CHAPTER 26
As Jensen went down under the vicious blow, the old man on the driver’s box yelled, “Hey! What in tarnation—”
Stevens dropped the reins and surged to his feet. He reached under his coat to claw at the old revolver he wore, but just as the weapon came free, Colbert lifted his gun and shot him. The blast slammed Stevens off the box and dropped him on the snowy ground on the other side of the coach.
Colbert didn’t know how badly he had wounded the man. He glanced at Jensen, saw that he appeared to be out cold, and then ran around the front of the team to check on the old-timer.
Stevens was sprawled on his back, still alive and trying to get up. Blood had left red splatters on the snow around him. The gun he had drawn a moment earlier lay about six feet away, where he had dropped it when he fell off the driver’s box.
Colbert stalked forward and swung his gun up, ready to finish off the old man. Jensen could handle the team. Stevens was just extra baggage.
Colbert wasn’t worried about any of the others in the coach. Jensen and Stevens were the only real threats. He could keep an eye on one of them if the other was dead. His finger tightened on the trigger.
The coach door flew open and slammed against his hand as he fired, causing the bullet to fly off harmlessly into the woods beside the trail.
The next instant, a wildcat landed on Frank Colbert.
* * *
For a second, Denny couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw the big, ugly man named Colbert clout her father with a gun.
But then he tilted the revolver up and fired, and the blast jolted Denny out of her shocked state. She knew the shot had to be directed at Salty, and when she heard a thump from the other side of the coach, she jerked her head around and saw the feisty old jehu lying on the ground where he had fallen.
Denny’s first instinct was to go to Smoke and make sure he was all right, but Salty had been shot. She lunged across to the coach’s other door, past Melanie Buckner, who had started screaming in fear at the sound of the shot.
Louis cried, “Denny, wait!,” but any time trouble broke out, she wasn’t in the habit of sitting around and waiting for things to get worse.
The canvas covers over the windows had been raised while the coach was stopped. Through the window in front on the left, she caught sight of Frank Colbert as he rushed around to that side, still brandishing the pistol he had used to hit Smoke and shoot Salty.
Colbert tried to bring the gun to bear on the fallen old-timer, but Denny flung the door open and whacked his arm with it, sending the shot whining off into the trees.
Denny was right behind the door, leaping out of the coach and tackling the man.
The impact made Colbert stagger to the side. Denny tried to wrap her legs around his waist but couldn’t manage it because the skirt of her traveling outfit bound them too much. She got her arms around his neck and stuck a foot between his calves instead, tripping him. They both sprawled in the snow.
Denny landed on top. Colbert’s right arm was out to the side with the gun still clutched in that hand. Denny grabbed his wrist with one hand to pin it down and tried to pry the gun free with the other. Colbert seemed a little stunned by the ferocity of her attack, but she knew that wouldn’t last, so she didn’t have long.
Not long enough. Colbert snarled a curse and clubbed at her head with his other hand. Denny had to duck. His fist raked the hat from her head and caused her blond curls to spill around her shoulders. He heaved his body up and threw her to the side. He was too strong for her to stop him.
But as Denny rolled on the ground, she caught a glimpse of her brother aiming a kick at Colbert’s head. Louis was no fighter; even when they were kids, it had been her saving him from bullies instead of the other way around. But he didn’t lack for courage and was trying to come to Denny’s aid.
Colbert twisted and took the kick on his shoulder. As Denny came to a stop on her belly, she knew a second of terror because she thought Colbert would shoot Louis.
Instead, Colbert caught hold of Louis’s ankle and heaved, throwing the younger man over on his back. Louis hit hard and rolled onto his side, gasping for breath because the landing had knocked all the air out of his lungs.
Denny scrambled up, ready to go after Colbert again, gun or no gun.
She had no idea why he had attacked Smoke and shot Salty. From what she had overheard of the conversation going on outside, they had been arguing about whether the coach should take the McCulley Cutoff as planned or try to make it over the mountains on the old wagon road. That didn’t seem like anything to fight over.
Before Denny could do anything else, Melanie screamed, “Bradley, no!”
The boy leaped down from the coach and charged Colbert. “You leave Miss Denny alone!” he yelled.
Colbert backhanded him and knocked him flying, drawing more screams from Melanie. She dropped from the coach to the ground but didn’t go after Colbert. She hurried to Brad’s side instead. Denny couldn’t blame her for that.
Reaching down, Denny scooped a handful of snow from the ground and threw it in Colbert’s face as he turned back toward her. She knew it wasn’t going to hurt him, but it might blind him for a second. He was on his knees, so she lowered her shoulder and tackled him again.
The gun went off right beside her head, the report slamming into her ear like a giant fist. She couldn’t help crying out in shock and pain.
But Colbert went over backward, and as Denny landed on top of him again, she tried to dig a knee into his groin. A grunt exploded from him, so she hoped she had hit her target. She pulled herself up, laced her fingers together, and swung her clubbed fists at his jaw as hard as she could. The blow jerked his head to the side.
For a second, he was stunned, unable to fight back. Denny raised her arms, ready to hit him again and knock him out.
Before that blow could fall, another gun roared. Denny flinched involuntarily as she heard the slug whip through the air above her head.
“Stop it! Get away from him right now, or I’ll kill you!”
The shrill voice was panicky, almost hysterical, but Denny knew a hysterical person could pull a trigger and kill just as easily as one who was calm. She looked over her shoulder and saw Alma Lewiston standing a few yards away with a heavy old Colt clutched in both hands as she pointed it toward Denny.
That had to be Salty’s gun. Alma had gotten out of the coach, picked it up . . . and taken sides in this battle, whatever the hell it was about.
“Put that gun down, Mrs. Lewiston,” Denny said. “You’re going to hurt somebody.”
“Damn right I am—the bitch daughter of the man who made me a widow! Get away from him now or I’ll shoot, I swear it!”
Denny hesitated, and as she did, Colbert recovered enough to smash a fist against her jaw and knock her off of him. With her head spinning from the punch, she slid through the snow and came to a stop a few feet away.
Colbert clambered up, still holding the pistol, and told Alma, “Keep her covered.”
“Are you all right, Frank?” she asked.
“Just do what I told you!” he roared. He strode over to where Melanie had pulled a groggy Brad into her lap. She screamed again as he reached down with his free hand and grabbed the boy’s arm. He jerked Brad away from her.
Denny lifted her head, still seeing stars, but her vision was clear enough to see Smoke come around the back of the coach with the Colt Lightning in his hand. Colbert saw him, too, and wheeled around, putting Brad in front of him. He had his left arm around the boy’s neck and rammed the gun muzzle against Brad’s head.
“Not another step, Jensen, or this little bastard’s brains are gonna be splattered all over the snow!”
Smoke stopped in his tracks. Blood trickled down the side of his face from the cut on the side of his head he had suffered when Colbert hit him with the pistol.
“Take it easy, Colbert,” he said. “You don’t want to hurt that boy.”
“I don’t give a damn about this boy. But if you do, you’d better toss that gun away.”
Denny looked around. Melanie was still screaming as she huddled on her knees. Louis had recovered a little from getting the breath knocked out of him and had pushed himself up on one elbow, but he wasn’t in any position to do anything. Salty wasn’t moving anymore, but Denny couldn’t tell if he was dead or just had passed out from being shot.
Over at the coach, Peter Stansfield and Jerome Kellerman gaped from the windows, but neither of them appeared to be willing to take a hand.
That left Alma, her face pale but resolute as she pointed Salty’s gun at Denny.
Colbert rasped, “If Jensen doesn’t do what he’s told, shoot that bitch, Alma.”
Smoke said, “Mister, I’m gonna kill you.”
A harsh laugh came from Colbert. “You may be some fancy gunfighter, but my thumb’s the only thing holding back the hammer on this gun. You’re not fast enough to keep me from killing the boy. And while you’re shooting me, Alma will put a bullet in your daughter. What’s it gonna be . . . gunfighter?”
For a couple of seconds that seemed longer, Smoke didn’t respond. Then he lowered the gun in his hand and tossed it to the side.
“You’d better shoot me here and now, mister, because I’m telling you . . . you’re making a mistake leaving me alive.”
“For two bits, I’d do it,” Colbert said. “Lucky for you, there’s a lot more than two bits riding on me getting to Reno, and with that old bastard dead, I need somebody to drive the stagecoach.”
Denny saw Smoke’s eyes cut over to the fallen jehu. “Salty!” he exclaimed.
“I think he’s alive, Pa,” Denny said. “I think I saw him breathing.”
Smoke nodded toward Denny and said to Colbert, “Let her go and check.”
Colbert looked like he was going to refuse, but then he shrugged and said, “All right, go ahead. But if you see her about to try anything, blow a hole in her, Alma.”
“You could thank me for helping you, Frank,” Alma said tightly without taking her eyes—or the gun—away from Denny.
“Oh, I’m obliged to you,” he said. “I’ll show you how much by cutting you in on the loot when we get to Reno, how about that? You’ll have more money than you’ve ever seen before.”
Alma frowned, causing Denny to wonder if money was actually what the woman cared about. But Alma said, “Go ahead and see how bad he’s hurt,” so Denny didn’t waste any time crawling over to Salty on hands and knees.
She put a hand on his bloody chest. It rose and fell in a ragged rhythm. He was alive, all right, but she wasn’t sure how badly he was hurt.
She pulled aside the heavy coat and the buckskin jacket, saw the hole in the cowhide vest and the flannel shirt underneath it. The bullet had hit Salty high on the left side of his chest, missing the heart by a handful of inches.
Carefully, Denny took hold of his shoulder and raised him enough to see the exit wound on his back. The slug had gone clean through.
That was good. It meant the blood Salty had lost was the main danger, and probably the reason he had passed out. His shoulder might be broken, too; Denny couldn’t tell about that. But she thought that if the wounds were cleaned and bound up and the arm put in a sling, Salty stood a good chance of surviving Colbert’s savage attack.
She looked up at Smoke and said, “He’ll be okay, Pa.”
A cruel grin stretched across Colbert’s face as he continued to hang on to the squirming Brad. “Maybe I don’t need you after all, then, Jensen.”
“Wait!” Denny said. “Salty can’t handle the team, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not with a bullet through his shoulder, thanks to you.”
“He’s lucky. I was trying to kill him. How about you? You tomboy enough to drive a stagecoach?”
“Me?” Denny forced herself to say. She swallowed as she thought fast. “I . . . I’m just a girl.”
Those words tasted bitter in her mouth, but she said them anyway. Anything was worth it to keep both her father and Salty alive, not to mention Louis and everybody else.
“I guess it’s up to you, then, Jensen,” Colbert went on. “I’m sure none of these other tenderfeet could manage, especially in bad weather.”
Smoke said, “You mean you want me to drive the coach through the mountains, through Donner Pass, and on to Reno?”
“You do that, and all these others live,” Colbert said. “I give you my word on that.”
“I reckon we’re past me putting much stock in your word, mister,” Smoke said. “But you don’t give me much choice.”
“Damn right I don’t.”
“Whatever’s in Reno must be mighty important.”
“Never mind about that,” Colbert snapped. “We’ve got a deal?”
Smoke looked at Denny and Louis and grimaced. “We’ve got a deal. Now you can let that boy go back to his mother.”
Slowly, Colbert shook his head. “I don’t think so. The brat stays with me. My gun’s never going to be more than a few inches away from him. You’d better keep that in mind all the time, Jensen.”
Things seemed to be settled for the moment, although not at all satisfactorily. Denny said, “I need some help with Salty.”
Louis said, “Mrs. Buckner used to be a nurse.”
Melanie had stopped screaming when it became obvious Colbert wasn’t going to kill Brad right away, but she was still sobbing. Denny said sharply, to get through to her, “Mrs. Buckner! Melanie! I need some help here.”
Louis asked Colbert, “Can I get up?”
“Don’t try anything,” the man warned.
Louis got to his feet and held up his hands, palms out. “No tricks, I promise.” He went over to the crying woman and bent to put an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, Melanie,” he urged. “Let’s go give Denny a hand with poor Mr. Stevens.”
Melanie sniffled and wiped the back of a gloved hand across her nose. “All . . . all right,” she managed to say. She let Louis help her up. They walked slowly toward Denny and Salty.
Melanie’s face was bright red from both the crying and the cold. She looked like she might fall down if not for Louis’s support. She kept turning her head to look at Colbert and Brad.
Then Salty began to stir. He groaned and muttered, “Jehoshaphat! Wha . . . what in tarnation . . .”
Denny put a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “Just lie still, Mr. Stevens,” she told him. “You’ve been shot.”
“I . . . I remember! That no good skunk Colbert—”
“Shut him up and tend to him,” Colbert barked. He looked at Smoke. “Climb up there on the driver’s box. But don’t even think about driving away with the coach. That won’t stop me from killing this boy.”
“You’re the boss . . . for now,” Smoke said, his face and voice grim.
Salty’s obvious pain finally seemed to penetrate Melanie’s fear for her son. She swallowed hard and said, “We need to get him to sit up. Can you do that, Mr. Stevens?”
“I . . . reckon I can,” Salty said.
“I’ll give you a hand,” Louis offered.
They got Salty into a sitting position and pulled away his clothing enough to reveal both of the ugly wounds. He began shivering and his teeth chattered.
“M-mighty cold out here,” he said.
“It is,” Melanie agreed, “and the blood you lost makes it feel worse. But the cold helps keep the blood from flowing quite as freely, too, and that’s good. We need something to clean the wounds. Maybe some hot water?” She looked at Louis. “Can you build a fire?”
Colbert said, “We don’t have time for that, damn it. Get some handfuls of snow and use them, if you have to. Then bind up the wounds and let’s get out of here.”
“We’ll have to stop when it gets dark,” Louis said quietly. “I’ll build a fire and we’ll tend to Salty’s injuries better then.”
Melanie nodded. “If that’s all we can do.”
Smoke had climbed onto the driver’s box, as Colbert had ordered. He sat there looking like a leashed tiger that wanted to break free and go on a rampage at any moment. Denny thought about what her father had said about Colbert making a mistake by leaving him alive.
The same thing held true for her. Colbert didn’t have just one Jensen who wanted his hide.
Now there were two Jensens who had a score to settle.