“Just a minute,” Ike said. “Tell the boys they've got nothin' to worry about. There are just two of them down there and we've got them all to ourselves. We'll take our time; I don't want anybody else to get hurt.”
As Gabe got the gang together, Ike studied the small green valley with satisfaction. The gang could cover the house from either end of the draw; with torches they could burn the cabin down and force Dunc and the Reunion marshal into the open. It would be like shooting rabbits in a trap.
For a moment Ike turned his attention on the gang— what was left of it. It was less than half the size it had been once. From Ike's cold face, few of the men could guess at the storm that raged inside him. From the day he had looked upon Cal's dead face, anger had boiled within him, ready to explode. Common sense had warned him that he shouldn't have burned Manley Cooper out, but rage had made him half crazy. It had to have an outlet, and Manley Cooper had been close at hand.
Now he had his rage under control, but not even Ike Brunner could tell when it would get out of hand. He could think of nothing but Cal. He had no plans for future raids, the gang was becoming hard to handle, and he had turned some of the hill people against him—and yet he could think of nothing but Cal, and of the sweet taste of revenge which would come only when he killed Dunc Lester with his own hands.
And this, he thought with grim pleasure, is the day. Maybe then, with Lester dead, he would think clearly again and pull the gang together.
By this time Gabe Tanis had split the men into groups of seven. One rode with Gabe and Jed Hefflin to the bottom of the slope and started the long swing to the east. The others, silent and sober, reined in around Ike.
“We'll circle this hill to the west,” Ike told them, “and come into the valley at the near end of the draw. The Coopers are gone. Are there any questions?”
There were no questions.
“All right,” Ike said coldly. “There's a Reunion marshal down there, but he won't amount to much. If we kill this one, it'll likely be the last county law dog we'll see up here.” He paused, then added, “Dunc Lester's something else again! He killed a preacher; don't forget that. And he killed my brother, and he turned against his own people. I want him dead!”
The men stirred uneasily but made no comment. Ike pulled his paint around and the others fell into line behind him.
Strangely, it did not often occur to Ike that he was a rich man, that in various caves he had hidden enough money and loot to keep him in fine style for the rest of his life. He had wanted money once, he had even made plans to quit the gang and head for California or Mexico, where nobody knew him.
But, in these hills, he had found something that pleased him more than money. He had come to know power. He had gradually forgotten the plan for retirement; his ambition was only beginning to grow. Before I'm through, he thought, they'll forget that Bill Doolin ever lived! Or the Daltons! Or the Jameses!
Suddenly Ike came erect in his saddle, jarred out of his thoughts. Far below he saw the tiny figures of Toller and Dunc Lester racing across the clearing to the west. The gang leader blinked, unable to believe that the two men were deserting their log fortress. His entire plan was based on the assumption that they would hole up in the cabin and try to fight it out.
Now the plan amounted to nothing. Still, Ike was not worried, merely puzzled. Holding up the march, Ike put his sturdy paint up a hard slope to higher ground, and then he began to understand.
Silently he regarded the boulder-strewn hill with its dangerous footing and impassable shelves, and his estimate of the Reunion marshal began to grow. Ike came up in his stirrups and yelled to one of his men.
“Light out for the east and try to head off Gabe Tanis. Tell him to get his men over here!” He pointed toward the rock-capped hill to the west. “The rest of you follow me!”
They flogged their horses down the sheer slope, crashing through brush and timber in the draws and gullies. In the effort to cut off the escape, they had to completely encircle the stone-capped hill, and by the time they reached the eastern slope it was too late.
Lester and the marshal had already cleared the first jagged outcropping, and past that point there was no chance at all of using horses. Ike spilled from the saddle and raced on foot past the end of the shelf. He caught a glimpse of the marshal's broad back as the man clawed his way up toward the next outcropping, but by the time Ike had knelt to fire, the back had disappeared.
The prospect of a tougher fight did not displease Ike Brunner, but he knew that his men might not like it so well. He fired once futilely with his Winchester, and heard the ricocheting bullet scream harmlessly in the brilliant afternoon. Frantically he waved his men over toward the far end of the ledge, but by the time they got there the two had advanced to the stone shelf above.
The gang leader wiped his face and cursed. They would have to go up that hill after them; there was no other way. Wade Jeffers, a kid about Dunc Lester's age, yelled, “You got 'em spotted, Ike?”
“They're makin' for the top. Take four men around to the other side and see they don't come down on top of you.” Then he thought of something and jogged over to his men. “Wait a minute. We'll split the gang into three parts, cover the hill on three sides. There are only two of them, so they won't be able to cover three points at once.”
Jeffers frowned. “We're goin' up that hill after them?”
“How else would you get them down?”
The boy regarded the hill seriously and it was clear that he didn't like the idea. “It'll be dangerous. We'll be lookin' right into the barrels of their guns.”
Ike Brunner's voice was icy. “When you joined this bunch,” he said, “I never told you it was goin' to be easy. The two men on that hill have got to be killed or we're done for. Now,” and he fixed his gaze on Wade Jeffers alone, “if any man has any objections to the way I run this gang, I guess he'd better speak up.”
Jeffers swallowed hard. “I didn't mean that, Ike.”
“It's lucky you didn't. Now take four men and get on the other side of the hill. I'll send more when Gabe gets here.”
The small rebellion was completely crushed. The men shuffled uneasily; if they had to choose between the hill and Ike's fury, they'd take the hill. When Jeffers turned to carry out his leader's orders, Ike said, “Three fast rifle shots will be the signal to start climbing, and we'renot stoppin' till we get to the top, understand?”
They understood.
After Wade Jeffers had taken his men to the far side, Ike mounted his spotted pony and rode back about a hundred yards until he could scan the rocky slope from top to bottom. There was not much timber here, except for small stands of scrubby pine and blackjack near the base. The marshal and Dunc Lester were not to be seen, and Ike guessed that they had already reached the top. Well, he thought with grim satisfaction, that's as far as they'll ever get.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Gabe Tanis was leading the other half of the gang over the eastern crest and was headed toward the valley. Ike nudged the paint and rode around to the south, then to the north, leisurely searching out the best and most protected routes to the top. Well out of carbine range, he knew that he was in no danger.