Red Tyler sat his mount in the ring of rocks and angrily stared around him.
Wyatt rode out of some brush, slapping irritably at mosquitoes and flies that swarmed around his face. He looked surprised to see Tyler.
“Hell, Red, I figured you were still down the other end of the draw.”
“Was. This is where the goddamn trail brought me out—where we started from an hour ago. Hell, Trace, we ain’t gonna find that lousy hole-in-the-wall. Jarvess hid it too damn well. Stands to reason. Lawmen, bounty hunters, an’ every other hombre that ever wore a gun’s been searchin’ for that damn place for years—an’ not one’s come anywheres close to sniffin’ it out. If anyone did happen to get within a frog’s leap, you can bet Old Man Jarvess an’ his boys fixed their wagon for ’em. Ol’ bastard. He never trusted no one. I sure as hell wish McGovern could talk.”
Wyatt shook his head dolefully. “Well, that ain’t likely to happen, so what d’we do, Red? I mean, we risked our necks on that train hold-up same as the Jarvess bunch, an’ we’re the only ones still walkin’ around, but we ain’t even gonna get a silver dollar outta the deal. Worst deal we’ve ever been mixed up in, you ask me.”
“I gotta go along with you there, Trace,” Tyler said as he slammed a fist onto his saddlehorn. “There was no damn reason for Bonney and Mann to hide the Old Man’s body under that bank unless he’d told ’em something. Hell, you could see he hadn’t been cold all that long. He must’ve been alive when he rode into their camp. Otherwise, if they’d just figured to bury him, why did they lie to us at all? Nope, the answer lies with Bonney—an’ Cody Mann.”
Wyatt absorbed the reasoning slowly, then frowned. “Well—why’d they head out of the spread and into town instead of goin’ to collect the loot if the old man had told ’em somethin’?”
“I don’t know,” Tyler snapped in frustrated anger. “Bonney was hit. Bad. So they had to get him into a sawbones. But they didn’t all need to go. Leastways, I don’t think so. But come to think of it, Nash had Cody manacled. Maybe he was gonna turn him over to the local law an’ then come back.” Tyler snapped his fingers, liking his theory better as he expanded it. “Yeah. Could be. Cody’s tangled with Wells Fargo before. Nash is one tough hombre. He’d get Cody stashed away safely before comin’ after the loot. An’ you can bet anythin’ Jarvess told Bonney would’ve been passed along to him. So he’ll be back.”
“And we lay for him?”
“Yeah. An’ follow.”
Wyatt looked dubious. “This Nash. He’s a mighty tough hombre, like you said. An’ there’s only two of us. You reckon we can handle him?”
Tyler snapped his head up with a frown, then pursed his lips. “Hmmmm ... could be you got a point there, Trace.”
“Well, what you reckon we should do?”
“I reckon we should go get ourselves some reinforcements.”
Wyatt blinked.
“Billy Brewer and Harley Pepper down on Faro Creek ain’t got no love for Nash. He put ’em both away for a spell on the rock pile an’ killed Billy’s old man. They got a sod hut down there an’ I figure they’d come lend a hand for a chance at a share in the Jarvess loot.”
Trace Wyatt thought about it. “Take a day to get down there an’ back.”
“So? You see Nash anyplace right now? You head on down, Trace. I’ll stick around and watch for Nash. We’ll meet here sundown tomorrow. That okay with you?”
Wyatt wasn’t too happy with the arrangements but as he couldn’t see that they had much choice, he agreed.
“Okay, get movin’,” Tyler told him. “With some luck we’ll be countin’ that old owlhoot’s loot in less than a week.”
He grinned for the first time in days.
Nash and Mann spent the night in town before heading out at first light of the following morning. There had been supplies to arrange, packhorses to hire and other preparations to make for a prolonged stay and search in the hills.
Nash had manacled Cody’s legs to the brass bed-end in the hotel room, then gone to the Infirmary to learn that Cress Bonney had still not recovered consciousness after his operation to remove the bullet from him.
“I’d say the operation was successful,” Doctor Tibbs told Nash, “but that’s not to say he’s going to recover.” Tibbs, the more pessimistic of the medical team, glanced down the gloomy room to the end of the line of beds where pale-faced Liz Bonney sat beside her husband. “Had to take part of a lung. Pretty crude sort of job. He lost three ribs in the process—had to make room to work, you see. He won’t be exactly a cripple if he recovers, but—well, there’ll be a lot of chores he’ll never be able to tackle.”
“That’s heartenin’ news for a bronc-buster to wake up to, Doc.”
Tibbs shrugged. “He’ll have his life. He’ll have to be grateful for that.”
Nash stared at the medico—then shrugged and left. There didn’t seem to be any point in seeing Liz. It was a hell of a thing, though, he thought, as he headed back to the hotel room. Alive, yet not alive. It was going to be mighty hard for Bonney—if he pulled through. And it was going to be hard on Liz, too. Obviously they had little money. The burden was going to fall on Liz. If Bonney couldn’t exert himself much, then she was going to have to be the breadwinner. That would mean town living for them both: she sure wouldn’t be able to run a horse ranch herself ...
The Wells Fargo man was grim-faced when he returned to the room and he didn’t even make any reply to Cody’s usual flippant greeting. After a time, Cody sensed that something was upsetting the big Wells Fargo agent.
“Cress gonna pull through?” he asked quietly.
“Mebbe. But he’s not gonna be much better than a cripple if he does.” Then his voice hardened. “You’d better not be lyin’ to me, Cody. I want to locate that hideout now and recover the loot. More than ever. That young gal could sure as hell use the reward money.”
“I ain’t lyin’,” Cody said softly, then lapsed into silence ...
They pulled out at first light, and it was raining. A chill, slanting drizzle had painted the day in miserable gray and had already turned the trail to mud.
It slowed their progress into the hills and they ate lunch in the saddle. Nash still hadn’t allowed Cody any firearms.
“Which way?” Nash asked the outlaw when they reached a fork in the trail about mid-afternoon.
Cody studied the way ahead, then looked around at the hills. “Need to get onto some high land so’s I can get my bearings. But I can’t see far with this goddamn rain.”
Nash pointed. “Yonder rise. You can stand on the saddle an’ clamber up atop that big rock.”
“Ought to do,” allowed Cody and eased his mount in that direction. He clambered onto his saddle, then leapt up to the huge boulder. He stood looking around at the misted countryside, making out only the vague outline of the hills.
He frowned and pursed his lips.
“Come on,” Nash barked impatiently.
Cody pointed. “There. I figure that’s the hill we gotta make for. Rain’s hidden the outlines but that sure looks like the right one.”
“You better hope it is,” Nash said grimly. “I’m in no mood for your kinda jokes, Cody.”
“That’s the one,” Cody repeated firmly. “I feel just as bad about Cress as you do, Nash. I ain’t pullin’ a smart one and ... Hell! Someone’s comin’ …”
Suddenly he crouched then pointed along the trail they had travelled. Nash already had his rifle out and was levering in a shell.
“How many?” he called quietly.
“Lone rider,” Cody hissed. “Hell, if I had a rifle I could pick him off.”
“Climb on down an’ we’ll give him a reception. He’ll have to come by this way.”
Cody sighed and slithered over the wet rock, feet scrabbling as they tried to find his saddle. Nash leaned across and guided his boots onto the leather and Cody dropped onto his mount.
At a signal from Nash, he put his mount slowly forward and eased it around behind the big rock. Nash kept the rifle ready and strained to listen. Then he caught the faint sound of the approaching rider.
The newcomer seemed to be moving slowly, as if he were trailing someone.
Nash heard the rider pause on the other side of the rock, at the trail fork, trying to decide which way his quarry had gone. The Wells Fargo man heeled his mount into the open and brought up the rifle.
“Lift ’em, mister,” he snapped.
The rider stiffened then said, “Is that you, Mr. Nash?”
Nash was jolted as he recognized Liz Bonney’s voice.
“What the hell ...?”
Liz turned her mount and rode forward as Cody came from behind the boulder. She adjusted her slicker collar and nodded at the two men.
“I’m glad I caught up with you.”
“Why?” Nash barked. “This is no place for you.”
“Cress regained consciousness. He’s going to be all right.”
“I know, I checked with Tibbs before I pulled out this mornin’. They told me—he’ll have to—take things easy from now on.”
The girl’s wet, pinched face hardened. “Yes. So it’s more important than ever that we locate Jarvess hideout and get that reward money, Mr. Nash. I came along to do what I can to help. I—er—decided it would be better than merely waiting around the town for Cress to. improve. He’s strong. The worst is over now. I feel I want to help in some—practical way.”
Nash sighed. “Ma’am, it’s too dangerous for you out here. Tyler and Wyatt could be still around.” He jerked the rifle barrel towards Cody Mann. “And I’m not sure I trust this hombre, either.”
Cody looked offended as he turned to face the girl. “I’m doin’ this for you an’ Cress, Liz. I think I know what Old Man Jarvess meant by his directions. It’s my only ace-in-the-hole. I gotta keep it to myself for now.”
“I understand, Cody,” Liz said. She looked at Nash. “Cress said he remembered something else, Mr. Nash. Jarvess spoke of the ‘altar’. Cress recalled that there’s a flat-top mountain back in the breaks that had a balancing rock on top of it that, from a distance, looks like a foreshortened cross. He said Mexican shepherds used to call it Altar Rock. He thinks maybe the ‘cathedral’s another rock or mountain and has nothing to do with the old Spanish mission as we thought. If they’re lined-up ...”
“It shows the way to the Jarvess hideout,” Nash finished and turned to Cody. “Now let’s see. You told me the ‘cathedral’ has nothing to do with the mission. D’you know where there’s a rock called Cathedral mountain or somethin’?”
“Well, there’s a peak, way back in the breaks, that’s kind of steepled. And ’round about sundown, with the shadows just right, it does look like a church. I seen it twice. Long time ago. Feller I was hidin’-out with at the time said it was called Cathedral Mountain but that you’d never find it marked as such on any maps. I recollect where it is.”
Nash looked from one to the other. “Seems between us, we ought to be able to locate this here hideout, then. Rather you didn’t accompany us, Mrs. Bonney. If you’ll tell us where to look for this Altar Rock ...”
“I’ll show you. That’ll be my contribution,” she told him.
Nash sighed. He could see he was dealing with a determined female.
“We’re wastin’ time,” he said curtly, putting away his rifle. “We can still cover a few miles before dark.”
He nodded for Cody to lead the way and for the girl to fall in behind the outlaw. Then he walked his mount forward as they started along the soggy trail into the hills ...
Darkness came early because of the rain and the cloud-cover, so they decided to camp by a swollen stream that Cody said was called Faro Creek.
About half an hour later, Liz was preparing a meal and Nash was filling the coffee pot at the creek.
Cody saw his opportunity, and turned to Liz.
“I’ll unsaddle your bronc for you,” he said casually.
“Thanks, Cody.”
A sixth sense suddenly told Nash something was wrong. He instantly dropped the coffee pot and whirled, lunging to his feet. But the ground was soft and he stumbled and so fumbled his draw ...
By the time he straightened, he was looking down the barrel of the Winchester held in Cody’s hands.
The man had seen it earlier beneath the slicker Liz had draped over her saddle. She stared in disbelief. Nash froze—his hand gripping the half-drawn Colt.
Cody grinned. “Uh-uh.”
Clay Nash slowly released his hold on the six-gun and let it drop back into leather. Then he stood slowly and lifted his hands to shoulder level.
“Knew I shouldn’t’ve trusted you, Cody.”
The big outlaw shrugged and winked at the girl.
“Cody. Don’t do this,” she said, still kneeling by the fire.
“Can’t help it, Liz. I’m an opportunist. Noticed you was packin’ a rifle on your saddle soon as you showed up. I just bided my time. Can’t stick around when there’s so much dinero just waitin’ for someone to get their hands on it. Aw, don’t worry none. I’ll leave plenty for you an’ Cress. But I figure what I find’ll be a whole damn lot better than fifty-percent of any reward that’s goin’.”
“The reward—and mebbe your freedom, too,” Nash gritted.
“That’s a big ‘mebbe’, Nash. I’d go along with your word, but you can only do so much. If Wells Fargo want to press charges, there ain’t nothin’ you can do about it. I don’t aim to take that chance. I can find the Jarvess hideout now. I aim to. I’ll take your guns, Nash, and leave you an’ Liz tied up. By the time you work free, I’ll likely be up there, stuffin’ my saddlebags with gold. Fact, I’ll take one of the packhosses so’s I’ll be sure to have somethin’ to carry it away with.”
“You’ll never get away with it, Cody,” Nash snapped.
“Watch me,” the big outlaw said, grinning widely. He was a mighty happy man.
He was still grinning a half hour later when he rode out of the camp, leading one of the packhorses. The Wells Fargo man and Liz were roped to a tree—but there was just enough slack so they could begin to move their hands. In time, and at the cost of some raw flesh, they would likely be able to pull free ...
“Real sorry about this, Liz,” Cody had told the girl and he had sounded genuine. “But, like I said, I’ll leave a share for you an’ Cress. I just need the time to get myself a stake and make a getaway.”
“I understand, Cody,” the girl said, “but I really think you should trust Mr. Nash. He’d do whatever he could for you if he gave you his word on it.”
Cody had looked at Nash in the dim light and had smiled crookedly. “He ain’t a bad sort of hombre. But I only trust my neck to myself. Adios. I don’t figure we’ll meet again.”
“We will,” Nash said quietly, “we will.”
Cody Mann had only laughed.
Before he had cleared the camp area, Nash had begun working at his bonds, twisting and straining and tugging, trying to get as much slack in the rope before the rain made it pull tighter ...
It was daylight before he had enough slack to work his left hand free and he’d scraped off a lot of skin in the process. But once it was free and he got some feeling back in his blue fingers, he went to work on the knots—and an hour later he and the girl stood free.
“Now all we have to do is find where he hid our mounts—and the saddle gear,” Nash said bitterly.
“He could’ve killed you, Mr. Nash,” the girl pointed out.
“Maybe he should’ve,” Nash replied grimly and set off to look for the mounts ...
He found his horse in a draw and the girl’s mount in a distant clump of bushes. He was surprised to find both saddle rigs had been tossed carelessly behind a rock nearby.
The rain had stopped but it had continued long enough during the night to have wiped out Cody’s tracks. Nash knew they were going to lose time having to search for the route Cody had taken, and said as much to Liz, then added:
“Can you take me to Altar Rock?”
Liz frowned. “I have only vague directions. Cress said it was ‘beyond the canyon’ where he and Cody trapped the mustangs. North-west—but he didn’t say how far.”
“Right,” Nash said crisply. “I know where that canyon is. I got that much out of Cody in ordinary conversation. Let’s go.”
In minutes, they were making their way through the hills towards the canyon.
But they didn’t complete their journey. Leastways, they didn’t get to the canyon at that time.
For, as they made their way through a waterlogged draw, picking a trail carefully through the slippery mud, riders appeared on the rim ahead. And when Nash spun in the saddle, he saw two more behind.
They all had rifles. And Nash needed only a glimpse to recognize Tyler and Wyatt. It wasn’t until they were closer that he also recognized the extra two gunmen: Harley Pepper and Billy Brewer ...
“Come on up outta that draw, Nash,” Tyler invited. “You an’ the gal. Just keep your hands held high an’ use your knees on your broncs. Billy an’ Harley’ll see you through ...”
Red Tyler sounded happy as he ought to have been, Nash thought bitterly. He had them cold. And Nash didn’t even have a clasp-knife by way of a weapon. He glanced at Liz. She looked scared and pale.
“Just take it easy,” Nash said quietly.
Beyond the draw they were met by Wyatt and Tyler as Pepper and Brewer closed in from behind.
Pepper leered at Liz, running a tongue over his harelip and grinning lopsidedly. She shuddered.
Brewer was small and narrow shouldered—with an axe blade face that gave him a rat-like appearance. He nudged his mount forward and without a word swung his rifle barrel and smashed Nash across the head. The Wells Fargo man moaned as he was knocked out of the saddle. Liz gasped.
“Aw, don’t worry none, ma’am,” Red Tyler said grinning tightly. “He ain’t hurt much. Nowheres near as much as he’s gonna be. ’Course you can mebbe make things a mite easier for him by tellin’ us what we want to know …”
“Don’t,” Nash gasped, struggling to his knees, his senses reeling. “Tell him nothin’.”
Harley Pepper freed a boot from his stirrup and kicked Nash on the jaw, sending the Wells Fargo man sprawling. Then he rode his mount alongside the girl’s and leaned from the saddle, placing a hand on her thigh and drawing a quick gasp from her as his fingers sank into her flesh.
“Don’t you pay no attention to Nash, ma’am. He ain’t givin’ you very good advice. But, then again, it sorta depends on where you’re standin’. ’Cause if you don’t tell us what we want to know, mebbe I gets to try an’—persuade you. Savvy?”
His fingers dug in so deeply she cried out in pain. Then Pepper licked his harelip again and eased back in the saddle.
“I don’t know much,” Liz said nervously. “We were heading for the canyon where Cress worked the mustangs and we ... we were going to take bearings from there,” she said swiftly, as Billy Brewer made ready to hit Nash again with his rifle barrel.
Brewer looked disappointed at her words, and glanced at Tyler.
“That’ll do for a start,” the redhead decided. “Let’s get to the canyon. More room to work there, anyways.”
“How come Nash ain’t packin’ iron?” Trace Wyatt asked abruptly.
They all looked at the girl.
“Cody Mann ... jumped him and took his weapons,” she replied slowly.
Tyler laughed. “Well, that’s fine. It means Cody’s on the way to the hidey-hole. An’ if he knows how to get there, you an’ Nash do, too. Boys, I figure by sundown we’ll be countin’ that loot.”
But it didn’t quite turn out that way ...
By the time they had reached the canyon, there was more rain which blew up into a storm, with rolling, booming thunderheads and sheets of water pouring down in torrents that made them all seek shelter in overhangs.
Nash was tied up with his hands behind him and he bore the marks of several more blows that had been dealt him by Brewer and Pepper.
They had both served time on the rock pile because of Nash—and they weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to get some of their own back.
Liz had pleaded with them at one stage when they had both set about kicking and beating Nash after tying his hands and had blurted out that they were heading for Altar Rock, to the northwest.
About that time, the storm had broken in earnest and they had had to seek cover ...
Huddled together under a rain lashed overhang of rock, Tyler edged up closer to the girl. She cringed away.
“Relax,” Tyler told her. “I got no notions about you, not like Pepper there. But maybe I’ll turn him loose on you unless you tell me what I want to know ... Like how far’s this Altar Rock?”
“I don’t know,” the girl said shakily. “No, please. It’s true. Cress was only conscious for a few minutes. He told me the direction and what to look for but that was all.”
Tyler studied her closely, and his eyes narrowed.
“An’ the rest of it? Where d’you go from there to find the hole-in-the-wall?”
Liz glanced at Nash who said nothing, but his eyes told her she might as well tell them: he was worried that Tyler would turn Harley Pepper loose on the girl and Nash knew only too well the man’s reputation with women. Somehow, women were never the same after an encounter with Harley Pepper ...
“Er—it seems the Altar Rock has to be lined up with something called The Cathedral. Another peak, according to Cody Mann. But that’s all I know. Honestly.”
“We’ll see,” Tyler said after a slight pause. “Harley—we’ll find this Altar Rock come mornin’ an’ then maybe you’d better see if you can jog the gal’s memory about the other place, huh?”
“Suits me,” Pepper lisped—his hot eyes already undressing the terrified girl.
“She’s told you all that Jarvess told Bonney, Tyler,” Nash grated but then reeled as Pepper kicked him in the side.
Pepper then returned his gaze to Liz ...
The rain eased before midnight and they moved out of the cramped overhang and down onto the sandy canyon floor. The outlaws built a campfire and dried out around it, leaving the bound girl and Nash well beyond the reach of the warmth. They lay shivering in their sodden clothes with the wet ropes cutting into their flesh.
Pepper checked them—letting his hands linger on the girl’s body—before they turned in ...
Wyatt drew first guard duty but he huddled in a blanket by the dying fire, pressing close for warmth. Now that the storm had passed, stars began to prick the sky and a faint light spilled into the canyon.
A coyote howled distantly. Another answered closer by. A prowling mountain lion coughed deeply and night birds screeched in the timber up on the rim.
Nash struggled at his bonds but the rain had caused the ropes to shrink and he had no circulation in his hands. He heard the girl’s teeth chattering with cold.
“Move about as much as you can,” he whispered. “Draw your legs up and snap ’em down again. Keep the blood flowin’ an’ it won’t be so cold.”
She made some sort of reply but he couldn’t make out her words. Wyatt stirred and glanced sleepily towards them, then pulled his blanket tighter about his shoulders ...
Nash didn’t like their chances of surviving the next day. He would be tortured but he was prepared for that whatever happened. He knew Brewer and Pepper wouldn’t give him any kind of a quick death, not with what they owed him—or figured they did.
But he was worried about the girl in Pepper’s hands. If only he had something to trade with so she might at least have a chance of surviving with a whole skin ...
Suddenly, he stiffened as something cold and hard touched the inside of his burning wrists. He sucked in a sharp breath as a knife blade began to saw back and forth ...
He said nothing, feeling the strands of the iron hard rope parting one by one. Then suddenly the ropes fell free of his wrists. Very slowly and carefully, he began to massage his hands and fingers, trying desperately to increase the blood circulation.
There was a faint movement behind him in the dark but he didn’t turn around. He swiveled his eyes past the dozing Wyatt to where the girl lay. He heard a muffled sort of gasp from her as if a hand had clamped across her mouth. Then he saw the big shape crouched behind her—and heard the slight sounds of the knife sawing through the ropes.
Then the hulking shape came towards him again and something heavy and limp was placed in his lap. His gun rig. He turned his head.
“You must be gettin’ soft, Cody,” he whispered.
“Nope. Can’t open the combination lock on the strongbox,” Cody Mann whispered back. “Figured you might know it.”
Nash grinned. Cody wasn’t fooling him. The man had come to repay his debt ...
Some feeling had returned to his hands and wrists and he got slowly to his knees and buckled on his gun rig, tying down the base of the holster with its rawhide thong. The girl sat up slowly, looking apprehensively towards Wyatt who was still slumped by the fire.
Cody signaled to her to crawl backwards into the deeper shadows and she did so warily, her gaze going to the sleeping form of Harley Pepper. Even in the dim light Nash could see the naked fear on her face. Nash began to work his way back, too, and Cody said very quietly:
“Best tell you: your Colt ain’t loaded. Figured I’d better test your mood first.”
Nash shook his head slowly: that damn Cody! He pulled out the Colt and began to thumb cartridges from his belt.
As he did so, Liz stumbled and fell and cried out involuntarily.
Wyatt was instantly awake. He reared up, throwing his blanket aside and whirling towards the prisoners. His rifle came round as he shouted a warning. The other three outlaws rolled out of their blankets—and Nash cursed. He had only two cartridges in his Colt.
Wyatt’s rifle boomed and Liz screamed as the lead jerked her hat from her head. Pepper rolled to one knee, fanning his six-gun, and Nash dropped flat, dragging the shaking girl with him. Tyler and Brewer were running forward with guns blazing.
Then big Cody Mann reared up with the butt of Nash’s heavy caliber .44/.40 rifle braced into his hip, levering and triggering as he ran forward.
Red Tyler spun away, clawing at his shoulder. Trace Wyatt lifted clear off the ground and spread-eagled on the sand—one leg in the campfire. But he was already dead.
Cody spun and fired at Pepper who dropped, spun over and brought up his second six-gun, triggering. Cody staggered and one leg folded under him but he kept on firing with the big rifle. Then Billy Brewer launched himself in a headlong dive, his Colt thrust ahead of him, the muzzle blazing.
Cody staggered and at the same time the rifle hammer clicked on an empty chamber ...
With a mighty roar, he lunged to his feet and, dragging his left leg, charged forward, swinging the big rifle by the barrel. The brassbound butt glittered in a brief arc and smashed into the middle of Billy Brewer’s face, almost tearing the man’s head from his shoulders.
There was little doubt he was dead before his twitching body hit the ground ...
Harley Pepper leapt up and dived to one side, putting another bullet into Cody—and the big man sagged to his knees.
Then, at last, Nash had his Colt loaded.
“Watch it,” yelled the wounded Tyler, bringing up his gun.
Nash whirled and triggered twice, both bullets catching the redhead in the heart and slamming him backwards.
Lead burned across Nash’s left forearm and he staggered, dropped to one knee and began to chop at the gun hammer. He knew fanning the weapon close range would be mighty effective.
Shot after shot hammered out and Harley Pepper staggered and jerked, blood gushing out of his mouth as the last shot took him in the neck. Liz covered her face with her hands at the gruesome sight as Pepper collapsed with a choking scream.
Nash stood up, his ears ringing from the thunder of the gunfight and helped the shaking girl to her feet. Together they went to Cody Mann and knelt beside him.
The big man was barely alive as his eyes went to the girl’s pale face.
“I ... I found it, Liz. It ... it’s all there. Tons of loot. Y-you an’ Cress’ll get a—mighty big—reward ... Cathedral’s—’b-’bout ten miles due north ... Sun-up’s best time to see it ...” He flicked his rapidly glazing eyes to Nash, and even tried to grin, but he started to cough. “Y-you’re okay—N-Nash for a—a ...”
He slumped in death and Liz began to shake with sobs.
Nash slipped an arm about her shoulders as he helped her to her feet. The knee of his trousers was wet but as he looked down, he saw that it wasn’t mud as he had first thought.
It was Cody Mann’s blood.