Most of life, it seems, consists of periods of routine, even boredom, punctuated occasionally by sudden, brief moments of joy and pleasure, or sadness and heartache, or abrupt and grave danger.
Dwight and Belinda, together with Frank Singler, were fulfilling their shift at the lookout spot Val had established. It was a cluster of boulders at the base of a long hogback that ranged downward from a tall butte. A quarter of a mile away, clearly visible from where they watched, a shallow draw was sparsely populated with scrub cedar, a scraggly pine tree that grew crookedly from the side of the draw, and one large cottonwood tree. Small patches of varying kinds of brush sprouted up from the nearly grassless floor of the wide swale.
Along the far edge of the draw half a dozen patches of rock jutted above the surrounding brush, some with boulders nearly as large as the cluster at their lookout post.
The shifts seemed interminably long. Silence was essential, so they could not talk. They dared not even move more than necessary, lest they be spotted by some member of the gang coming out to check on the security of the location.
That had happened often enough to convince all of the posse that this was, in fact, where the gold was hidden. None of the gang had been foolish enough actually to check it, however. Every one who appeared had only studied the ground for evidence of anyone else disturbing the site, then had ridden away again.
This was the third time their particular trio had manned the lookout. Deer flies bedeviled them almost constantly. They buzzed around their faces, landed on any exposed skin, and bit if they were not shooed off instantly. They didn’t dare swat one, lest the inevitable noise sound a warning to someone approaching.
Their horses, hidden over a low ridge behind them, stamped and snorted from time to time, badgered by the same pestering insects.
At times a small swarm of gnats would target one or another of the trio. Swarming in front of that person’s face, they made remaining still and silent almost impossible. Thirst returned within minutes after every sip from the warm water of a canteen. Time dragged slowly by, inviting carelessness.
Nearly halfway through their shift Belinda’s head snapped up. ‘Someone’s coming,’ she breathed.
Dwight and Frank looked at each other, then at Belinda. Neither had heard anything. Belinda held up two fingers. ‘Two horses.’
Frowning, Dwight closed his eyes and lowered his head, listening intently. In seconds he heard a hoof click against a stone. The sound came from the direction of the mining camp.
About the same time Frank picked up a sound as well. They crouched down lower, making sure they were not visible to the approaching riders.
In minutes Walt Tighson and Jesse Wrigley rode into view. Obviously watching all around, they rode to the big cottonwood and dismounted. ‘Looks like we’re the first ones here,’ Walt observed.
Jesse fished a watch from his vest pocket, opened the cover, looked at it, snapped it shut and put it back in his vest pocket. ‘The rest’ll show up right shortly,’ he assured.
The trio in the boulders looked at each other with wide-eyed and growing excitement. Dwight silently mouthed to Belinda, ‘Go get the others. It’s time!’
Wordlessly she nodded. Remaining crouched low enough to be sure that she couldn’t be seen from the outlaws’ location, she crept around the end of the ridge behind which their horses were tethered. She untied her horse and led him, carefully avoiding any rocks that would make enough sound to betray her, until she was well away from the others. Then she stepped into the saddle and followed the path they had carefully selected for a fast ride to summon the rest of the posse.
She adjudged herself far enough to be out of sound’s range, and had started to kick her horse to a gallop when a rider appeared squarely in her path. A raspy voice stopped her cold.
‘Now would you look at who thinks she’s going to play Paul Revere!’
She gasped, jerking her horse to a stop. Jarvis McCrae sat his horse, blocking her path. He grinned wickedly at her. ‘We meet again,’ he gloated.
In spite of the grin, which she could only describe as ‘nasty’, he looked terrible. His sallow cheeks were sunken. His eyes were heavily shadowed, with dark bags beneath them. He had several days’ stubble. His hair, jutting from beneath his hat, was matted and tangled. His shirt hung on his shoulders as if it were two sizes too big for his frame.
Before Belinda could react he reached out and grasped the reins of her horse. Jerking them out of her hand, he swayed slightly in the saddle, then recovered his balance. ‘Thought you was bein’ real smart, didn’t you? I spotted you yesterday, so I’ve been watching to see what you and that no-good marshal sweetheart of yours were up to. Now let me guess. They’ve figured out that everybody’s on their way to meet out here, so your job is to hurry back and get whoever else is waiting, right?’
Her eyes, wide with fear, darted this way and that. When she failed to answer, he said, ‘I thought so. Well, sweetheart, I’ll tell you what Mac and Belinda are going to do. We’re going to go to a spot I’ve got all figured out, where we can watch that marshal of yours get himself killed thinking he has help coming that won’t show up, then you and me are going to take my share of that money and ride off into the sunset together. Unless, of course, you try to do something stupid like running or yelling or something. Then you’re going to die real sudden, and I’ll have to ride off into the sunset all by myself.’
She knew with terrifying certainty that he was being totally honest. He had the reins of her horse. She could bail out of the saddle and run for it, but he would shoot her in the back without a second thought. If she let him lead her to the vantage point he obviously had already selected, she would be forced to watch the man she loved fail, because of her. He and Frank would wait as long as they could, then they would confront the gang, certain that she was bringing help. When that help didn’t come, desperately outnumbered they would certainly be killed.
Despair washed over her. This time not even Dwight would be riding to her rescue. He would die with the rest. She was all alone. There was no way out.