Surprisingly, Kennick didn’t feel tired after his long night of watchfulness. As daylight exposed the small, camp area, he stood and stretched his stiff body. It wouldn’t be like this every time. A man can go just so long without sleep. He would have to get some rest sometime.
He glanced across at Kicking Bear. The Comanche still slept. The Indian was conserving his energy, making the most of the chance to rest. Kennick cautioned himself to keep alert. No telling what the Indian might get up to.
He walked across to the horses and spent a few minutes giving them water and oats from the small supply. That was something else he would have to keep a close eye on.
Crossing to the overhang, Kennick got a fire going. Then he put the coffee on and a pan of beans. A few feet away, Jeannie stirred restlessly. She sat up suddenly, looking wildly about her. Then she saw Kennick and gave a relieved sigh.
‘I wondered where I was,’ she said sheepishly.
‘All right now?’
She nodded, smiling gratefully. ‘Am I being a bother?’
He shook his head, and she noticed how tired he looked. He needed clean clothes and rest and good food. And to be able to be free of all his worries for a while. She was sorry that she had added to them.
Kennick rubbed his jaw absently. He wished he had time for a shave. Maybe he’d grow him a beard. He chuckled inwardly at the idea.
‘Keep an eye on the grub,’ he told Jeannie. I’m just going to have a look around.’
Jeannie nodded and he moved away. He glanced back and saw that she had slipped the Colt from the holster and placed it close to her hand. She’ll do, he thought.
He walked across the clearing and came to the spot by which they had entered the place the night before. Keeping the camp in full view, he hauled himself up on the nearest boulder and lay flat on its already warm top. He followed the imaginary line of his back trail, out beyond the first of the rocks, far back across the barren land. It was, as always, empty.
Or was it?
Kennick’s stomach tightened. His breath stuck in his suddenly dry throat. He had seen movement. He prayed he was wrong. No, there it was again. Two moving shapes on the crest of a rise a quarter of a mile back. As he watched, a third shape rose from behind the rise. Three slow-moving shapes which could only be horses and riders.
Three.
Griff McBride. Joe Beecher. Bo McBride.
Who else? It had to be them. Kennick knew it. Knew it as plain as he knew he was sweating. His hunch had been right. He had been followed. All that over-the-shoulder he’d been doing. Deep inside he had known it would come to this. Why hadn’t he taken B rough ton’s offer? The stockade at Cameron would have kept McBride out of the way until Kennick was in a better position to face the problem. Was it that old enemy, pride, again? He began to wonder whether a man could put too much value on a thing like pride. It seemed as if he spent an awful lot of time getting shuck of problems brought on by pride.
He lay there for a moment and felt a quiet desperation take hold. This he shook off like a dog shakes off water. He had no time to be scared. Too much depended on his coming out of this in one piece. He had Kicking Bear to look out for. And now the girl too. Did he have enough in him to get them through the trouble that lay ahead? Kennick couldn’t answer that. He’d just have to face what came and do what he had to do. A man could do no more.
Beyond the rocks, the three shapes moved down off the rise and angled slowly towards the boulder field.
Kennick glanced across the clearing to where Jeannie crouched over the cook fire. He would have to tell her about this. She was going to be involved, so she had a right to know why. He didn’t relish the idea of telling the whole miserable story again. But what choice did he have?
‘Jeannie,’ he called urgently, pitching his voice low.
She looked his way, and he beckoned her to him. She rose, picking up the Colt, and then came across to stand at the base of the rock on which he lay.
‘Food’s ready,’ she said.
Kennick shook his head, put out a hand to haul her up beside him.
‘Lie flat,’ he told her.
She obeyed without question, sensing something was wrong. It showed in his voice, quick jerky movements.
Kennick said, ‘Look out there. Follow my finger.’
She did as he said. Seconds later, he heard her sharp intake of breath.
‘Who are they?’
Kennick told her, tersely and simply, without ever once taking his eyes off the three approaching riders. Jeannie lay beside him, listening in silence. She heard him out. When he finished, she remained silent for a long minute.
The three horsemen had dismounted now. They squatted in the shadow of a high boulder and drank from their canteens.
‘Isn’t there any way you can reason with this McBride? Can’t you talk it out?’Jeannie asked then.
Kennick shook his head. ‘I’ve tried. All it got me was a fight. It’s gone beyond talk. The only way out now is by talking with guns.’
‘But it’s so pointless,’ Jeannie protested.
‘You and I know that, but try telling Griff McBride. This thing has gone sour on him. It’s turned him into an animal with one aim in life. To kill me. I’ve finally convinced myself of that’
‘It sounds so horrible.’
‘Out here, Jeannie, a man with a grudge settles it his own way. Law out here is a hell of a lot different than in Layersville. Most times, it’s the gun that settles a score, not a judge and jury. It’s the only way Griff McBride knows. He’s decided I as good as murdered his brother. So he wants revenge. He can’t be reached by talk.’
‘They look as though they know we’re in here.’
‘Happen they do,’ Kennick drawled. He glanced over his shoulder. Kicking Bear was awake now, sitting erect, watching Kennick closely. He looked out at the three riders again. They had a fire going and were making coffee.
‘Luke, what are we going to do?’
He’d been tossing that question around inside his head. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He hoped he could think of something. Fast. He was beginning to wish that he’d ignored Colonel Broughton’s summons and stayed in Wyoming. Wyoming ... his ranch and home.