Then it was time to mount up, take his place near the tail end of the column, and kick Willie into reluctant motion. The trail wound around the side of a mountain and passed through a meadow before following an old logging road south. They were passing through some second-growth timber when Fade came out to greet them.
Tre was too far back to hear what transpired between the scout and Crow, but it wasn’t long before the order came to dismount and proceed on foot. Patch and Slick were detailed to remain behind and guard the horses. Tre envied them in a way but didn’t want to be left behind either, so he felt mixed emotions as he followed the others through a screen of trees to the top of a sloped embankment. What had been a road lay below. It was still flat, and mostly clear, but the surrounding forest was in the process of reclaiming it. Crow called them together.
“Okay, here’s the situation. Smoke is stationed three miles west of here. She’ll let us know when the caravan passes her position. In the meantime we need to drop a couple of trees across the road. That won’t stop the caravan, but it will slow it down and give us the chance we need. Brute and Sticks can handle that.
“Meanwhile, I want Snake to find a tree about a thousand yards west of here and cut it partway through. Then, once the caravan has passed, you’ll dump it onto the road. Once that job is done, fire at the tail end of their column. Got it?”
Snake nodded.
“Right, let’s get to work.”
Having been issued an ax and a couple of steel wedges, Tre followed Brute over to a couple of very tall trees. The height was good, since tall trees would be required to block the road, but they were thick as well, and Tre had no idea how to proceed.
Fortunately, Brute did. He was carrying a two-man crosscut saw, and even though he was more than two feet shorter than Tre, his arms were thicker. “Grab on, lad,” Brute said. “Let’s cut some wood.”
The blade bit into wood, and Tre soon got the hang of the push-pull process, but what seemed easy at first soon became much more difficult. Brute was tireless, but it wasn’t long before Tre’s arms and shoulders were on fire. He didn’t want to ask for a break, though, and managed to hang on until Brute called for a wedge. It was Tre’s job to drive the steel into the cut with the flat side of the ax. That kept the saw blade from binding up and allowed them to continue.
Tre felt better after the momentary rest, for a while anyway. But it wasn’t long before the pain came back. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of physical effort, Brute ordered Tre to stand clear. Shortly thereafter a cracking sound was heard. When the tree fell, it was as if it was in slow motion. There was a loud snap as the top hit the opposite embankment and the top of the trunk broke off. That was followed by a heavy thump and the crackle of breaking branches as the rest of the tree hit the ground. “One down and one to go,” Brute said cheerfully. “Good work.”
Fortunately, the second tree wasn’t quite as thick. Even so, Tre was tired by the time it made a creaking sound, fell, and landed next to the first one. Crow was there to congratulate them. “Nice job… The caravan passed Smoke ten minutes ago, so grab your rifles and take cover. Remember… pick off the leaders, spare the pack animals, and make every bullet count.”
Tre took the final instruction seriously, and for good reason. Like the rest of them, he had only twenty-five rounds of ammo, not enough for a serious firefight. Making the situation worse was the fact that only ten members of the gang were going to participate in the actual ambush. Ten against how many, Tre wondered as he sought a position in the rocks. Crow hadn’t said. Was that an oversight or a way to boost morale? Tre hoped for the first but feared the second.
He did have one thing going for him, however. All the rounds he had were preloaded into detachable magazines, which would help him to reload faster.
Once all the gang members were in position, the wait began. Each minute seemed like an hour and, worse yet, gave Tre an opportunity to think about all the things that could go wrong. So he felt something akin to relief when the caravan’s scout finally appeared. He was wearing a Stetson and a brown duster and was mounted on a big chestnut. Tre could see the stock of what he assumed was a rifle protruding from the scabbard beneath the man’s leg, but the cowboy was carrying a double-barreled shotgun muzzle up as he rode. Just the thing for dealing with an ambush. And were he to fire the weapon, it would warn those behind him as well.
None of them moved as the scout approached the trees and pulled his horse to a stop. Then, having eyed the barrier for a moment, he took a long, slow look around. The rider hadn’t seen anything suspicious up to that point, so he turned his horse to the left and began to follow the tree trunks back to their raw stumps. Tre felt a rising sense of concern. All it would take was one look at the freshly cut wood and the cowboy would know the truth.
Tre swore silently as the scout made a clucking sound and urged his mount up the slope. He would see the stumps any moment now. Then he would fire the shotgun or get on a radio, and the—
Tre’s thoughts were interrupted as Freak rose from hiding and released an arrow from her compound bow. It flew straight and true, and the cowboy jerked convulsively and let go of the shotgun in order to grab the shaft that was sticking out of his throat. Then he made a horrible gurgling sound as he fell out of the saddle and hit the ground.
The horse shied away, but Brute was there to grab the reins and lead the animal up into the trees. Meanwhile, Freak went down to finish the scout with a wicked-looking knife and Crow appeared to tow the body upslope.
It had all occurred so quickly and been carried out with such efficiency that Tre felt a sudden sense of optimism. Given how professional the group was, they stood a good chance of success.
Then the waiting began anew, but it was shorter this time. Scarcely five minutes passed before three riders appeared, followed by a horse-drawn wagon and a long column of heavily loaded mules. There were more guards too, at least ten of them, and Tre couldn’t see the far end of the caravan. That spelled trouble.
Orders were to hold their fire until Crow took the first shot. Tre wished he had a telescopic sight as he tracked one of the cowboys. Lead him, Tre told himself, and go for a body shot. He felt tense but wasn’t scared, and marveled at that.
Even though Tre was expecting the gunshot, it still came as a surprise. The lead rider fell out of the saddle, the others jerked their mounts around so they could face their attackers, and Tre squeezed the trigger. The 700 thumped his shoulder, produced a loud report, and sent a slug spinning through the air. It hit a cowboy dead center and threw him back. The horse bolted out from under him and the body hit hard. Others were firing by then, and Tre heard a cracking sound as Snake completed his cut and the third tree came crashing down. The caravan was trapped. But even as that thought registered in Tre’s mind, things took a turn for the worse.
Suddenly the cowboys produced military-style assault rifles and began to fire three-round bursts into the rocks. Tre fired, missed, and was forced to duck as bullets struck all around him. Then bad turned to worse as one of the guards began to lob grenades upslope. Tre saw a flash, followed by a loud boom, and saw Brute’s partially dismembered body fly through the air.
“Shoot that bastard!” Crow shouted, and Knife did. But even as the bomb thrower fell, two mercenaries whipped the canvas off a pintle-mounted M249 light machine gun and one of them opened fire. A hail of slugs threw up geysers of dirt all along the embankment and tore into the scrub where Snake was hiding. His bullet-ridden body fell into view and rolled downslope. “Pull back!” Crow ordered. “Into the trees!”