.

That was why it took so long for guards to get up there, The Kid realized. They had to ride a long way to get to a trail that led to the top of the cliff.

The pair of saddled horses Smithson and the other guard had ridden to the top were tied to small trees nearby. The Kid was mighty glad to see them. Those horses represented freedom.

“Come on, Drake,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

“In a minute,” Drake snapped. “We’ve got time.” He turned to Jillian and caught hold of her arm, squeezing it cruelly. “You bitch,” he said again. “I told you what’d happen to you if you let out a peep while we were climbing up here.”

From the ground, the guard who’d been wounded in the leg by The Kid said, “Let her go, Drake. You’re out. You don’t need a hostage anymore.”

“The hell I don’t,” Drake replied with a sneer. “Fortune dropped the warden’s daughter right in my lap. You reckon I’m gonna turn down that gift?”

“You said you’d let her go,” The Kid reminded him.

“Well, I changed my mind. Just for playing that little trick she did, she’s coming with us.” Drake shoved Jillian at The Kid with such force he had to grab hold of her to keep her from falling. “Get her on one of those horses and climb up behind her. I’ll finish up here.”

The Kid was about to ask him what the hell he meant by that, when Drake swung up the rifle he held and fired, driving a slug into the forehead of the guard with the wounded leg. Jillian screamed as the man’s head jerked back and seemed to balloon for a second before blood and brain matter exploded out of it.

With his hands full of Jillian, The Kid couldn’t stop Drake before the man worked the rifle’s lever and blasted another shot through Smithson’s skull, killing him as well.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The Kid shouted.

“Making sure there’s nobody to tell them which way we went,” Drake answered coolly. “As well as getting a little payback for the way I was treated down here in Hades. Don’t lose any sleep over those guards, Kid. Fletcher’s Satan, and the guards are his little imps. They had it coming.”

The Kid didn’t believe that, but the men were already dead and there was nothing he could do for them.

Drake went on, “I told you to get that girl on a horse. Unless you’d rather me do it—”

Jillian cried out and cringed against The Kid. She might be afraid of him, but she was mortally terrified of Drake.

“Come on,” The Kid muttered as he turned toward the horses. He kept a hand around her arm to make sure she didn’t get away.

Even though it sickened him to admit it, he knew Drake was right about one thing: having Jillian with them would make their pursuers a lot more cautious and less eager to start shooting. He told himself he would keep her safe for the time being, and they could release her later.

A glance behind them revealed that Drake was busy rolling boulders over the opening to block any of the guards from climbing up after them. It must have been discovered that they had escaped.

As he and Jillian reached the horses, he told her in a low voice, “Just cooperate for now. I won’t let him hurt you.”

“You…you can’t stop him,” she replied in a choked voice. “He’s a monster!”

The Kid couldn’t deny that, not after he’d seen Drake cold-bloodedly execute both guards. “We’ll get away from him,” The Kid promised. “There’s no reason we have to stay together.” He had agreed to help Drake escape, but now they were quits. They didn’t owe anything to each other anymore.

Of course, Drake might not see it that way, especially where Jillian was concerned.

The Kid would deal with that when the time came. He wanted to put as much distance between him and Hell Gate Prison as he could. He urged Jillian to climb up on one of the horses, jerked the animal’s reins loose, and swung up behind her.

Drake untied the other horse and mounted it. “Let’s go,” he said, kicking the horse into motion and heading up the slope.

The Kid followed.

There was nothing else to do.

Drake seemed to know his way around those mountains. When The Kid asked him about that when they paused to rest the horses an hour or so later, the outlaw explained, “I spent some time in these parts a few years ago, before they ever started building that damn prison.” Drake chuckled. “I was running from the law then, too.”

“I haven’t seen anybody behind us,” The Kid commented.

“Oh, they’re back there,” Drake said. “It’s hard to follow a trail in country this rugged, but it’s not impossible. Some of those guards Fletcher has working for him are supposed to be pretty good trackers.”

“We need to shake them off.”

“We will, don’t worry. I know some trails that not many others do, if you get my drift.”

“Owlhoot trails, you mean.”

Drake grinned. “Don’t sound so damn superior. You’re every bit as much an outlaw as I am now, Kid.”

The Kid glanced over at Jillian Fletcher. She was sitting on a log, her face pale and tear-streaked but composed. She wasn’t crying anymore.

He nodded toward her and said, “You could tell her I’m not Bledsoe. She already halfway believes it.”

Drake laughed. “What difference would that make? You think you could turn around and go back now? You’d put your life in that madman’s hands with nothing more to back up your story than the word of an escaped prisoner and a hysterical girl you kidnapped? Who just happens to be the warden’s daughter, I might add.”

Jillian looked up from the log. “You’re really
not
Ben Bledsoe?” she asked The Kid.

“That’s right,” Drake said. “He’s not. He’s some gunfighter called Kid Morgan who just happens to look a lot like Bledsoe. He tried to tell that to your pa, but high-and-mighty Warden Fletcher wouldn’t believe him.”

“I…I wondered…”

“That’s the reason I had to break out,” The Kid said grimly. “The only way to prove I’m not Bledsoe is to find the real one and bring him back. Maybe then I can get on with my life.”

And what a bitter life it was, The Kid reminded himself. Drifting in and out of trouble, mourning his murdered wife, tormenting himself with memories.

“I’m sorry,” Jillian whispered. “You mean my father…did what he did to you…for nothing?”

“Are you talking about the way he whipped me within an inch of my life?” It was a harsh thing to say. He saw Jillian wince a little at his words. He softened his tone slightly as he went on, “I couldn’t tell him what he wanted to know. I don’t have any idea where Bledsoe’s loot is cached. He’s going to have to ask the real Bledsoe if he wants to find out about that.”

Jillian looked down at the ground and didn’t say anything after that.

They moved on a short time later. Drake proved to be right about knowing the lonely trails. He led them through narrow gashes with rock walls rising more than a hundred feet on either side of them. He took them across rock bridges that spanned dizzying chasms and made The Kid glad the horses were surefooted. Brush-choked ravines that appeared to be impassable had paths through them after all, and Drake knew where to find them.

It was a zigzagging course. By late afternoon, The Kid estimated they had ridden a good thirty miles, but Hell Gate probably wasn’t more than ten or fifteen miles behind them in a straight line.

The Kid’s belly was empty. He wouldn’t have thought he would miss that greasy stew so much. He hadn’t gotten breakfast that morning, he reminded himself.

There were plenty of creeks in the mountains, so they wouldn’t go thirsty, but the lack of supplies might prove to be a problem. “We have to find something to eat,” he told Drake. “Maybe we could trap a rabbit or something.”

They had spotted deer and other wild game during the day but didn’t want to risk a shot or a fire to cook anything they might bring down.

“Don’t worry,” Drake said. “You ought to know by now, Kid, that I’ve always got a plan.”

“Well, if you do, I’d like to know what it is.”

“I haven’t been just leading us around these mountains at random. I had a destination in mind as soon as we left Hell Gate.” Drake pointed to the shoulder of a mountain rising above them. “There’s a cabin in a little valley about a mile from here where gents in my line of work stop over from time to time.”

“You’re talking about a hideout.”

Drake shrugged. “Call it what you want. Fellas who use it leave some supplies there if they can. There’ll be jerky, canned peaches, things like that that’ll keep. No lawman knows about it. The girl’s pa sure as hell doesn’t. We can spend the night there safely.”

“All right,” The Kid said with a nod. “That sounds pretty good.” And in the morning, they could go their separate ways, he added to himself.

They rode on with Drake continuing to lead the way. Dusk was settling down over the rugged peaks around them when they topped a little rise and looked down into the narrow valley Drake had mentioned.

The Kid could barely make out the cabin. It was tucked into a stand of trees and blended in with them. He could believe that no lawman knew about the hideout in that high, lonesome country.

But somebody sure did, he realized, because a thin thread of gray smoke rose from the stone chimney, almost but not quite completely blending in with the graying sky.

There were horses in the pole corral built onto the side of the cabin. The Kid saw them moving around a little.

Drake could see everything that The Kid did. He said softly, “Well, well. Looks like we’re gonna have to share.”

And then he looked pointedly over at Jillian Fletcher.

Jillian saw the look and shrank back against The Kid, her face going taut with fear.

“Forget it,” The Kid said. “We’ll find some other place to hole up.”

“There isn’t any other place, at least not around here.” Drake shook his head. “Take it easy, Kid. I know what I’m doing. The girl’s going to be a distraction, that’s all.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There are four or five horses in that corral. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like two-to-one odds. We’re going to have to have some sort of advantage.” Drake nodded toward Jillian. “She’s it.”

“You…you’re going to…trade me to them?” she asked in a quavering voice.

Drake grunted. “Not exactly. Morgan, tear her dress so they can get a good look at one shoulder.”

“What?”

“I’d do it myself, but you’d probably take offense and start a ruckus,” Drake observed with a note of exasperation in his voice. “We want those old boys in that cabin looking at Miss Fletcher, not at us. That way we can get the drop on them. We’ll tie them up for the night, then in the morning we can take their guns and some of their supplies and leave them with just a couple horses so they’ll have to ride double. That way they can’t come after us.”

Now that Drake had explained, the plan sounded workable. The Kid didn’t like the fact that it would put Jillian in danger, but he didn’t see any way around it. Jillian would remain in danger until they got to the point where they could split up. Then he would see to it that she was left somewhere safe, like on the outskirts of a settlement.

“All right, but she can do the tearing herself,” he said. “Is that all right with you, Miss Fletcher?”

“You want me to…tear my clothes?”

“Sorry,” The Kid told her. “Like Drake said, it’ll help us get the drop on those men without a lot of shooting and killing.”

Jillian thought about it for a second before sighing and nodding. “All right,” she said as she reached up to the collar of her dress. “If you think it’s best.”

She tugged on the fabric, but it proved stubborn enough that in the end, The Kid had to help her rip it so the dress hung loose from a bared shoulder.

“How’s that?” he asked Drake.

The man shrugged. “Might be better if a little more skin was showing, but I reckon it’ll do. Here’s how we’ll handle it. You’ll walk down there and stop outside the cabin, miss. Morgan and I will circle around and get on either side of it. You yell for help, and when those men look out and see you standing there, they’ll come out to see what’s going on. Then Morgan and I will throw down on them and make them drop their guns.”

“You’re trusting me not to run away?”

Drake gave her a wolfish grin in the fading light. “Where are you gonna run to? We’re miles from the prison and farther than that from any town. There’s nobody up in these mountains except panthers and bears and outlaws, and night’s coming on. You wouldn’t make it until morning, Miss Fletcher.” He nodded toward The Kid. “Your best bet to stay alive is to cooperate with us.”

“All right,” she said in a small voice. “I’ll do it.”

“Now you’re being smart. Give us about five minutes to get in position. Kid, you take the left, I’ll take the right. There are enough trees all around that cabin to let us get pretty close.”

The Kid nodded. “I understand.”

He stayed in the saddle and helped Jillian down from the horse. When she looked up at him worriedly, he told her, “You’ll be fine.”

“Just don’t think about trying to double-cross us,” Drake warned. “I promise you, you’d be a whole hell of a lot worse off with those hombres than you are with us.”

Jillian gave The Kid an intent look and said, “I know.”

She was counting on him to protect her. He hadn’t wanted that responsibility, but now that it had been thrust upon him, he couldn’t ignore it. Rebel’s death had hardened him inside, left a cold spot in his heart that might never warm again, but still, he was Frank Morgan’s son. There were some things he just couldn’t dodge.

“Let’s go,” Drake said. “We don’t want to lose all the light. Don’t make any more noise than you have to, Morgan.”

The Kid nodded and turned his horse. He moved off to the left along the rise and began angling down into the valley on a course that would take him to the side of the cabin.

He wanted to look back at Jillian, but he didn’t. She had a part to play in this game, too, and she would have to play it well for any of them to survive.

The Kid concentrated on approaching the cabin stealthily. He dismounted when he was still a good hundred yards away and moved closer on foot after tying the horse’s reins to a sapling. He stopped behind a thick-trunked pine about twenty feet from the front corner of the cabin.

The daylight continued to fade, but enough remained that he could see Jillian making her way down the hill. She moved quickly, stumbling a little when she glanced back over her shoulder as if afraid someone was after her.

The Kid smiled faintly in admiration. The young woman had sand, no doubt about that, and she was smart. If one of the owlhoots in the cabin spotted her, he would think she was running away from somebody.

Her bare shoulder gleamed in the dusk as she came panting to a halt in front of the cabin, a good fifty feet from the door.

“Hello!” she cried. “Is anybody in there? If there is, you have to help me! Please, help me!”

In his life as Conrad Browning, The Kid had seen a number of stage plays starring famous actresses. None of them had ever given a better performance than the one Jillian Fletcher gave, for an audience of outlaws using a hideout in some isolated New Mexico mountains. She sounded absolutely terrified.

Probably because she was, The Kid thought.

The Kid saw the cabin door swing open. A scruffy-looking man in range clothes stepped out, gun in hand. A ginger-colored beard jutted from his chin.

“Oh, thank God!” Jillian exclaimed as she took a step toward him. “You heard me!”

The man swung his gun up and snapped, “Hold it right there, miss! Who are you? What in blazes are you doin’ out here in the middle o’ nowhere?”

Jillian stopped and held her hands out imploring. “You have to help me. I-I’m lost. My horse threw me, and I’ve been wandering in the woods for hours, and I-I think something was chasing me! It sounded like…like a bear!”

“You’re alone?” the ginger-bearded outlaw asked, his voice still edged with suspicion.

“Of course. I got separated from the rest of my party. They were hunting, and…and I don’t know where they are…”

She was improvising, The Kid knew, but she was doing a good job of it.

The man chuckled. “Some rich folks out on a huntin’ expedition, eh?”

“That’s right,” Jillian agreed.

The Kid heard the greed in the outlaw’s voice as the man went on, “I’ll bet your friends are mighty worried about you. They’d probably pay a pretty penny to get you back safe and sound.”

“That’s right! I’m sure there would be a reward.”

It wouldn’t be a reward, thought The Kid. It would be ransom. And Jillian likely wouldn’t be returned all that safe and sound. There was no telling what sort of indignities she would have to endure at the hands of that bunch, even if they did decide to keep her alive and try to cash in on that.

His hands tightened on the rifle he held. As soon as all the men came out of the cabin, they would find that
they
were the prisoners, not Jillian.

The corral was on The Kid’s side of the cabin. He was close enough to get an accurate count of the horses inside it. There were four mounts, four saddles hanging on the fence. Three men were still inside the cabin.

“Come on out, fellas,” the bearded outlaw called as he lowered his gun. He had obviously decided Jillian didn’t represent a threat. “Look what Lady Luck done dropped right in our laps.”

He walked closer to her. She retreated a step, saying, “You…you won’t hurt me, will you?”

“Hurt you?” the man repeated. “Aw, honey, we wouldn’t never hurt a pretty little gal like you. We’re gonna take real good care o’ you until we can get you back to your folks.” Leering, he looked back over his shoulder at his three companions, who had come out of the cabin. “Ain’t that right, fellas?”

The three men crowded up behind him, clearly eager to get a better look at Jillian. Their guns were holstered, and as the four of them approached her, the first man pouched his iron, too.

The Kid knew he wouldn’t get a better chance. He stepped out from behind the tree, leveled his rifle at the four outlaws, and called, “Hold it! Drop your guns!”

They spun toward the sound of his voice, hands clawing at their holstered revolvers. The Kid expected them to freeze once they saw that he had the drop on them, but if they didn’t, he would open fire and Drake would, too.

Drake didn’t wait. A rifle cracked on the other side of the cabin, and one of the outlaws pitched forward as a .44-40 slug smashed into his back.

The Kid muttered a curse. They had been so close to ending it without any gunplay, but there was no longer any chance of that. Drake’s shot had started the ball, and there was no calling it back.

The Kid’s sights were leveled on the chest of the ginger-bearded outlaw. He squeezed the trigger and felt the Winchester’s butt kick against his shoulder as the rifle cracked.

The owlhoot’s gun was halfway out of its holster, but he dropped it as he staggered back a step and pawed at the hole where The Kid’s bullet had driven deep into his chest.

Swinging the rifle toward the two men who were still threats, The Kid jacked the lever and fired again. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Jillian had spun around and was running away, getting out of the line of fire. That was good, he thought as he levered and fired a third round, then a fourth.

From the other side of the cabin, Drake’s weapon continued to roar, too.

Acrid powdersmoke stung The Kid’s nose as he stopped firing and lowered the rifle a little to peer over the barrel. All four of the outlaws were on the ground, lying motionless. A couple of them had guns in their hands, and he had been vaguely aware during the fight that they had gotten off a few shots.

None of the bullets had come close to him. He hoped the same was true of Drake and especially Jillian.

He looked toward the spot where she had been. He saw her figure disappearing into the shadows gathering on the hillside that overlooked the cabin.

“She’s getting away!” Drake shouted as he ran out into the open. “Go get her, Kid!”

Drake was covering the four owlhoots in case any of them were still alive. The Kid broke into a run, his long legs carrying him across the clearing in front of the cabin and up the slope after Jillian.