CHAPTER 38

PAUL Kevington felt a grim sense of satisfaction. He had her now. He’d seen her clearly as she ran down the slope, and watched her disappear into the tangled wood and metal of the aging train wreckage.

She was trying to hide from him. What a fool she was! Did she think he would pursue her from one continent to another, and across a vast frontier, only to let her evade him in such a childish way? He could be patient. Let her hide … he’d take pleasure in finding her. He’d enjoy what followed that, the final victory, even more.

He’d loved her once, back when he thought she could be his. Now that he knew she never could be, he despised her.

He stood at the side of the tangled wreckage, looking it over with a smile on his face. His pistol had been lost sometime during the tumble out of the train, and in the darkness he hadn’t found it. He’d not been able to find Brady Kenton, either, but had decided not to worry about that for now. He’d deal with Rachel first, then find Kenton. Mostly likely the old word-scribbler had been killed in the fall from the train anyway, and he’d just not been able to find his body in the dark. He hoped Kenton had gone under the wheels.

“Rachel!” Kevington called. “Rachel, darling, why are you being so stubborn? Don’t you know by now you’ll never escape me? I’ll follow you right to the gates of hell, my dear, and push you in! Show yourself, sister.” He gave an ironic, harsh emphasis to that word. “Let’s get this done with quickly and mercifully. Let’s end this chase once and for all.”

He glanced down and grinned as he saw a piece of rusted metal, fragmented and sharp on one end. He picked it up. This would do the job nicely.

“Come out, sister! Come out and let’s you and I talk! Maybe we can find a better alternative than disposing of you! Maybe there’s some way we can reach terms … maybe you can live through this!”

He didn’t expect her to believe him. She knew he couldn’t afford to leave her alive. But the chatter would have the effect of making her more unsettled, he hoped. Maybe she would make a sound and betray herself.

He continued his search, shouting, taunting, shoving aside pieces of wreckage. He’d find her soon, and the piece of sharp metal in his hand would settle his account with Rachel Frye once and for all.

*   *   *

Almost an hour after he began his walk down the track, Brady Kenton stopped and listened to the wind.

He’d just heard a man’s shout.

Listening harder, he heard it again.

“Kevington!” he whispered sharply.

The shouting came from farther down the track. He set off in that direction on a run, as well as his sore muscles would let him.

It wasn’t a good time to realize that age was catching up to him. Not with Rachel still to be saved—if it wasn’t too late.

And maybe it wasn’t. Why else would Kevington be yelling, if not in some attempt to find her?

Kenton ran on, grateful he was traveling downhill rather than up.

He rounded a bend in the tracks and stopped. He saw Kevington below, clambering about on the wreckage of a train. Kenton remembered reading about this train crash a couple of years earlier, and how the railroad had chosen simply to leave the whole mess where it was.

Rachel had to be down there, hiding. Why else would Kevington be searching two-year-old train wreckage?

Kenton’s suspicions were confirmed a moment later by Kevington’s next words.

“Ah, Rachel! I do believe I see you! I knew I’d find you! Why not come on out, and let’s you and I talk!”

Kenton let out a yell. “Don’t do it, Rachel! Stay where you are!”

Kevington wheeled, stared up at Kenton. Kenton heard him curse.

“Thought you were through with me, Kevington? Did you think I was dead?” Kenton began walking down toward Kevington, looking meanwhile for something he could use as a weapon. That metal fragment looked fearsome. “It’ll take a lot more than a tumble from a train to do me in!”

Kevington seemed to have lost his banter. “Stay the hell away!” he shouted up at Kenton. “I’ll kill her!”

“You don’t even have her!”

Kevington responded to that with action. He clambered over a pile of twisted metal and reached what had been the cab of the locomotive. He vanished for a moment; Kenton heard Rachel’s scream, and stopped. He glanced down and noticed a fragment of metal, much like the one Kevington had, and picked it up. If Kevington had just killed Rachel, Kenton would drive this metal through the man’s heart, even if he had to die himself in the process.

Kevington rose with Rachel in his grip, the piece of metal at her throat.

“I’ll kill her if you come a step closer, Kenton! I swear I will!”

Kenton decided to call his bluff. “No you won’t. If you do you’ll have nothing left to use to hold me back, and you know it. You can’t afford to kill her!” He took a few steps forward, ready to stop if Kevington appeared to actually be about to harm Rachel.

“I’m warning you!” Kevington yelled. “I’ll kill her!”

“You won’t do it.”

Kevington sliced at her neck with the metal; Kenton saw blood flow out as Rachel screamed.

He stopped and lifted his hands, still holding the metal shard in his right one. “All right! All right! I’ve stopped! Don’t cut her more!” He felt furious at himself, realizing that his bluff-calling had actually gotten her hurt.

Kevington laughed, back in control now. “Very good, Kenton. Very good. Now you know where we stand. And don’t throw me any more of that nonsense—you know I will kill her. And even if you got to me and killed me in turn, what would it matter? She would still be dead! So you stay where you are, and do what I say!”

“I’m listening.”

Kevington chuckled. “Let’s see … what should I have you do? Oh, I’ve got an idea. Tell me, Kenton: what do you know of the land of Japan? Do you know that there are men there who, when dishonored, will actually disembowel themselves ritually? Have you heard of that?”

“I’ve heard.”

“Good, good. Then let’s see how honorable you are. If you want to save your daughter’s life, then take that piece of metal in your hand and thrust it through yourself.” Kevington laughed, but it was not the same laugh as before. This was a high, nervous giggle.

“I’ll do nothing like that,” Kenton said.

“Then I’ll kill her!” And he cut her again.

“No!” Kenton yelled. “No … leave her alone.”

“Do it!” Kevington screamed. “Show us that Brady Kenton courage! Are you man enough to save your own daughter? Are you?”

Kenton looked at the piece of metal in his hand. Dear God, could he actually …

He knew it would not save her. Kevington would kill her anyway.

But even so, he couldn’t simply stand by and watch him do it. Kevington had Kenton in an impossible spot … and the intolerable might be the only way out.

“Do it, Kenton! Now!”

Kenton closed his eyes, said a prayer. He opened them again, then raised the metal fragment, pressed it slowly against his middle …

“No!” Rachel screamed. “No!”

She moved, pulling away from Kevington. The move was so fast he was taken by surprise. She yanked free of his grasp, tried to run, but he went after her.

The crack of the pistol was unexpected by all. Kevington spasmed and yelled. Another shot and he jerked, suddenly, head pierced by a bullet.

He lay on the ground a few moments, moving and making noise, but then went silent and still.

Kenton dropped the metal fragment and sighed in relief. He turned and saw Alex Gunnison running down toward him. Behind Gunnison, Frank Turner was rising, smoking pistol in his hand. He’d fired from a kneeling position, and it was surely the best long shooting with a pistol that Kenton had ever witnessed.

Rachel ran to Kenton and threw her arms around him. He closed his eyes and embraced her, never wanting to let her go.