In one roll Durant was behind a rock, gun in hand.

  More fierce gunfire tore chips out of the rock as she calmly looked up at the rocks.

  Durant reached for her and pulled her down beside him, shielding her body with his. She didn’t put up even the slightest resistance as her soft body was crushed against Durant’s hard torso, her face only inches from his.

  The gunfire faded away but still she stayed close to his side—even pressing her breasts harder into the side of his chest.

  Slowly she took her head off his chest and Durant looked into her eyes. She ran a hand seductively through the hairs on his chest—put her other hand around the back of his neck and brought his face down to hers.

  Durant wasn’t sure what game she was playing, having barely dodged a sniper’s bullets, but he returned her passionate kiss. But when her fingers sought to undo the buttons of his shirt, he eased her back and brought his gun up between them.

  For a moment Beth’s breathing continued to come in rapid gasps, but noticing now Durant’s lack of response, she pulled back and jumped to her feet.

  Alarmed that she may have shown herself to the ambusher, Durant grabbed her ankle and tried to pull her back behind the rock. But Beth lashed out at his face with her other leg, and stumbled sideways as three more shots sounded in rapid succession.

  Hoping she’d at least stay down now, Durant ignored her and took aim on a huge boulder set deep into the hillside, fifty yards above him.

  Durant knew he’d selected his cover well, with a wall of rock behind him, a ledge above his head keeping him safe from attack from that quarter, and the rock in front of him. If Beth could only control herself and stay put, he knew they would be safe. His time would come.

  The shooting ended and Beth crawled up to lie close to him again and said;

  “I’m so desperately sorry. But should we stay here?”

  “We’ve no place else to go, Mrs. Morrison. And while we’re here and can keep our heads down, we’ll be safe.”

  “What if they rush us? I don’t have a gun. I can’t be of any assistance to you if they rush us.”

  “They?” Durant asked her.

  Durant noticed her face harden slightly, but then she quickly said;

  “There were so many shots. Surely Duke’s got somebody up there with him.”

  “He could have a rifle and a six-gun.”

  “Of course,” she said, brushing grit off her blouse. “Then you do really think we’re safe here?”

  “If anybody tries to rush us ... he’d be a fool.”

  Beth looked around and was forced to agree with him. “Did you select this place on purpose, Mr. Durant? I mean, we could have been attacked at anytime and anywhere.”

  “If that’s Sabien up there, I expected him to start shooting at us sooner or later—most likely when we stopped and made camp.”

  “So you stopped here, knowing we’d be safe.”

  “Being smart on that score is what’s kept me alive this long,” he said, gesturing for her to be quiet.

  High on the hillside, he thought he heard a noise. But though they lay side by side, absolutely still and quiet, not another sound came from above them.

  Finally Beth broke the silence.

  “You seem to know what you’re doing, Mr. Durant,” she said.

  “I manage.”

  “Have you been in many situations like this one?”

  “I’ve had my share of trouble.”

  She smiled warmly. “Why are you being so modest? I think you have built yourself a reputation in most parts of the country you’ve traveled. Am I right?”

  Durant held her look firmly in his own.

  “Why the interest, Mrs. Morrison?”

  “You fascinate me.”

  “Just remember ... it isn’t that long since you lost your husband.”

  Her head came up sharply and her eyes went flint hard. Then slowly her expression softened and she almost whispered; “You know nothing about my life with Tom.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “It’s a sad story and one few people would believe.”

  “Try me.”

  Beth moved slightly away from him and looked nervously across the cleared section.

  “My brother didn’t want me to marry Tom in the first place. He had no time for him whatever. But I was young and foolish and, if you like, desperate for a man’s love. Gunther was always kind to me, as a brother’s love goes ... but it wasn’t long before I found out kindness doesn’t make a person happy.”

  “You needed a man,” Durant breathed.

  Anger flared in her eyes again. “Is that so bad ...? Is it wrong for a woman to feel that way ...?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” he said, craning his neck for another sight of the sniper.

  “You’ve never been a woman, knowing how much a woman wants to feel a man’s body, sometimes powerless to do anything about it?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Slowly she ran her hand along his thigh, stopped short of his groin.

  “Gunther was continually finding fault with me—so much so I just didn’t care anymore. I met Tom in town one day and in his awkward, bungling way he made it clear he wanted me. He had a ranch and a lot of ambition.” She laughed cynically. “Ambition. He had that all right. From morning to night he was either out with his cattle or mending fences, breaking horses, branding and doing a million things other than being with me. Then he’d come home, eat his supper and go to bed ... too exhausted to ...”

  “Spend some time with you, huh?” Durant asked.

  “What kind of life is that for a woman with needs? Tom was no more than a crude, clumsy buffoon. I can hardly remember a time when he spoke lovingly to me. He certainly never made me laugh. His only passion was for his work. He never once asked me if I was happy. I was going to leave him and take the stage back East.”

  Durant was keeping his eyes on the rugged slopes above him. Still nothing moved.

  “Then came the news that he’d been killed. Strangely, the only emotion I felt at the news was one of relief. Gunther came out to the ranch and brought me back to town. We agreed I should stay on for a while, then he’d sell the ranch and send me the money wherever I happened to get settled.”

  “So why this manhunt after Sabien?” Durant put to her.

  “That was Gunther’s idea. He knew nobody else would go after Tom’s killer, so he felt it was his duty. He told me if somebody didn’t deal with Sabien soon, he’d end up killing us all. My brother, for all his faults, is a good man, Mr. Durant. He thinks of other people and never of himself.”

  Durant had his own thoughts about that—but kept his opinion to himself.

  “He stands to benefit from Zee Weaver’s death,” he told her. “Did he tell you about that?”

  “Their agreement, you mean?” she asked.

  Durant nodded.

  “Wasn’t that a smart thing to do?” she stressed. “I mean, now three of them have that agreement. And three is certainly better than one.”

  “It used to be four but no agreement will do Zee Weaver any good now,” Durant reminded her, again checking the country above them.

  It had gone so quiet he began to think the attacker had fled. But how could he be certain without showing himself?

  “Let’s just leave things as they are, Mrs. Morrison. In a short while I’m going to sneak out of here. When I do I want you to stay put.”

  “All right,” she said.

  Durant was a little surprised by that and he came slowly to his feet.

  After a check of the slope above them, he suddenly broke from cover, charging straight up the rocky ground. But although he had to cross three cleared sections, there was no more shooting from the sniper. He finally reached a high point—to find the ambusher’s hiding place behind a flat rock.

  But there were two sets of boot prints showing out clearly on the sandy ground.

  He returned to find Beth sitting comfortably in the shade of the rock, brushing her hair again.

  “When you’re finished prettying yourself up,” he said, “we’ll move out.”

  “Isn’t it getting too late?” she asked.

  The heat was dying along with the sun, and long shadows were beginning to thread their way down across the landscape. He knew at best they would only have half an hour of daylight to negotiate the slope. What lay behind it he couldn’t begin to guess. Staying here would get them nowhere.

  “Okay,” he relented. “I guess a good night’s rest won’t do either of us any harm.”

  “And we can talk and get to know each other better,” she said. “Do you mind if I tell you you’ve impressed me very much so far? I thought at first you were just another upstart who believe their ability with a gun is everything. But I know you’re different now.”

  Durant looked at her, knowing a night with her in a place such as this might resemble being thrown into a sack with a rattler.

  But maybe he could blunt the rattler’s fangs and come out unscathed, he mused.

  He brought two blankets from his saddle roll and spread them out on the ground, several feet apart. Then, putting his gun on his chest, he stretched out as the last of the day’s sunlight warmed his legs.

  He heard her moving about, but closed his eyes and pretended to sleep ...

  Chapter Eight – The Gingham Trail

  DURANT LAY AWAKE most of the night—as he’d done so many times in the past.

  Too many things kept playing on his mind.

  For one, two men had tried to fill him full of holes.

  Assuming one of the men was Duke Sabien, who was the other one? And if Sabien had a partner, where had the man been all this time?

  Secondly, Beth Morrison had acted strangely, to say the least, when the shooting had started. While he’d sought cover, she had remained out in the open. It was only after she had joined him behind the rock that the shooting broke out a second time. Yet she would have been an easy target even to a rank amateur.

  Thirdly, it was a strange time for a woman to try to strip a man bare when there were two ambushers taking potshots at them ...

  To Durant, it looked as if either the ambushers didn’t like killing a woman—or whoever was up there was doing their best to protect her.

  Finally, there was her sad story about her life with Tom Morrison and his inability to satisfy her. So why, on his death, did she so fearlessly want to buy into this manhunt?

  Durant didn’t fall for her explanation that she was only trying to help her brother. He had been fooled once by Duke Sabien—he wasn’t buying any of this woman’s tall story.

  So he lay there ... until her heavy breathing told him she’d dropped off to sleep ...

  It was close to sunrise before Beth began to stir. Without opening his eyes Durant kept his breathing steady, sensing she was awake and was looking at him. After a few minutes, she slipped out of her blanket, crossed to her horse and led it quietly out of the rocks.

  Durant remained still as a corpse as she walked the horse several yards before the creak of leather told him she was in the saddle. But only when the steady clip-clop of the horse’s hooves echoed down to him did he know she’d gone.

  He rose up on one elbow, bringing his gun down from his chest. Her departure had been so clumsy she either knew next to nothing about stealth—or she figured he was a fool.

  Durant waited five minutes before he got to his feet, packed up his blankets and swung onto Sundown’s back. He rode out of cover and began to scale the steep rocky slope after her.

  He watched the ground carefully until he reached the top of the slope and saw her, riding slowly no more than five hundred yards ahead of him, across an open stretch of thinly grassed prairie.

  He waited for her to reach the other side and slip into timber before he heeled Sundown on—keeping close to cover. He reached the trees without incident.

  Her tracks were quite clear and he followed them for another half mile before he saw her high up on a rise, seemingly uncertain which direction to take. She kept fiddling with something behind her saddle and Durant was now certain she was leading him on, letting herself be seen whenever she got too far in front of him.

  Why? he asked himself.

  He decided to play along with her to find out.

  He left his cover when Beth rode down into a short valley. When he reached the top of the rise he saw that the valley was no more than a hundred yards across but a good mile deep.

  The trail Beth had taken cut close to a high cliff where there was enough cover to hide a dozen men. At the end of it, a huge boulder hid whatever country lay beyond ...

  Durant slipped his gun from his holster and checked the loads, leaned forward to scratch Sundown between his ears.

  “You’ll know what to do, boy, just as I do. Don’t get yourself hurt.”

  He ran a finger around the inside of his yellow bandanna as if he were already feeling the heat of the day. Then to complete the picture, he took a canteen from his saddle horn and drank sparingly then soaked his bandanna and moistened the big black’s mouth.

  The canteen back in place and his gun held down behind his leg, he let Sundown pick his own way down into the valley.

  As he reached a point roughly in the middle of the valley, he suddenly whipped Sundown into a run and lay along the big horse’s neck. He’d gone only twenty yards when the shooting started—from two places high in the cliff face. He veered Sundown to the right then suddenly left without the horse slowing its pace.

  Bullets whistled over their heads and kicked up grass to their left and right before they reached the safety of the boulder and went behind it.

  Durant could see no sign of Beth Morrison, although open country stretched for miles ahead of him.

  Keeping back a grin of satisfaction, Durant looked to the end of the cliff face and saw the narrow cut in the rock, wide enough to take a horse ...

  He couldn’t hide his smile now, knowing Beth Morrison would be smarting from her failure to have him gunned down. He knew she’d linked up with her brother—couldn’t be certain of the identity of the other sniper.

  The only name he could come up with was Duke Sabien ...

  He crawled twenty yards before he came to his knees behind a screen of dry brush. The morning was deathly quiet and the sun on his back already had a sting to it.

  He then tried to figure what his opponents would do next.

  Having failed to gun him down, Durant guessed their next move would be to back away and wait for another opportunity.

  And they wouldn’t have Beth Morrison to distract them or slow them down ...

  He slipped from cover to catch sight of two figures moving stealthily along the top of the cliff face a quarter mile above him. But before he could identify them, they disappeared below the craggy ridgeline.

  Beth Morrison wasn’t one of them.

  He returned to Sundown and swung into the saddle.

  The ridgeline ran due west for some three miles before it ended abruptly in a sheer drop. Unless he missed his guess, it seemed Beth had led him in almost a full circle.

  If that were true, Dryden should be somewhere close on the other side of the hills.

  Would she go back to Dryden?

  He sensed he would have his answer by sundown.

  He backtracked to the top of the rise and headed down toward a desolate prairie. By midmorning, he’d crossed it and reached another long valley. Pushing Sundown at a reasonable clip, he was confident that if the trio did head on to Dryden ... he would be ahead of them.

  He drew rein and went up a long, steep slope on foot to take cover behind a huge boulder. But although he spent several minutes carefully checking the country around him in all directions, he saw no one.

  In the distance he saw a line of black hills. Looking through the shimmering heat haze, he saw where a ridgeline was cut short by a steep drop, where the low country connected the drop to another line of hills. If the trio were not heading back to Dryden, this had to be their escape route.

  He went back to Sundown and headed southwest, hoping to reach the hills before noon.

  It was close to one o’clock when he reached the ridgeline. The climb was easy going and he made good time to the other side then headed due south—where the tracks of three horses stood out visibly in the sand.

  He followed them down a dry creek bed where they’d cold camped. Here the trio separated—one set of tracks heading further south and the other two going west.

  Durant sat saddle and threw the names around in his head—Duke Sabien, Beth Morrison, Gunther Hoovey. It was an unlikely and strange alliance until he started to piece the events back in Dryden together.

  Hoovey twice putting Ben Klein onto him, that eventually led to the giant’s death, still puzzled him: What reason did Hoovey have to fear him ...?

  Then Zee Weaver being shot and his killer getting away without being seen.

  Could it have been Gunther Hoovey or Duke Sabien? Durant wondered.

  Every fiber of Durant’s being told him his man was Gunther Hoovey.

  Had Hoovey gone into the killing business to build up his fortune? If he later got rid of Barnaby and Johnson, would he gain control of the livery stable and the saddlery? Was this his way of becoming a rich man in Dryden?

  Durant hoped not—but was still left wondering if that had been the man’s long range plans from the start. And with Sabien making a nuisance of himself, few people would be worried about a couple of unfortunate deaths.

  Hoovey’s mistake, if there were one, was letting his sister take an active part in the scheme. But Durant had to admit Beth had done her work well. Only his experience had saved him from a similar fate.

  Durant decided to follow the two sets of tracks—knowing the third was clearly headed back to town. And he would be wary all the way ...

  He trailed the two riders well into the late afternoon. Coming out of a dry wash where they’d camped to spell the horses, he drew rein suddenly as the echoes of gunshots drifted down to him on the hot air.

  The echoes seemed to hang in the air for a long time, bouncing off the rocky sides of a narrow gorge.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9