Luke's Gold

Unaware of the special mission Slater had sent Ned Appling on, the rest of his men had assumed that Ned must have slipped off to go to town the night before. The only speculation among them had been whether or not Ned had quit, or had just decided to have a night out for himself. Slater had issued strict orders for none of the crew to visit the town except on the occasion when it was necessary to drive a wagon in for supplies. Joe maintained that the reason was because Slater was new in the valley and he didn’t want the good citizens of Deer Lodge to see the rough-looking band of cowhands he had hired. In truth, there was more experience in rustling cattle in Slater’s crew of misfits. Like any saddle tramps, they favored the pleasures afforded by the saloons and bawdy houses, but Slater saw to it that there was plenty of whiskey kept at the ranch. Considering the fact that there were no more than a few head of cattle to take care of, there was little reason to complain.

While Joe went to the cabin to alert Slater of the visitor, the others continued to sit and stare at the rider now crossing the tiny stream that trickled down from the hills north of the ranch. “Wonder who’s gonna move up to take Ned’s place?” one of them speculated aloud. They all looked toward Bonner then, thinking there was little doubt who it would be if it came to a contest of strength. Ned had been the one who seemed to have Slater’s confidence, and he was sure as hell the quickest with a gun. He had been the one who hired the rest of them, and even they found it strange that they had been recruited to drive cattle for a wealthy man like John Slater. In fact, it was a common joke among them, until Ned explained that Slater was a man who wouldn’t hesitate to use any means to build his cattle empire, and he needed men who were not troubled by conscience and didn’t ask questions.

With light flurries of snow swirling around him, Cade guided Loco slowly toward the cluster of rough buildings gathered at the foot of a long, rocky ridge. No more than shacks, abandoned by the previous owner, they stood in sharp contrast to the sturdy structures of the Bar-K. Cade looked the spread over as he rode toward the fire by the barn. Evidently, Slater was slow getting started on building his ranch, he thought. There were only a few odd cattle to be seen on the place, and from the looks of the group warming by the fire, it appeared no one was working.

When still fifty yards or so from the men watching him approach, he reached down and pulled his rifle from the scabbard and rested it across his arms, just in case there were others here who, like the late Ned Appling, fancied themselves handy with a gun. No one by the fire moved to meet him as he rode up to about a dozen yards, and no one spoke, as they stoically watched him pull Loco to a stop. He scanned the impassive faces for a long moment, wondering if Slater had found the lot of them in the prison at the south end of Deer Lodge’s main street.

Distracted then by the sight of John Slater emerging from the door of the cabin followed by another man, Cady reined Loco back to hold him steady while he untied the lead rope. Wearing a heavy fur coat, Slater stalked angrily across the yard toward Cade. The silent snowflakes seemed to eddy behind him as he strode forth, his long, dark hair swaying to and fro under his hat. Cade remained silent until Slater marched up to stand defiantly before Loco. Dropping the lead rope to the ground, Cade said, “I believe this belongs to you.”

His eyes blazing with anger, Slater locked his gaze on Cade. Without breaking his relentless eye contact, he ordered, “Get him down from there!” Joe and Bonner immediately stepped forward to lift the corpse from the horse and lay it on the ground.

Cade gave the man a scathing glance. “Poor ol’ Ned,” he repeated sarcastically, “got a bullet in his chest, not his back. He came lookin’ for trouble and he found it.” Loco stamped nervously when a gust of wind blew sparks from the campfire. Cade held the big horse steady while he locked his eyes on Slater again.

“Look around you,” Slater shot back. “You’re a damn fool for ridin’ in here like this.” His angry frown faded slowly to a wicked grin. “I make it five to one—pretty good odds that you won’t make it outta here alive.”

The remark caused a perceptible change in the passive stance of Slater’s men as they at once realized what their boss was threatening. A couple of them moved in a little closer, their hands dropping to rest on their gun butts. “Maybe,” Cade replied, casually swinging the muzzle of his Winchester around to level at Slater, “but I make it dead certain that you’re goin’ with me if the first shot is fired.”

At a standoff then, Slater held his hand up to keep his men in check, realizing that what Cade promised was very much possible. “Get off my land while you’ve still got the chance, Hunter,” he spat. “You’re askin’ for trouble comin’ here in the first place. Ned Appling had a lot of friends. They ain’t gonna be too happy when they find out Ned was murdered. If I was you, I’d get the hell outta this territory before one of ’em catches up with you.”

“Yeah,” Cade replied, “ol’ Ned’s got a lotta friends now that he’s dead. How many did the back-shootin’ son of a bitch have while he was still alive?” He and Slater glowered at each other for a long moment before Cade asked what he came to find out. “I had no quarrel with the man. You sent a paid gunman to call me out. Now, suppose you tell me why you sent him after me. There ain’t no reason for you to be gunnin’ after me, but if it’s got anythin’ to do with the fact that I’m a friend of Elizabeth Walker’s, then you’re a bigger fool than I thought—and a miserable excuse for a man.”

“Goddamn you!” Slater roared. “If you didn’t have that rifle on me . . .” Enraged that Cade would bring up the girl’s name to make him look foolish in front of his men, he pushed his heavy coat back to free his holster, provoked to the point of almost drawing the weapon. Thinking better of it when Cade raised the rifle, preparing to fire, he dropped his hand to his side again, his dark eyes burning with the fury surging through his body. Clenching his teeth, he growled, “Get off my land.” Another gust of wind swirled the snowflakes around the fire, and swept Slater’s long, black hair from his shoulders, for a moment revealing an ear with the very tip of it missing.

The shock slammed Cade’s entire system like chain lightning. Stunned almost to paralysis for a second, he could only blurt the words, “Lem Snider!” In the span of that one jarring instant, it suddenly hit him why something about Slater’s looks had troubled him from the beginning. The man’s appearance had fooled him—the long hair and the absence of the bushy beard, but the clipped ear was no coincidence. The look on Snider’s face when his name was called verified it. He was the man who had murdered Luke Tucker, and that explained why he wanted Cade dead. Snider must have recognized him as the man he had left in the river for dead.

Though only a few seconds passed while Cade was rendered incapacitated by the face-to-face encounter with the man he had vowed to kill, it was enough time to encourage Joe Stover to act. Seeing Cade’s rifle waver slightly, Stover reached for his revolver. Catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, Cade’s reflexes came to his aid. He whipped the Winchester around and cut Stover down before his pistol cleared the holster. The action that followed that shot happened so fast that Cade would have difficulty remembering afterward exactly how he had escaped with his life.

When Cade had been forced to turn and deal with Stover, Snider dived inside the barn door behind him while everyone else scattered for what cover they could find, scrambling to draw their guns in the process. Bonner was able to get to his pistol and get off one shot that passed under Loco’s neck, causing the horse to bolt and Cade to hang on. Another shot from the barn barely missed Cade’s head as his horse took off in a gallop. Realizing the horse had more sense than he did at that explosive moment, Cade laid low on Loco’s neck and retreated under a hail of gunfire.

As he bolted across the tiny stream and raced across the prairie grass, now white with a frosting of snow, he looked behind him to see one of the men jump on Ned Appling’s horse—it being the only one saddled—and give chase. Looking for the right spot to wait for him, Cade picked a low swale in the prairie. Though it offered little cover, he nevertheless pulled Loco to a sliding stop and leaped from the saddle. Cocking the Winchester, he knelt on one knee, aimed at the pursuing rider, and waited for the shot. Ignoring the wild pistol shots that creased the snow on either side of him, he continued to wait until the rider was within a hundred yards. Then, without haste, he slowly pulled the trigger, knocking the man from the saddle.

Safe for the moment, he had time to think about what to do. His brain was still reeling with the shock of finding Lem Snider right under his nose, and he had not been prepared for the confrontation. Had he known, he would have, without hesitation, shot the murdering thief as soon as he stomped out of the cabin. Like flashes of lightning, past images raced through his mind. He thought about the morning when Snider arrived suddenly with an offer to escort Elizabeth to Deer Lodge. There was something about the man that triggered a sour feeling in his gut right from the start. He should have paid more attention to what his instinct was telling him. And later, he should have known that jealousy was not the sole motive for sending a killer to challenge him.

The more he thought about it, the more obvious John Slater was. According to what he had been told when he came to work at the Bar-K, no one really knew much about Slater. Newly rich, it was said he had acquired a fortune as a miner. No one had the means to thoroughly check his story out, even if anyone had cared enough to do so. Cade thought about Luke Tucker’s blood-encrusted body, pumped full of holes, the source of Slater’s wealth, and he felt the fire burning in his veins anew. The sensation was followed at once by the sickening thought of Lem Snider calling on Elizabeth Walker. One thing he knew to be a fact, if nothing else, was that Lem Snider was a dead man.

It was time to slow down his racing brain and think coolly about his course of action to rid the world of the evil presence of this wanton killer. He thought about the location of Snider’s ranch buildings underneath the brow of the rocky ridge. That would be the best approach, from the ridge above the ranch. There was no more time for planning the assassination, however, for some motion on the prairie caught his attention at that point. He looked out beyond the horse with the empty saddle, now standing motionless about fifty yards away from the body lying in the light covering of snow. Three riders were bearing down on him, and not sparing the horses. Snider had not waited for him to call.

“Kill the son of a bitch!” Lem Snider had roared as he ran from the barn and emptied his revolver after the galloping horse. Bonner and Bob Plummer were already emptying their weapons at Cade, but not one shot counted. Knowing he could not afford to let Cade escape to reveal his identity, he yelled, “Saddle the horses! We’ve got to stop him before he gets back to the Bar-K.” When Plummer stopped to help Joe Stover, Slater roared, “Leave him, dammit!” and shoved Plummer ahead of him as he ran to the corral to saddle his horse. His face twisted with rage, he charged out of the corral, hoping Pete, ahead of them on Ned’s horse, would catch up to Cade before he was able to find a place to hide. In a matter of minutes, the horses were saddled, and they took off across the white prairie after Pete.

The sight of Pete Johnson’s corpse only served to further infuriate Lem Snider, and he whipped his horse unmercifully. “Get after the son of a bitch!” he roared. “I want him dead!” Galloping past the body, they suddenly were forced to pull up short when a series of rifle shots singed the air around them. No one was hit, but it was enough to cause them to draw back out of range until they spotted Cade at the foot of a narrow ravine that led back up the mountain behind him.

Satisfied that they had at least caught him before he could get back to the Bar-K, Snider calmed his rage enough to think about the situation. “All right,” he said, “it’s gonna be hard to get a shot at him where he’s holed up.” He thought about the man he’d already left for dead once. This time, he told himself, I’ll make damn sure. I’ll cut his damn head off and see if he comes back from that. At that moment, he couldn’t remember hating a man more—not for Cade’s ability to come back from the dead, but because the irritating young man threatened to explode his new image as a successful rancher. The jealousy over Elizabeth’s apparent interest in the younger man was just a minor reason to rid himself of this nuisance.

His rage under control at last, Snider looked at the two men awaiting his orders. It was a manhunt now, and the odds were in his favor. Looking over the terrain that separated the three of them from their lone adversary, he concluded that to charge the ravine where Cade was holed up would amount to nothing less than suicide. “He thinks he’s in a good spot to sit tight and pick us off if we try to rush him,” he said. “But he ain’t got no way outta that hole if we keep him pinned down. Bob, you’re a better shot with a rifle than either one of us, so you see if you can’t get up a little closer—maybe there.” He pointed to a rise in the prairie about one hundred yards ahead. “You make sure he stays in that ravine. Me and Bonner will work up behind him on that mountain and flush him outta his hole. One of us is bound to get a shot at him.”

Bob hesitated for a moment, looking out across the open expanse of grass between where they now stood and the slight rise in the prairie floor. “That ain’t much cover, even if I do get across that open space,” he complained. He glanced up to meet Snider’s smoldering gaze and quickly added, “I reckon I can make it, though.”

Snider nodded his head slowly, eyeballing Bob intently before he spoke. “You can make it. Hell, you’ll still be just barely in range of that Winchester he’s usin’.” He paused a moment, waiting for Plummer to move. “Get goin’, dammit! I ain’t got all day.”

They waited until Plummer had safely reached the designated spot behind the rise before pulling back and circling around to pick a place to start up the mountain behind Cade. The mountains west of Deer Lodge were a rugged range with the lower slopes dense with fir and pine. Snider was confident that he and Bonner could work their way down upon their target and surprise him. As they climbed on their horses and rode off toward the mountain, they heard the crack of Bob Plummer’s rifle behind them.

Cade heard the bullet thud into the ground a few feet short of the edge of the ravine, but chose not to return fire. He had seen one of Snider’s men driving his horse hard to reach a low rise in the prairie, dismount, and scramble for cover. Cade had not bothered to shoot at him, knowing the range was too great to expect any success, and he was mindful of the number of cartridges he had left. He couldn’t afford to be wasteful. A long-range shoot-out would soon deplete his ammunition.

Seeing that only one of the three had advanced to the position behind the rise, it was not difficult for him determine the strategy they had decided upon. He turned to look at the steep mountainside behind him, a thick maze of trees and rocks. He decided right away that if the roles were reversed, he would definitely pick the high ground. The thought caused him to question his initial wisdom in picking the spot in which he found himself. He squinted out along the base of the ridge, trying to see if he could spot the other two riders, but they had evidently disappeared behind the point of the ridge directly behind him.

It was a question now as to how long it would take them to get to a killing position above him. He decided that his best chance was to find another spot to take on the three of them. Crawling back from the rim, he got to his feet and went to the bottom of the ravine to get his horse. Stepping up in the saddle, he gave Loco his heels, and the big horse sprang into action. Up over the edge of the ravine he bolted, hooves pounding the ground beneath the light covering of snow. Cade heard the shots ring out, both slugs impacting with a hard thump, one in the gray’s neck, the other just behind the girth cinch in the horse’s belly.

Loco’s scream of pain was unlike that he had ever heard from a horse before. In the panic of the moment, Cade did not have the time to think about it, but it would return to haunt him later on. The horse tried to run, but staggered for a few steps before crashing to the ground and sliding several feet in the snow. Cade came out of the saddle and tumbled over and over before coming to rest a few feet from his horse. His first reflexive action was to recover his rifle. Then, although Bob Plummer was firing shot after shot at him, he tried to help his wounded horse. It took but one quick look to realize that Loco was finished. To spare the suffering horse further agony, Cade put a bullet into his head. It was the second time he’d had no choice but to put down a horse. This time, it seemed more difficult than it had with Billy.

With the sobering sound of stinging lead still flying around him, there was no time to mourn the faithful horse. With no other options from which to choose, he hastily grabbed the few extra cartridges from his saddlebag, crawled back to the ravine, and rolled over the edge. As soon as he disappeared from sight, the rifle fire stopped. Sitting there, listening, he suddenly realized his throat was dry, and he wished he had taken his canteen from the saddle horn. He thought about going back for it, but as soon as his head appeared above the edge of the ravine, Plummer opened up with the rifle again. He’s moved a lot closer, Cade thought. He was forced to duck down again. No more time to sit around.

Knowing that Snider and the big fellow that Cade had seen back at Snider’s ranch were most likely already working their way along the slope above him, he knew he had to get out of this hole. His decision made, he hesitated no longer. Running at a trot, he followed the ravine up through rocks and fir trees, intent upon positioning himself higher than the two who were coming to surprise him. As the slope steepened, he pushed on, laboring under the effort, until the forest of firs began to thin out, giving way to solid rock out-croppings and a small mountain meadow. Satisfied that he was surely above Snider and Bonner, he dropped down behind a rock to catch his breath. As his breathing became more regular, he waited and listened.

It was not long before he heard the sound of two horses plodding softly along the ground under the trees below him. Although he could hear them, he could not see them through the dense branches. Heading for the sound, he cautiously made his way back down the mountainside, being careful to expose his body as little as possible, gambling on the idea that their attention would be focused below them.

Again entering the band of trees that ringed the mountain, he stopped frequently to listen. Continuing on down through the dense growth, he stopped again when he came upon the signs of scuffed-up needles where the two had led their horses. Now with a trail to follow, he moved more quickly, but the steepness of the slope caused him to exercise caution lest he stumble and go sprawling down the mountain. Making his way around a sizable boulder, he suddenly caught sight of them. Raising his rifle to fire, he was a split second too late, for they took a turn straight down the slope. Since they were leading their horses, this put the horses between them and Cade and effectively shielded them from his line of sight. Every shot had to count, since he only had the cartridges in the magazine plus a handful of extras, so he lowered his rifle, and continued his careful pursuit.

Guessing that Snider and Bonner had most likely reached the top of the ravine where he had been holed up, he tried to hurry to catch them before they realized he had deserted the spot. He was a few moments too late, for he heard a shout from the bottom of the ravine. “He’s lit out!” Bob Plummer yelled. “I got his horse! He’s on foot and back up behind you somewhere!”

The warning was enough to cause both men to quickly react and take cover behind their horses. Straining to search the forest above him, Lem Snider peered out from under his horse’s neck. Seeing nothing, he ordered, “Get up here, Bob.” He and Bonner continued to scan the trees and rocks higher up the slope while they waited for Plummer to catch up to them. “Spread out,” Snider ordered when Plummer climbed up beside them. “We’ll move up this slope. He can’t have got far. We’ll flush him out.”

Some seventy-five feet above them, Cade waited, his rifle resting in a crevice between two rocks. For several long minutes, there was no sign of the three men stalking him, then suddenly the branches parted below him to his right. He only got a glimpse of a shirt as the man cautiously pushed the branches aside, but it was all he needed. The Winchester bucked, and the cry of pain that immediately followed told him he had hit his target. He ejected the spent cartridge and swung his rifle around, ready to shoot again.

Knocked to the ground by the rifle slug in his chest, Bob Plummer rolled partway down the slope before being stopped against a tree trunk. “I’m shot!” he wailed in agony. Snider moved quickly over toward him, darting carefully from tree to tree. “I’m shot,” Bob moaned again, holding his hands over the hole in his chest. “I think I’m dyin’.”

Snider gave him no more than a casual glance. “Where is he?” he asked, more concerned with getting a shot at Hunter than worrying about the wounded man. When Plummer did not answer right away, Snider called out to Bonner, “Jim! You see where that shot came from?”

Snider took another quick look at the suffering man. “Hell, he’s a goner. See if you can climb up to them trees just below that rock, and I’ll cover you.” He pulled Plummer’s rifle from the dying man’s hand, ignoring the pleading eyes that stared up at him.

Jim Bonner was far from being an intelligent man, but he didn’t have to think that one over before replying. “It’d be a whole lot easier for you to climb up there. You’re right below him. He’d have an angle on me, and I’m a helluva lot bigger target than you are.”

Snider fumed over the situation for a few moments, trying to decide what to do. Hunter had the upper hand at this point. Snider had planned to use Bonner to draw Cade’s fire, possibly giving him a clear shot at Cade. Thanks to the big man’s reluctance to sacrifice himself, Snider was going to be forced to take a bigger risk. He didn’t like taking risks unless he knew he had no choice. Hunter had to die. Snider had too much to lose if people knew the truth about John Slater, a man he had invented. “All right,” he called over to Bonner, “we’ll go up together.” When Bonner didn’t reply, he called out again. “All right?”

“All right,” Bonner responded. He wasn’t sure it was a wise move to leave the thick cover of the firs in an attempt to trap Hunter between them. In his mind, Snider wasn’t paying him enough to take a fifty-fifty chance that Hunter would shoot at Snider, giving Bonner the shot at Hunter. He decided to make a show of following Snider’s orders while not really sticking his neck out too far, until he saw some sign that Snider was not trying to use him as bait.

“Pepper that rock good so he has to keep his head down,” Snider instructed. “That’ll give us a chance to get up in them rocks below him.” He immediately began to lay down a barrage of fire, cocking and shooting as fast as he could. Bonner followed his lead.

For Cade, pressed tightly against the boulder, it was like being trapped in a deadly hailstorm with bullets bouncing off the rock, ricocheting in every direction. Although there was a chill wind sweeping the rocky mountainside, he could feel the dampness of perspiration under his arms while he hugged his stone fortress, waiting for the pause in the barrage. He knew he was going to have to act quickly, anticipating his assailants’ plan, for he knew they were probably on the move while they kept him pinned down. Suspecting they may have pinpointed the crevice he was using as a prop for his rifle, he rolled over to the edge of the boulder and waited. The moment he detected a pause in the firing of at least a couple of seconds, he came up on one knee, his rifle ready. He was in time to get a glimpse of one man, but that was all the time he needed to send a rifle slug slamming into Bonner’s shoulder. He dropped down immediately after pulling the trigger and heard Snider’s bullet ricochet sharply off the rock above his head. As quickly as he could pull the trigger and chamber another round, he sprayed the rocks from where he guessed Snider’s shot had been fired.

Bonner yelped in pain and fell backward. Sliding back down the slope until he felt he was safe, he stared at the hole in his coat. “Slater,” he yelled, calling his boss the only name he knew him by. “I’m hit! The son of a bitch shot me!” He hastily pulled his coat open to discover blood already seeping into his shirtsleeve. “I’m bleedin’ like hell,” he yelled out.

“Shoulder?” Snider responded, while trying to keep an eye on the split boulder above him. “Hell, that ain’t nothin’. Get your ass back up here. We’ll fix up your shoulder after we’re done with Hunter.” It was enough that Plummer had gotten himself killed, without Bonner crying over a shoulder wound. The big son of a bitch had left him to shift for himself, and Snider didn’t like the situation. Hunter had only had two clear shots, and he struck meat both times. The thought crossed Snider’s mind that he needed Curly Jenkins. He could have told Curly to go up that slope and kill the man behind the boulder. Curly was too dumb to question the advisability of it. Snider could still see the stupid expression on Curly’s face on the day he shot him.

He waited a few more minutes, but he saw no sign of Bonner. “Dammit, Jim, hurry up!” he called. His call was met by silence that lasted for several minutes, and then he heard the sound of Bonner’s horse as its hooves clattered on the rocks at the mouth of the ravine below him. You yellow dog! he thought, for he realized then that Bonner had turned tail. In a fit of anger, he rose up in an effort to spot the retreating man, and was immediately startled by a bullet that tore a hole in his coat sleeve. Diving for the cover of the rock, he fumbled to return fire, but was foiled by the lack of a target. Gripped by frustration and anger, he realized that without Bonner, he was at a distinct disadvantage. Hunter held the high ground, and as deadly as he had proven to be with that Winchester, he could sit up there behind that boulder and take potshots at him every time he made a move. The very thought of it caused his blood to boil, knowing that all he had gained with Luke Tucker’s gold could be lost if Cade Hunter was allowed to escape. Yet he couldn’t make a move toward him without risking his neck. He decided to try a different approach.

“Hunter, listen, we don’t have to settle this thing with guns. I know you’re sore for what I done to you and Luke, but, hell, you mighta done the same thing if you’da been me. That dust was as much mine as it was Luke’s.” He paused again. “I might be willin’ to cut you in for a share of that gold, and nobody gets shot. Whaddaya say? Let’s talk about it.”

“Nah, I don’t think I’ll do that. Why don’t you come out from behind that rock, then I’ll come out.” He pulled his revolver from his holster and laid it on the ground beside him. “Listen, I didn’t wanna have to shoot Luke Tucker. Hell, I always liked Luke. It was them two fellers with me that done it. That’s the reason I shot them. They were about to shoot me, too, if I hadn’t been quicker’n they were. I was plannin’ to ask you and Luke for a share. That’s all I was after, but them two boys were wild. They shot you before I could stop ’em.”

“I’m willin’ to do this peaceable. Now, to show you I mean what I say, I’m throwin’ my guns out so you can see ’em. You throw yours out, and we’ll talk about a partnership. There’s still plenty of that dust to split.” He tossed Bob Plummer’s rifle out a few yards from the rock. “Here’s my handgun,” he yelled, and threw the pistol out next to the rifle. “Now you throw yours out, so I know I can trust you.”

If there was one truth in the world that Cade was sure of, it was the knowledge that Lem Snider would lie to Saint Peter if he thought he could get away with it. What Snider could not know was that Cade’s last extra cartridge was chambered in the Winchester. He had been in the process of taking the .44 cartridges from the cylinder of his pistol and loading them in his rifle when Snider threw his weapons out. He quickly replaced the bullets in his pistol. “All right, Snider,” he yelled, “we’ll talk. Here comes my rifle.” He pitched it carefully a few feet from the boulder so that the barrel was pointing downhill. “I don’t have a handgun.” He hoped Snider wouldn’t remember that he was wearing a Colt. It mattered little, for he was certain Snider was not without a weapon. He knew it was risky, but he was determined to avenge Luke’s death, even if it meant a contest to see which liar was quicker. He was down to six cartridges, and one of those was in his rifle lying out on the open ground. He couldn’t afford to continue a long standoff. “All right,” he shouted, “I’m comin’ out!”

Peering through the crevice in the boulder, he saw Snider stick out his arm and signal. Cade quickly moved to the other side of the rock, knowing Snider’s eyes would be focused on the near side. Suddenly lunging from cover, he dived on the ground, his pistol ready, but the steepness of the slope caused him to slide several yards farther than he had planned. Snider, anticipating Cade’s appearance around the near side of the boulder, stepped clear of the rocks just far enough to bring his rifle to bear. The unexpected appearance of Cade at the far side of the boulder forced him to whirl and fire quickly, his shot wide by a foot. With no time to take dead aim, Cade returned fire, also missing, with two shots that ricocheted off the rocks Snider had been hiding behind.

Caught in the open, Cade scrambled back up the slope in an effort to get behind the boulder again. Snider had already jumped back out of sight. Both men had gambled on getting that one clean shot, and neither had been successful. Snider, however, realized that Cade did not have time to get back out of sight. He quickly stepped out in the open again, just in time to see Cade reach the side of the boulder on his hands and knees. There was time for one shot, and he made it count. His bullet caught Cade in the side, causing him to collapse on the ground.

Wincing from the fiery pain in his side, Cade dragged himself away from the edge of the rock, his shirt already soaking with blood. He struggled to slide his back up against a tree trunk behind the boulder. Knowing Snider would be coming to finish him off, he was suddenly emotionally drained with a feeling of failure, for he felt he had let Luke down. Aware of his life’s blood draining from his side, he cocked his pistol, determined to take Snider with him.

Never anxious to charge after a wounded animal, Snider stepped up to the side of the boulder, taking great care. With his rifle trained on the edge of the rock, he gradually eased himself along the cold surface of stone until he was almost to the edge. Then he suddenly stepped clear of it, prepared to shoot, hastily searching for the wounded man. In the time it took for Snider to spot him propped up against the tree trunk, Cade got off two shots. One glanced harmlessly off the side of the rock, the other struck Snider just below the collarbone, spinning him around, causing him to stumble and fall backward.

In a panic to recover, Snider scrambled to his hands and knees, clutching his rifle desperately. He was out in the open, and expected Cade to appear over him at any moment, but Cade did not come. Snider tried to reconstruct the picture he had only seen for a split second. Hunter was propped up against a tree with a bloody stain over half his shirt. In spite of the pain in his shoulder, Snider almost laughed aloud. He ain’t coming after me because he can’t, he thought. He’s gut-shot. Since he felt sure he had the time, he took a moment to judge the seriousness of his own wound. Deciding that it was not life-threatening, he pulled a bandanna from his coat pocket and stuffed it inside his shirt. That’ll hold till I can get into town to see the doctor, he thought.

Keeping a watchful eye on the huge boulder a few yards up the slope from where he knelt, Snider considered his next move. Hunter was no doubt waiting for him to show his head around that rock again in hopes of a lucky shot. Snider weighed the probability that Hunter would bleed out and die, like Plummer. He could just leave him to die, and not risk taking another bullet. But, he argued, maybe he wasn’t hurt as bad as he looked. I’ve already killed the son of a bitch once, and he came back. I’d better make damn sure this time.

Cade knew he was hurt bad. Every time he tried to move, his body confirmed it. There was nothing he could do but wait and do the best he could with the ammunition left in his Colt. He knew he had hit Snider, but he wasn’t sure how bad the wound was. It had been several long moments since Snider spun away from the edge of the rock. Maybe he, too, was badly hurt. And maybe he ain’t, Cade thought, and decided he was going to have to move from the spot he was in the first time Snider peeked around the rock.

The tree trunk he was resting against was not very big, but he pulled himself around behind it, figuring it was better than nothing. He tried to get to his feet, but the pain felt as if he was ripping his insides apart. So he dropped to the ground again and waited, pressing his free hand against the wound to try to stop the bleeding.

Come on, you son of a bitch, Cade thought as the seconds ticked away, and there were no further attempts by Snider. Suddenly a sound on top of the boulder caused him to react, ready to shoot, but he held his fire when he saw a fist-sized rock bounce to the ground. Instinct told him to redirect his aim to the left of the boulder, knowing that the rock had been thrown by Snider in hopes of distracting him. As he figured, Snider stepped halfway out, firing his rifle as he did. The rifle slug buried in the tree trunk, and before Snider could cock and shoot again, Cade fired. His shot was rushed and missed Snider’s chest, ripping into his arm instead. He had time to shoot again, but the second time, there was nothing but the sharp click of the hammer striking an empty cylinder.

Crying out in pain, Snider quickly pulled back to safety. “Damn you!” he roared in pained anger as he took stock of his wounds that now soaked both sleeves with blood. His overpowering rage caused him to ignore the excruciating throbbing near his collarbone. Determined to kill the man who had brought this trouble down upon him, he picked up his rifle again, and started to edge up to the side of the rock. Then a thought struck him, and he paused to consider. In the heat of the exchange of gunfire, something had slipped by him, and it came to him now. After he was shot, there was the sound of a hammer falling on an empty chamber. Hunter’s gun is empty.

With a new sense of urgency, he forgot his wounds, and rushed back to the edge of the boulder, in an effort to get to Cade before he could reload. Not willing to throw all caution to the wind, however, he eased his head around just far enough to see with one eye. What he saw surprised him. Instead of frantically jamming cartridges in his pistol, Cade sat calmly, leaning against the tree trunk, his pistol aimed at Snider. But he did not shoot. Stunned for a moment, Snider realized that he had been staring at the gun for several seconds, and Hunter had failed to shoot.

Gradually, he eased himself away from the rock until he was standing fully exposed to the man holding a gun on him. “You’re out of bullets,” he said, hardly believing it himself. Holding his rifle at his hip and aimed directly at Cade, he moved a step closer, still halfway suspecting a trap, but getting bolder with each step. Finally, he stopped, now no more than a couple of feet from the wounded man. “Ain’t that a shame,” he taunted, “you run plumb outta bullets.”

“Maybe,” Cade answered and pointed his pistol at Snider’s head, causing him to jerk back abruptly and raise his rifle to shoot. But he didn’t pull the trigger when Cade’s gun failed to fire. “Bang,” Cade said softly before tossing the pistol aside.

Standing there with both sleeves of his shirt bloody, a triumphant smile slowly spread across Snider’s face as he fully realized the irony of the moment. “Out of cartridges,” he repeated as if enjoying a great joke. “I bet you’ve been lookin’ for me ever since I shot you and run off with your gold.” He shook his head, mocking the helpless man at his feet. “Well, you found me. A lotta good it did you. You wound up just like ol’ Luke.” He raised his rifle and aimed it at Cade’s face. “Maybe I oughtn’t to finish you off too easy. You caused me a helluva lot of trouble. Maybe I’ll just pump a few more holes in you, so you can die real slow. Only this time, I’m gonna wait you out to make damn sure you don’t turn up again like last time.”

Cade heard the rifle fire, but he did not feel the bullet tearing into his abdomen. Stunned, he looked into Snider’s face, astonished by the stark expression of surprise that suddenly replaced the mocking sneer. Another shot rang out, and Snider dropped to his knees for a few seconds before falling facedown on the rocky ground.

Scarcely able to comprehend what had just taken place, Cade was not sure if his life had been saved or not. The big man he had wounded in the shoulder was out there somewhere. There was no time to do anything about it, however, for in the next second, he heard the sound of a horse’s hooves on the gravel by the boulder. A moment later, leading the horse, Red Reynolds appeared at the edge, a dread look of anticipation etched across his face. “Cade?” he said. “Are you still alive?”

Red grimaced as he considered their predicament. “Well,” he concluded, “I’m gonna have to carry you down offa this mountain. I sure can’t do nothin’ for you up here.” He knew it was going to be painful as hell, but there was no choice in the matter. Cade needed a doctor. “If I can get you up on my horse, you think you can stay on till I get you down to the bottom?”

“All right, then, let’s get to it. You already look like you lost all the blood in you.” He went back to lead his horse in closer. Passing Snider’s body, he paused to roll him over with the toe of his boot. “Looks like I came along at a pretty good time, don’t it? This son of a bitch was fixin’ to shoot you.” He shook his head as if trying to make sense of it. “Why was he fixin’ to shoot you, anyway?”

“Yeah,” Cade answered, grimacing with pain as he tried to shift his body to a better position to try to get up. “How the hell did you happen to come up here?” Then before Red could answer, another thought occurred to him. “What did you mean back there when you said Elizabeth would kill you?”

“Well, see, that’s just it,” Red replied as he dropped the reins and prepared to help Cade up. “Elizabeth came down to the corral lookin’ for me. She said she’d heard about you takin’ that jasper you shot back to John Slater’s ranch. For a while there, she went on about how bad you was probably feelin’ about killin’ a man, even if it was self-defense. She lit into me like it was my fault for lettin’ you go over there by yourself. She said if all Slater’s men were like the one you shot, she was afraid you’d get in more trouble.” He looked at Cade with an apologetic expression. “I told her I offered to go with you, but you said no. That didn’t really satisfy her none. She told me to climb on my horse and not to come back without you.” He cocked up one side of his mouth in a little half smile. “I was damn near too late, wasn’t I?”

It was a painful task, but they managed to get Cade in the saddle, although not without starting the bleeding again. It was all he could do to remain upright, and before they had descended halfway down the mountain, he had to fall over on the horse’s neck. Trying to pick the easiest way down the slope, Red led the horse across and back to avoid the steeper parts. At the top of the ravine in which Cade had first taken refuge, they found Snider’s horse standing waiting. Red took the reins and led both horses down into the ravine. Looking back at his obviously suffering friend, he said, “Maybe I can make one of them things the Injuns use to tote things when we get down to level ground. Might make it easier to haul you to the doctor.”

Cade didn’t answer. He was concentrating on trying to hang on to the horse. He knew his friend pretty well, and he figured Red didn’t have an ax to cut poles, or enough rope to fashion a travois. He also knew he wasn’t going to be able to stay on that horse all the way back to Deer Lodge. He was already feeling light in his head and weaker by the moment. In an attempt to get his mind off the pain in his side, he tried to think about what Red had told him about Elizabeth. Why, he wondered, had she sought out Red to come after him? Was she really that worried about him? He tried to imagine her youthful, smiling face when she teased him. And he felt a warm tingle on his cheek where she had lightly kissed him on the first day they rode to her “secret place.” These were the thoughts that were drifting through his mind when they reached the bottom of the slope, where Red caught him just as he was about to slide to the ground unconscious.

“This ain’t gonna work,” Red said. “It’s too far back to Deer Lodge. You’re gonna bleed to death bouncing around on that horse. I’m gonna have to go get the doctor and bring him to you.” It was a painful truth, and the evidence was written on Red’s face. He didn’t want to leave Cade while he made the ride all the way back to town, but he was afraid the ride might be enough to finish him. “Tell me what to do, Cade,” he pleaded softly.

Recovering his senses somewhat after his near fall from the horse, Cade told Red to leave him there in the ravine, but Red protested that there was no shelter there from the cold night. Then Cade thought about Snider’s ranch. There was no one there now. All of his men were gone. “His ranch is only about a mile or so back that way,” he said. “You can leave me there. I’ll be all right. You can build up the fire, and I’ll be warm and dry while you go get the doctor.”

“He didn’t have but four left,” Cade explained. “You’ll find one of ’em dead between here and the ranch, one of ’em dead at the ranch—you saw one of ’em back up the hill. The other one’s shot and he took off. There ain’t nobody left.”

After a ride that seemed a lot longer than the actual distance, Red slow-walked the horses into the tiny cluster of shacks that had served as John Slater’s ranch. While Cade waited, slumped over in the saddle, Red took a quick check of the buildings and decided right away that the cabin Snider had used for his ranch house was the better of the two dwellings. With Red’s support, Cade was painfully helped into the cabin.

With no other options, Cade was reluctantly settled on a homemade bedstead that, unbeknownst to him, had been used by Snider. Too weak and sick to protest, Cade lay exhausted while Red built a fire in the fireplace. Once there was a healthy flame going, he took a look at Cade’s wound to see if he could do anything to help, and decided he could not. “At least you ain’t bleedin’ no more,” he said. “You think you can hang on till I get to town and back with the doctor?”

Red took a look at the water bucket in the corner by the table, thought better of it, and fetched his canteen from his saddle. “Here, you better take this,” he said, placing the pistol he had found on Plummer’s body next to the bed. Then he stood back and took a long look at his friend. “Don’t shoot yourself with it,” he said as he turned to leave. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Cade nodded and tried to smile. Before the sound of Red’s horse’s hooves had faded away, Cade sank into a sound sleep—the last thought on his mind was that Luke could now rest in peace.