Buck watched the speeding wagon sway through the first turn. Wes was a man of his word, and a damn good driver. The heavy vehicle tilted and rocked but stayed upright. One last turn, this one more shallow, and they’d be out the shooters’ range. Unless there were more shooters beyond the switchback.
As the lumbering Concord with its precious cargo raced past the ambush site, Buck heard a stuttering of gunfire. Apparently the highwaymen were shooting wild. They probably hadn’t anticipated a galloping team. Wes had barely negotiated the second turn when a metallic screech split the air. Buck watched in horror as the left rear wheel flew apart and the coach tilted precariously. The frantic horses dragged it until they could pull no more.
That damned hub.
The jolt had thrown Freddie off the roof into the bushes. Buck jumped to his feet and watched helplessly as Wes valiantly clung to the reins. After several unsuccessful attempts he was able to reach down and pull the linchpin. Freed, the frantic team galloped off, and the unbalanced vehicle collapsed onto its side.
Buck vaulted up into the saddle and spurred Gypsy down the side of the bluff toward them. The gunfire had ceased. Why? To reload? To get to their horses?
The trees were huge. There was no clear path. Gypsy had been sure-footed in the past. He had to trust the animal’s instincts. Their course was contorted, the descent maddeningly slow. Minutes seemed like hours until he arrived at the bottom.
“The ladies all right?” he yelled out as he raced forward.
“They’re fine,” Tracker assured him. “I told them to stay inside while I checked the area.”
Sarah had pulled herself out of the topside door and was just reaching the ground when Buck came up to help her. She ignored him aside, however, and reached inside for Janey. The girl’s face was pale with fright as Sarah urged her over the side of the opening.
“Janey? Are you hurt?”
“No, Miz. Sarah. I don’t think so.”
“Y’all need to get off the road.” Buck looked around. “Where’s Freddie?”
“Here.” The young guard limped from the other side of the road, clutching his left arm.
Sarah rushed impulsively toward him. “You’re bleeding.”
“Get off the road and out of sight,” Buck ordered.
“How bad is it?” Sarah asked Freddie as she supported his injured arm.
“I’m all right, ma’am. Just nicked me. My arm ain’t broke.”
“Get into the woods, all of you,” Buck commanded them. “Now. Y’all have to take cover.”
Everyone but Tracker moved toward the woods bordering the road.
“Faster,” Buck urged. “When you’re safely out of sight, wrap it tightly to slow the bleeding. I’ll look at it later. Now where did Tracker go?”
#
Rufus was mad as a hornet. His plans had gone bad again. He was dealing with idiots and now two more had gotten themselves killed. Well, it was all their own fault. If they’d stayed still in the trees like he’d told them . . .
He put his thumb and forefinger between his teeth and let loose with a shrill whistle. His men began to lower themselves from the trees.
“Jake, bring up the horses, so’s we can catch up with ‘em.”
“Boss, this plan of yours ain’t working real good.”
“You want that gold, don’t you? Look on the bright side. Now there’s two less people to split it with. There’ll be more for everybody.”
“What about them women?” Clem asked. “You said we could have the women.”
“You ain’t getting nothing, gold or women, if we don’t get a move on.”
Jake rode up on a chestnut, pulling the reins of half a dozen equally emaciated nags behind him. Rufus mounted the bay. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Bobby, the youngest member of the gang, shook his head. “I’ve had enough. I don’t want nothing more to do with this here doctor of yours. He’s done killed four of us already. I ain’t gonna be the next one.”
“You will be,” Rufus snarled, “if’n you don’t do as you’re told. Here’s your choice. Ride out with me or die right here.”
The pimply-faced farm boy stared at him. It took a few seconds to realize Rufus meant what he said. “Sure, boss. Sure.” He grabbed the reins of a brown bag of bones and climbed into the saddle.
The rest of them mounted their horses without comment.
“They’s probably slowed down by now,” Rufus said, “maybe even stopped to catch their breath. Now’s the time to attack. Just remember, the doc’s mine. Anyone of you kill him, and I’ll kill you. Got that?” Heads nodded. “Now get going. I’ll be right behind you.”
They cantered off on the road toward the first bend. About halfway through it, Hank, who was in the lead, pointed to the overturned stagecoach. “Sitting ducks,” he said and laughed. “Boys, here’s the payoff.”
#
Wes, Freddie and the women were fleeing into the woods. Buck was about to follow when he looked past the overturned coach and saw Tracker sprinting toward him from the riverside bend in the road.
“Where the hell you been?”
Not even breathing heavy, Tracker answered, “Checking to see who’s behind us. Five of them, and they’ll be here soon.”
“Since you didn’t tell me about these explosives earlier, you better do it now and fast.”
“Leave the box in the coach,” Tracker told him. “That way they won’t see it and skedaddle. I’ll stick in a fuse. We can light it before we run. The tricky part’ll be the timing.”
Buck could hear hoof beats echoing off the bluff walls. How long would it be before Rufus and his gang appeared? Minutes or seconds? “Can your surprise be set off with a rifle shot?”
“I told you it can’t. That’s why it’s been safe for me to carry it the way I have.”
“How about lighting the fuse with a rifle shot?”
Tracker stared up at him incredulously. “You’d have to be exceptionally accurate. I don’t see how anyone—”
“You run fast. I shoot straight. Here’s what we’re going to do.”
Buck dismounted and helped Tracker position the box on the upper side of the coach, snug against the rear wheel.
“Set your fuse, Mr. Bouchard. Do it fast and make it very short.”
“You’re ahead of me, doctor.”
“Put the end in a pool of powder about the size of a butterbean on the metal rim. I’ll fire into it and hope the spark it produces sets things off.”
“You that good?” Tracker looked at it skeptically.
“I’ll see it and I’ll hit it.”
Just as they completed the task, they heard the sound of horses approaching.
“Go,” Buck ordered.
The two men dashed into the forest twenty yards away. Buck stopped at the base of a hickory. Without having to be told what to do, Tracker boosted him up to the lowest branch, then took cover behind a towering cypress. More limber than the last time he’d gone tree climbing, Buck ascended hand over hand from bough to bough. He straddled a limb and faced the wrecked coach.
He’d barely had a chance to aim his Henry when the gang charged around the bend of the road. Whooping and yelling like a bunch of kids at the sight of candy, they kicked their sorry mounts into a gallop and headed straight for the wagon. The men jumped off their moving horses and ran to the coach, still yelling. Buck waited until they were within a few feet of the box before he squeezed the trigger.
The men paused at the sound of the rifle fire. The ricochet whined as the bullet struck the wheel rim. The fuse sputtered into life.
The explosion that resulted a few seconds later shook the earth.