Chapter Fifteen

Brady didn’t hesitate.

“We’re going to dismount,” he said, swinging down from his horse.

Annie didn’t ask him why. She had learned by now that he always had a good reason for his requests, even if to her frustration he didn’t always explain them.

When she had also dismounted, he handed her the reins of his horse. “Wait here,” he instructed her. “I won’t be long.”

She watched him strike off along the right branch, his gaze on the floor of the trail. He disappeared around a bend, leaving her feeling very alone. And nervous.

She kept glancing over her shoulder while she stood there with the two horses, as if fearing the sheriff and his deputy would ride into sight at any second. Not that this could possibly happen when she knew that climb from the valley was a long, slow one. Still...

Brady returned a few minutes later, reporting, “There was no sign of our man going that way.”

She expected him to tell her to mount up again, that they would ride off on the left branch. He didn’t.

“I’m going to check this other path. Just to be certain.”

He went off again on foot, leaving her alone with the horses once more to worry in his absence. Brady was a good tracker, but what if he’d missed something on the right branch? What if they ended up on the wrong trail?

The horses were growing as restless as Annie before Brady reappeared. To her amazement, he carried a deposit of horse apples scooped up on a wide hunk of dead bark.

“No question of it. He took the left branch.”

“So I see. But was it necessary for you to bring me the evidence of that?”

“This isn’t for you, Annie. It’s for the sheriff. When he and his deputy get here, they’re going to face the same indecision we faced. They’ll check both branches for signs like I checked them. I’m going to plant these horse apples on the right branch.”

She understood his clever strategy and admired him for it. With any luck, the sheriff and his deputy would follow the wrong route far enough to gain Brady and Annie a precious quantity of time before they realized their mistake and turned back.

She was relieved when Brady arrived back at the fork minus the horse apples. “Snapped off a bough for extra measure,” he said, remounting his horse. “Let’s head out.”

She climbed into her own saddle and followed him along the left trail. He set the pace for them, riding hard. There was a good explanation for that, she figured. With no reason to believe he was being pursued, Andersen was more than likely traveling at an easy gait. He must have also spent the night at the side of the trail, so she and Brady had that in their favor, too. They had a decent chance of catching him before the sheriff caught them. She hoped.

****

Annie found herself questioning that hope an hour later. There had been no sign of the man they knew only as Andersen. And since the horses hadn’t been able to sustain their initial speed for more than a mile or so, they’d been forced to slow them to a comfortable walk, making her wonder if they would ever overtake their quarry.

The long slope they were currently descending to another valley was so stony and uneven it demanded she and Brady pick their way with care or risk one of the horses breaking a leg. It was a necessity that meant another delay.

It was after they rounded a sharp turn in the trail that Annie glimpsed through the trees the gleam of water in the narrow valley below them. Brady had sighted it, too.

“Must be a stream down there,” he said. “Let’s hope it’s shallow enough to cross.”

The trail had narrowed on its steepest portion, requiring that they ride single file with Brady in the lead. At the bottom of the valley, however, where it leveled out, the track widened again, allowing her to move up beside him. She could hear the sound of water now burbling over rocks. The stream must be just ahead of them, although the forest still masked it.

She was about to comment on that when out of nowhere a bullet sang past their heads, burying itself in the trunk of a spruce just behind them. Annie’s gasp of shock was followed by a loud, rough-voiced command from the direction of the stream.

“Whoever y’are, unless you want another taste of this six-shooter, you’d better turn back the way y’come!”

The harsh, surly voice was just familiar enough to make Annie realize it had to Andersen. She wondered how she could have ever supposed all they had to do was catch up to him and take him by surprise. She realized now it wasn't going to be that simple, because at some point, he must have sensed with the instinct of a hunted animal he was being followed. An animal who was ready for them with an ambush of his own.

“Easy, mister,” Brady shouted back. “We don’t want any trouble. We’re going.” To Annie, he whispered a fast, “Turn your horse and head back. And keep your head down.”

She wasted no time in obeying him, urging her horse into a gallop. She could hear Brady directly behind her, thrashing through every branch that extended over the trail. He was presumably making enough noise to convince their man they were in retreat and meant to remain in retreat.

Not until they reached the safe cover of a dense grove of evergreens did Brady signal a halt, motioning her to get down from her horse. He joined her on the ground to speak to her, keeping his voice low.

“Annie, I want you to stay here with the horses.”

“While you do what?”

“I’m going to sneak up on him on foot.”

“That’s too dangerous.”

“I’m not going to go in there with my Colt blazing,” he assured her. “If I’m careful, and I mean to be, he need never know I’m there. I have to learn just what we’re up against here. Without that, we won’t be able to decide how we can take him alive.”

She nodded, knowing that if Andersen were dead, they stood no chance of proving she was blameless in Judd Halter’s murder.

“I won’t be long,” he said. Then he was gone, crouching low as he vanished into the underbrush off the side of the trail.

Annie remained watchful in his absence, gazing along the trail in the direction of the stream for any hint of activity. Although she strained her ears for any questionable sound, there was nothing but the stillness. Had Andersen moved on? What would they would do if they lost him again?

Brady suddenly reappeared as silently as he’d disappeared.

“Is he still there?” she asked him.

“He’s there, probably waiting to make sure we’re out of the area. He’s barricaded himself behind some boulders with the stream directly at his back, which is going to make it tough for us to get at him.”

“Then how do we—?”

“This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to separate. You’re going to keep him busy on one side while I circle around to his other side, ready to rush him while he’s concentrating on you.”

“And how do I keep him busy?”

“With this.” He withdrew the loaded Colt from his holster and handed it to her along with extra ammunition. “Now listen to me, Annie. I don’t want you putting yourself in his line of fire. You move off through the woods a safe distance back and find some barrier of your own to hide behind. You don’t have to see him. All you have to do is draw his attention from your direction.”

“Understood,” she said, hefting the revolver to familiarize herself with it.

Brady eyed her action dubiously. “Damn it, Annie, I know you’re an expert shot, and if you had the opening you could drop him without killing him. But that’s too risky. You let me handle him.”

Yes, she thought grimly, as if he wouldn’t be risking himself. But she agreed to his plan.

Tethering their horses to a pair of saplings, they parted. The Colt firmly in her grip, Annie worked her way quietly through the growth off the right side of the trail. When she had crept deep enough into the woods to judge she was in the position Brady wanted, she searched for her barrier. She found it in the form of a fallen tree lying below her in the direction of the stream. Its trunk was easily wide enough to conceal her.

Dropping flat on the ground, she crawled forward until she reached the mossy log. She listened carefully, but all she could hear was the sound of the water, telling her the stream was not far away. With care, she lifted her head to peer over the top of the log.

Perfect. She could not only see the stream through a gap in the undergrowth, she could see the boulders behind which Andersen was shielded. Even better, the undergrowth between them was too heavy for him to be certain of just where she was hidden.

Waiting for a few minutes to make sure Brady himself was in place, she raised the Colt over the log and fired off three shots in rapid succession. An action that, as intended, drew Andersen’s fire but not before she ducked down, closely hugging the protection of the log.

His shots were wild ones. How could they be anything else when he had no visible target? In addition, he’d been careless, wasting his bullets. She’d counted five shots. Those, together with his earlier warning shot, made six. His gun was empty.

Annie was too occupied to wonder about Brady. She knew he was busy himself on the other side attending to his own half of the plan. While Andersen reloaded his six-shooter, which she realized from the silence in that direction he must be doing, she permitted herself to consider a possibility beyond just keeping him pinned down.

She’d promised Brady not to try to drop Andersen. She hadn’t promised not to disarm him, if the opportunity presented itself. Did it?

Lifting her head with caution no further than what was necessary for her to see the boulders, the revolver steady in her hand, she waited. Seconds later, the barrel of the six-shooter rose slowly over the top of the largest boulder. It was followed by a hand clutching the grip.

Now.

Annie squeezed the trigger of the Colt, earning for herself a yelp of pain from behind the boulder. To her added satisfaction, the six-shooter jumped out of Andersen’s wounded hand, spinning off into a clump of weeds.

Whatever Brady’s reaction was to what he must consider her act of disobedience, he didn’t waste any time on it. He might even be silently thanking her for it as his tall figure charged out of the underbrush and leaped over the boulders before Andersen could make any effort to recover his gun.

She could hear curses and the sound of a fierce struggle from behind the rocks. Deciding it was safe for her to come out of hiding, Annie scrambled over the trunk of the tree and raced down to the stream. She had the revolver clutched in her hand, ready to use it again if necessary. It wasn’t.

By the time she arrived on the bank of the stream, the two men were out in the water. Not just out but under. Or Anderson’s head was, anyway. Having overpowered his opponent, Brady was repeatedly dunking him.

“Had enough, or shall I go on baptizing you?” Brady asked as Andersen came up one final time, spitting out the water he’d been choking on.

Andersen weakly shook his head as he continued to cough out water. Annie could see that the fight had gone out of him. A loud challenge came from behind them while Brady hauled out his now helpless opponent.

“What in hell is going on here?”

Annie wheeled around to discover two riders emerging from the woods. The badges on their vests told her who they were. The sheriff and his deputy had arrived.