WIND RUNNER RODE CAUTIOUSLY but fast enough that he could see the dust up ahead. He didn’t want to run his horse down.
Moore was riding hard. His horse wouldn’t last long at this pace. Wind Runner followed until dust no longer rose in the distance. Moore’s horse was probably played out, so Wind Runner slowed. The approach to his position had to be made carefully. With Moore reduced to traveling on foot he was as dangerous as a rattlesnake.
A horse whinnied in distress.
Wind Runner dismounted and unsheathed his rifle. Still hugging the boulders, he reached a point where he could see the exhausted animal. The horse was down covered in lather and panting shallow, rapid breaths. The horse twisted and kicked, too weak to stand. The animal was dying.
The warrior wanted to end the horse’s suffering with a bullet but that would reveal his presence and position. The horse lay with its face towards Wind Runner, his eyes searching in panic. Then the eyes found him. The gelding tried to raise its head, but it flopped back down. The horse seemed to calm down, his eyes meeting Wind Runner’s who couldn’t stand to witness the animal’s suffering anymore. He raised his rifle, placed his sights on the animal’s forehead and fired.
Before the bullet found its mark Wind Runner had spun and retreated back along the boulders. Several rounds ricocheted from his last position, the bullets flying off with a whine and an angry buzz.
He reached his horse and walked it back to the cover of a cove of scrub oaks. Then he carefully left the cover of the boulders to scout a different route up the mountain where Bart Moore hid. Just as he spotted Moore’s hiding place he heard horses approaching. He slipped back down the ridge into a crevice between the boulders. He heard two horses pass, then peeked out and recognized the back of his brothers.
“Black Feather. Fire Hawk.” Wind Runner stepped out from his hiding place. “Good to see you, brothers.”
“Wind Runner,” Fire Hawk clasped his arm. Have you found Moore?”
“He is up on the mountain with a rifle. He rode his horse to death. I had to shoot it.”
“Where’d you see him last?” Fire Hawk asked.
“About two hundred yards up the mountain from a gap around the end of the boulders.”
“We need to approach him from different directions,” Fire Hawk thought for a minute. One side can safely advance if he’s kept busy on the other side.” You two start up from here. I’ll wait for your shots then gallop past the gap and start up the other side. That will give you a chance to gain some ground on him.”
Black Feather dismounted and tied his horse next to Wind Runner’s. He pulled his rifle out of its scabbard, stepped over to Fire Hawk. “Be careful, brother.”
Jasper nodded. “You, too.”
Jasper waited. The sun was bright and a fickle breeze played with the leaves of the sycamores so green in the sunlight. He put extra rifle cartridges in his pockets. Five minutes had not yet passed when a shot echoed down the mountain. Jasper pulled his hat down hard and urged Coal forward. The big stallion reached full gallop just before the end of the boulders. Jasper lay low along Coal’s neck urging him with a low voice into the horse’s ear.
The crack of a bullet tightened Jasper’s gut. Then another…and another smacked a large boulder and ricocheted when Jasper passed. Coal galloped across the gap.
Jasper sat up and reined in Coal. A deer trail wound up the side of the mountain. He jumped off, pulled his rifle and started up the mountain at a fast trot.
Catching a glimpse of Black Feather, Jasper signaled with the cry of an eagle. Black Feather stopped and looked then pointed his rifle. Jasper followed the direction of Black Feather’s signal and saw Moore headed up a ravine. Jasper figured he could go another hundred yards before Moore would have a chance of spotting him.
The trail was steep and the muscles in Jasper’s legs began to burn as he kept up his pace. Breathing came harder but he focused on his target and didn’t falter. He reached the base of an outcropping and stopped. Gulping air, he took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his head and face. When he regained control of his breathing, he crawled out onto the outcropping.
The ravine was cut wide by a dry wash lined with yellow granite chunks and sun bleached boulders. The wash bed provided a rocky but passable trail shaded by scrub oak and knotty pine. Cliffs and granite walls the color of rust lined most of the ravine. He could see his Indian brothers climbing the other side of the ravine, slightly ahead. He looked for Moore but couldn’t see him.
He pulled his telescope out from inside his shirt. He swept the glass in front of Black Feather and Wind Runner to make sure Moore wasn’t waiting in ambush. Swinging the glass up the wash he caught some movement but lost it in the dense cover of oak and pine. A few seconds later he clearly saw Moore moving at a fast pace, but soon lost him again in the trees. The outlaw was at least a hundred and fifty yards in front of the lawmen and still moving fast. Moore had good cover and concealment. A clear shot would be difficult now.
Jasper looked further ahead and realized why Moore was headed that direction. At the end of the ravine a large granite wall dominated the area. A granite wall that provided high ground and the perfect defensible position. A twinge of fear wound through his gut. The way Moore headed up the wash made Jasper realize the outlaw had been here before.
Jasper continued up the mountain at a quicker pace now that he knew Moore’s destination. He reached another outcropping and took another look in the ravine. Wind Runner was a couple hundred feet ahead of Black Feather and had reached the top corner of the granite wall on that side of the ravine. The warrior eased out and crouched at the edge of the cliff, scanning the ravine looking for Moore. He rose and turned. A shot echoed along the side of the mountain and Jasper saw a chunk fly off Wind Runner’s left leg. He fell on his side and the momentum pulled him over the edge of the cliff. He managed to get a hold on to something Jasper couldn’t see and hung there over the side of the cliff.
More shots rang out and Jasper spotted Moore behind a pile of granite. Jasper raised his rifle and fired two rounds, but he heard his bullets ricochet. He turned back to where he’d last seen Black Feather but couldn’t find him. Jasper looked back to Moore’s last position. He’d disappeared behind the granite. Jasper turned back to Wind Runner and sucked in a sharp breath.
Bright red blood poured down Wind Runner’s leg. The young warrior struggled to pull himself up, his left hand slipped. He reached back up with his left hand, but it was too far. He grabbed his right arm with his left hand and tried to pull himself up that way, still he couldn’t make it.
Jasper watched wishing he could reach out and grab the hand and pull his brother to safety. He prayed to the spirits to give his brother strength to win this battle. But Wind Runner’s hand slowly, slipped off the cliff. His fall was silent until it ended with the thump of his body on the boulders sixty feet below.
Jasper held back his pain like Pa had taught him, but inside a torrent of tears roiled together with his anger. When he finally regained control he noticed that he didn’t see Black Feather anywhere. He called out the eagle cry.
No answer. That meant Black Feather was probably down as well.
Rage and heartache pushed Jasper up the mountain. The colors of the mountain became intense hues of bright emerald trees, glowing gold granite, flaxen tinged sand and stark white boulders. But there was no beauty in it. His only interest now was justice for his fallen brothers.
Jasper reached the corner of the granite wall. He hunkered down behind some boulders and took a minute to collect himself. He had lost his objectivity. Lesson learned…but it had been a costly one. Slow deep breaths soon calmed his rage. The criminal turned out to be a much better fighter than Jasper had believed.
Jasper surveyed the layout. The boulders that gave him cover also blocked his view. He got up on his haunches and listened. His ears sorted through what little noise he heard…the breeze, rustling leaves, swaying trees. The birds were quiet and the animals were still...Moore was close. Then, a loose stone to the right.
Jasper moved around the left side of the boulders, perilously close to the edge of the cliff. He sidestepped around the end of the boulders when Moore burst into view from the other end and fired his rifle from the hip. A bullet smacked the boulder next to Jasper’s head, spraying the right side of his face with rock and bullet fragments.
Jasper pitched forward to avoid going over the cliff and rolled to a kneeling position as Moore fired again and missed. Jasper’s right Colt instantly came up in his hand spitting flame and lead. Moore staggered, dropped his rifle and ran behind the boulder.
Blood blinded Jasper’s right eye and he pressed his body against the boulder, his heart pounding in his ears. He could hear Moore running away, then saw him cutting to the left through the live oak. He wiped his eye with his sleeve and started after his prey.
Jasper took his time. Moore’s trail was easy to follow, but he was wounded and every hunter knows a wounded animal is the most dangerous animal. Maintaining the best cover and concealment he could, Jasper tracked the signs step after careful step. Every detail appeared in sharp focus and he caught every movement...heard every sound.
The trail led to a cave about a hundred yards from the edge of the cliff. Pain, anger and even fear wove through him as he tried to clear his blurred vision. He picked a position with good cover and waited, fighting a woozy feeling, fighting to keep the world from spinning into a deep black hole.
Bart Moore sat against the stone wall of the cave watching the outside He tried to bandage his arm with strips torn from the bottom of his shirt, but the blood continued to seep through the cloth. Each breath came out in grunts and whimpers. After tying the bandage he threw the bloody sleeve he tore off to the back of the cave. He put his pistol in his left hand and stared out the cave entrance.
Pent up frustration and emotion erupted and surged through him. He screamed and began kicking the cave floor with the heels of his boots. Then he stopped, his chest heaving, tears running down his face… abandoned and alone again. Mother, why did you bring me into this lousy world when you knew you couldn’t love me? Why’d you give me up to father when you knew how evil he was, you bitch? Why?!
Anger coursed through his veins. He wanted to kill everybody, but most of all he wanted to kill Jasper Lee. Bart pictured his bullet smashing into Lee’s head as he stared out of the cave...waiting. After a few minutes he heard a sound in the back of the cave. He peered into the darkness. Nothing there. He turned back to look out of the cave. A low growl caused cold fear to coil up his spine. He turned to see glowing eyes rushing toward him. He fired, the flash blinding him. Ripping pain engulfed his arm from razor sharp teeth closing around his hand and tearing it off. He screamed…and screamed…and screamed.
The shot jolted Jasper. Then he heard Moore screaming and the growls of wolves. He listened trying to figure out what was going on, then it dawned on him. Moving cautiously to the side of the cave entrance he listened to the screams fade to gurgling whimpers, then nothing. Jasper moved just enough to peer inside the cave over the barrel of his rifle.
Moore was still alive, his mouth moving but saying nothing.
The wolves fed on the contents of his ripped open stomach. His white face, colored only with streaks of scarlet turned toward Jasper. Moore gasped and a hissing whisper came from his throat. “Shoot me.”
The two men’s eyes locked for a few long seconds. Then, without a word, Jasper turned and walked away.