“Get it over with,” Cole said, his voice raised, hoping that his grandson could hear him. It was a message for Danny more than Hauer.
“You should have killed me during the war,” Hauer said. “After I shoot you, I will track down the boy and take care of him as well.”
Hauer raised the rifle again. This time, he put it to his shoulder and aimed carefully at Cole.
“Where would you like me to shoot you?” Hauer asked. “Through the heart? Through the head?”
“Just get it over with.”
Another shot came from the forest.
There was no snap of a bullet going past. Instead, there was the solid whunk of a hollow-point bullet hitting flesh and bone.
Hauer reacted as if someone had just slapped him hard between the shoulder blades. Intended to bring down big game like wild boar and stags by shredding lungs and internal organs, the mushrooming slug was equally effective on human targets.
Hauer stumbled forward a couple of steps, a look of disbelief in his eyes. The rifle drooped in his hands. Slowly, he sank to his knees. Then he slumped over sideways.
But he wasn’t dead yet. Hauer’s hands still grasped the rifle. He struggled to find the strength to point it at Cole.
Cole walked over and took hold of the rifle, wresting it from Hauer’s hands. His right side hurt like fire and his shoulder felt stiff, but not much effort was involved as he aimed the muzzle down at Hauer.
“Hauer, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Why the hell did you shoot that nun all those years ago? Hell, she was just trying to help one of your own men.”
“I never liked nuns. Isn’t that reason enough?”
“No.”
“Look at the two of us, all shot to pieces,” Hauer said softly. It was an effort for him to speak. A bubble of pink froth appeared at the corner of his lips. “For us, the war is finally over.”
“I reckon,” Cole said. “I’ve got to say, this has been a long time coming.”
Then he pulled the trigger.
Chapter Twenty-Five
In the aftermath of the final gunshot, a stillness settled over the valley, the forest, and the surrounding mountains. It was a peaceful quiet for a change, rather than a menacing silence. Cole breathed in the crisp morning air, saying a silent prayer of thanks that he and Danny were still alive.
Hauer had been a goner, lung shot by Danny’s bullet, but Cole made sure that he was the one who finished him off. When the authorities asked, he could say with a straight face that he had been the one who killed Hauer.
He turned his attention to the edge of the forest, where Danny was emerging, rifle at his side. Cole stood, smiling, waiting for him.
“Good shooting,” Cole said.
Danny looked shaken. “I shot him,” he said. “I just killed a man.”
“You did what you had to do. It was self-defense — him or us,” Cole said. He reached for the rifle and took it in his good left hand. “Listen up now. We both know you did the right thing. I’m the one who did all the shooting, if anyone asks.”
A thought seemed to occur to Danny. “You mean the police?”
“I reckon someone might wonder how Hauer ended up dead. Considering that he’s shot in the back and all, they ain’t going to buy that it was suicide.”
Danny looked down at the body. Hauer had been an imposing man in life, but in death he seemed to have shrunken.
“He tried to kill us,” Danny stated, as if still trying to convince himself.
“He surely tried, but that didn’t work out so well for him, now did it?” Cole took Danny by the elbow, steering him away from the body. “I’m proud of you, Danny. I know it’s not easy, but you can hold your head high. You did the right thing.”
Danny nodded.
“C’mon, now that Hauer’s not here to stop us anymore, let’s go see if we can find that trail out of this valley. I could use some coffee.”
The thought of food seemed to snap Danny out of his trance. “And pancakes,” Danny said.
“Hmm. Bacon, too.”
“And some orange juice! My stomach is rumbling now, Pa Cole.”
“All right then, let’s get out of here.”
Together, they started toward the western neck of the valley.
They were not alone for long.
The stillness of the morning air was interrupted by the steady thup, thup, thup of an approaching helicopter. Soon enough, the aircraft came into sight, flying low.
"You think they’re looking for us?” Danny asked.
“Only one way to find out. Give ‘em a wave.”
Danny did just that, using a big howdy motion that they called a hillbilly wave back home. Instead of continuing on its route, the helicopter flew lower and circled overhead.
“I reckon they were looking for us, after all,” Cole said.
Further confirmation arrived a few minutes later, when a couple of official-looking off-road vehicles came bouncing up the rough road into the valley. Several men and a couple of women got out, all wearing the bright red jackets of the mountain rescue team, known as le Peloton Gendarmerie de Haute Montagne. They gave Cole and Danny water, put new bandages on Cole’s arm, and much to Cole’s embarrassment, wrapped him in a shiny emergency blanket that looked as if it came off a spaceship.
Another blanket was used to cover Hauer’s remains, which Cole had managed to point out to the team.
But there was no return to the lodge just yet. They waited for an hour until yet another vehicle arrived, this one carrying two uniformed gendarmes and two plainclothes men who appeared to be detectives.
The detectives clearly had not expected to be called into the forest that morning, because both wore dress shoes, overcoats, and suits, one with a tie and one without. It was not gear for the outdoors, and neither one seemed too inclined to venture very far from the vehicle. They lifted the blanket long enough to get a good look at Hauer, then one of them put on some gloves and picked up Hauer’s rifle. Eventually, they came back and asked Cole and Danny some questions. Soon, they left Danny alone and focused their attention on Cole.
Cole had already made up his mind that he wasn’t going to try and explain that Hauer had tried to kill them. How could Cole ever prove that? Who would ever believe him?
“I reckon I got confused,” Cole explained, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to come across as a feeble senior citizen. He hunched his shoulders under the blanket to seem more convincing. Never mind the fact that he resembled a rangy old wolf. “The light wasn’t good and I thought he was a stag. My eyes ain’t what they used to be.”
Cole told the detectives that they had gotten lost after being separated from the group of hunters. Cole kept his explanation short, which was easy for him, being naturally a man of few words.
The French gendarmes spoke English fluently. The two detectives, in addition to fluency in English, also had eyes like sharks. They seemed to see right through him, as if they had heard it all before, which they probably had. It was all an accident. One thing for certain — these men were not fools. They asked a lot of questions.
“Did he shoot himself also?”
Cole shrugged. “Maybe when he fell?”
Leaving Cole, the two detectives moved off to one side and conferred, smoking cigarettes and speaking French in low tones, glancing in Cole’s direction from time to time. One of them had taken Hauer’s ID along with Cole’s, then sat in one of the vehicles, relaying the information.
“Are they going to arrest us?” Danny whispered.
“They seem a little hung up on the fact that he’s shot in the back and in the front with two different rifles,” Cole said. “It’s a mite confusing.”