Owen and Arch looked at each other quickly and frowned. “I think we'd better move back in the timber,” Owen said. “If Ike Brunner is as smart as he's supposed to be, he'll figure you'll come back to this place and have it watched.”
“I was here before,” Dunc said, “and nothin'-happened. The Tanis place is on the other side of the slope, but they can't see us from here.”
“Is Tanis a member of the gang?”
Dunc nodded, and Arch Deland was already headed back toward the horses at an awkward trot. “What's the matter?” the boy asked, vaguely disturbed.
Then, before Owen could answer, they heard something over to the right, in a heavy growth of scrub oak and pine. Owen was running almost instantly toward a rock outcropping to his left, calling to the old deputy:
“Arch, get the horses back in the timber!”
Before the words were out, a rifle spoke sharply in the afternoon, and one of the horses reared and screamed. Owen swore softly, knowing that the boy had led them blindly into a trap. “Arch!” he yelled again, and then the rifle spoke for the second time and a bullet screamed past Owen's head and went ripping into the woods.
Arch Deland hit the ground and rolled into some brush. Owen saw him get up and head toward the horses, but the sickness in his stomach told him that the horses were gone. He could hear them crashing through the timber in panic.
Owen hit the ground and scrambled toward the outcropping. Dunc Lester had bolted toward the edge of the clearing and now had shelter in the woods.
Suddenly the hills were quiet, except for the echoes of rifle fire resounding down through the draws and valleys. Owen had drawn his revolver, but there was nothing now to shoot at. He heard the horses crashing down the sheer rock-strewn slope behind them, but there was no time to worry about that now. Crouching, Owen shoved himself away from the rock and headed for the woods, and this time he saw the curl of gun smoke rise up near the far end of the ridge.
Another rifle exploded, much nearer this time. Arch Deland had seen the smoke too and was going to work with his carbine. Deland fired once, twice, three times, and the lead slugs ripped noisily into the scrub-oak thicket. Then, once more, all was silent.
Owen had reached the woods by this time and could see the deputy resting his carbine across the rump of his dead horse.
Long, tense minutes passed and the silence held. Then they all heard the sound of a horse far below, and Owen came to his feet and ran to the far end of the ridge. Dunc Lester came up, and finally Arch Deland, and the three of them watched helplessly as the horsemen disappeared into the timber below.
Owen glanced at the boy. “Did you know him?”
The muscles of the youth's throat drew tight in anger and he balled his hard fists as though to hit someone. “Yes. It was Gabe Tanis.”
“Your neighbor?”
“For almost as long as I can remember.”
Arch Deland sighed wearily. “I guess that doesn't mean much when you're a member of the gang.” He glanced back across the clearing at his dead horse, and smiled bitterly. “It's goin' to be a long walk wherever we go.”
Thoughtfully Owen reloaded from his cartridge belt.
“Maybe Ike will loan us some horses,” the deputy said wryly.
Dunc Lester glanced hard at the two men. “Maybe Ike Brunner won't have anything to say about it. Gabe's leavin' a pretty wide trace through the woods, and my guess is it'll lead us right to the gang headquarters.”
Owen had been thinking the same thing, and he had also been wondering how far away it was and how long it would take Ike to bring enough men to wipe them out. A little nervous ripple went up his back like a cold finger. He was not frightened, but he was acutely aware of the odds against them.
Weeds will take my crops in a matter of days, he thought, and here I am afoot on some damn hilltop when I ought to be home! And a longing for Elizabeth and the children rose up in his throat and almost choked him.
“I guess it's up to you, Owen,” Arch Deland said. “What do we do now?”
“First we'll see what we've got left to work with.”
They went back to the fallen animal and counted out cartridges that Deland had brought along. There were two boxes of .45's that would fit Owen's and Deland's revolvers, and a box of 30-30's for Arch's carbine, but no ammunition for Dunc Lester's shotgun or ancient .44.
“Well,” Arch said, “there's a thousand-to-one chance that we might be able to round up our horses.”
But this was not to be the day for miracles. They climbed laboriously down to the bottom of the sheer incline and at last found their pack animal, which had broken its neck in a fall. But the frightened saddle animals were probably still running, and the men had no time to look for them.
“At least,” Deland said, “we've got a sizable stock of ammunition.”
Together they tore into the bulky pack and scattered their store over the ground. Owen went through it quickly but carefully, sorting out what they needed most and discarding all the rest. At last he had a pile of ammunition, blankets, jerked beef, and hardtack. The slab of bacon, canned goods, corn meal, and cooking utensils had to be left behind.
They worked fast now, for there was no way of knowing how far away Ike Brunner had moved his new hideout. They divided the necessary supplies into three equal piles, according to weight, then ripped the tarp into three squares and made their own individual packs. Arch Deland grunted as he slipped his arms through the rope loops and hoisted his bundle to his shoulders.
Owen looked sharply at the old deputy. “If that's too heavy, Arch, we'd better split the supplies again.” But Deland grinned. “I've toted a lot heavier than this in my time.”
They inspected the ground one last time to make sure they had forgotten nothing, then Owen nodded and the three of them humped forward under the weight of their packs and started up the rocky slope.
The June sun seemed unbelievably hot as they continued their long climb. Arch Deland was already blowing hard, and Owen wondered uneasily if he had made a mistake in not making a search for the horses. They could have found them, in time.
But time was important, and he knew that he had done the right thing. Still, he did not like the high, hot color of Deland's face as the old deputy stumbled after them on that trackless slope. At last they reached a point where they could see the valley to the east and the point where Gabe Tanis had entered the woods.
Once they reached the woods, they would have some small measure of protection, but here on the hillside they were glaring targets for a long-range rifle. Owen knew they ought to keep pushing hard until they reached the trees, but he could hear Arch Deland's hoarse breathing and was worried.
At last Owen lifted his hand. “We'll take a minute here and rest.”
Dunc Lester scowled. “I reckon that won't be very smart.”
Owen shot him one blinding glance and the boy understood. Not so strangely, Dunc had taken a liking to this thin scarecrow of an old man who claimed to be a former U.S. marshal, like Owen Toller. He dropped his pack and helped Deland off with his. “How do you feel?” he asked.