At once, Slaughter heard footsteps crunching on gravel. He tensed as the footsteps came closer. Then the footsteps paused on the other side of the equipment shed.
Slaughter frowned. He glanced at Dunlap, then out toward the helicopter. When the footsteps went back toward where they had begun, Slaughter didn't understand. Who was here? A patrolman?
"So this is where you are."
Unnerved, Slaughter swung to face the voice. He found himself staring at Lucas.
"Christ, don't sneak up on me," Slaughter told him.
"He's not here yet?"
"Who?"
"The pilot."
"No, we're waiting. How'd you find us?"
"Process of elimination. Yesterday you talked about a helicopter that the state police were using. I drove around until I found it."
"Where'd you get a car?"
"A truck. It was my father's. Look, I'm going up there with you."
Slaughter noticed the rifle Lucas held.
"What's happened?"
Lucas didn't answer.
"Some tiling with your father?"
Lucas gazed out toward the helicopter. Then he looked at Slaughter.
"They killed him." Lucas squinted. "He was evidently hunting them. He had some cattle staked out for bait, and he was going out at night to shoot from a tree. He must have killed a lot of them. There was so much blood."
"You found the bodies?"
"Only his. As much as I could recognize when they were finished with him." Lucas wiped his mouth. "They disemboweled him for a start. They-"
"You don't have to talk about it."
"But I want to. Then they ripped his arms and legs off." Lucas spoke without expression. "When I got to the ranch, I didn't find my father. But I smelled this stench that drifted toward me from the foothills. Roasted meat and burning hair. I drove my father's truck out. There was something burning, all right. I could see the flames, mostly from range grass when I got there, and I saw the mangled cattle and the blood, and then I found my father in a half a dozen places. From the empty cartridges around the tree, I'm sure he must have killed a lot of them. Even drunk, he never failed to hit a target. They must have taken the bodies with them. As I said, I'm going with you."
"But you didn't even like him."
"I don't care. I owe him. I took two years from his life, and if I hadn't, maybe everything would somehow have been different."
"I don't know what good you'll be up there." '
"I'll be your eyes behind you. Right now you need all the. friends you can find."
Lucas said the right thing, that was certain. Slaughter stared at him and nodded. "If the pilot ever comes."
Then Slaughter heard other footsteps crunching on gravel. No, a double set of them, and he motioned for Lucas and Dunlap to crouch with him beside the oil drums next to the shed.
The footsteps crunched past the opposite side of the shed and then moved into the open. With the mist almost gone, Slaughter glimpsed two men who crossed to reach the helicopter. One man rubbed his hands together and blew on them. The other unhooked the helicopter's mooring cables.
Slaughter straightened, walking toward them, Lucas and Dunlap following. "You've got some passengers," he told the two men, who swung in surprise.
Slaughter recognized the pilot. The other man he didn't know, but they were rigid, and he wondered if they'd heard about his jail break.
"Who's that? Slaughter? Hell, you scared me."
"We'll be going with you in the chopper."
"There's not enough room."
"Then we'll leave this other guy behind."
"And what about the rest of you?"
"They're coming with me."
"Sorry. I can't do that. One man with me isn't any problem. I took two men with me yesterday." The pilot shook his head. 'Three men with me, and I guarantee we'd never make it. This thing wasn't built for that much weight."
"We'll have to try it anyhow," Slaughter said.
"That's impossible."
Slaughter pointed toward the western mountains. "You don't understand the trouble up there."
"Maybe. But there'll be even more trouble if we all try to go up in this thing."
"We'll have to chance it."
"Without me to fly you. Choose less men or none of us gets off the ground."
They scowled at each other. Slaughter turned toward Lucas and Dunlap. Which man could he choose? He really needed both of them, and more important, neither of them would agree to be left behind.
"I can't do that," he said, and his first mistake had been to think that they knew nothing about how he'd broken out of jail, his second had been to turn toward Lucas and Dunlap. Because suddenly he felt the pilot's arms around him, grabbing for the rifle. At the same time, Lucas was struggling with the pilot's companion. Dunlap faltered, blinking.
"Well, if you boys planned to have a dance, I would have bought some tickets," someone said, and everybody stopped then, pivoting toward the shed as a policeman stepped into view. He had his handgun drawn, and Slaughter didn't know if this was help or more trouble as he recognized Hammel, the new man on the force whom he'd disciplined when they had looked at Clifford's body on Friday.
"Now then, everybody step clear of each other. Keep those rifles down."
They didn't move.
"I mean it." Hammel walked sternly forward, and they parted.
"You two." Hammel pointed toward the pilot and his friend. "Step over to the left there. Don't you know enough to stay away from men holding rifles? In particular our fine police chief here. He might get angry and shoot your toe off. My God," Hammel asked the pilot, "what did you think you'd accomplish by trying to capture Slaughter? Did you think the town would make you a hero?"
"I don't care about his jail break. I don't even know why he was arrested. I just don't intend to go up with three other men in that helicopter."
"Well, you're honest. That's a credit." Hammel smiled and waved his handgun. "Okay, clear out. You're no use to us."
"But-"
"Hey, I'm giving you a break. Clear out. Don't try my patience."
Slowly they moved toward the shed, and then they started running.
"'No use to 'us' you told him?" Slaughter asked.
"That's right. Let's keep this in the family. When Rettig told me what had happened, we sat down to figure "where you might turn up."
"I must be obvious as hell."
"Well, a few of us aren't quite as stupid as you think we are."
"You call it smart to chase off my pilot?"
"We don't need him. Rettig told me to keep a watch on you, to use my judgment."
"And your judgment-"
"-says I'm going with you. Do you remember when we found Clifford's body? I said something about what had killed him being obvious. You called me on that. Oh, not much. Enough, though. Hell, you made me feel like an idiot. And it turned out you were right. So, fine. But now it's my turn. I can do a few things you'd give anything to do. I'm going to fly your helicopter for you."
Slaughter thought back to the file he kept on every man.
"I see that it's coming back to you," Hammel said. "I spent three years in the Air Force. My specialty was choppers. And I was damned good. Just this once you're going to shut your mouth and watch somebody else who's good at what he does, and when I'm finished, you had damned well better step up, face me straight on, and say, 'Thank you.'"
"More than that, I'll say I'm sorry for the other day."
"It's too late for that, Slaughter. Shove your friends inside. Let's get this party started."
Slaughter touched his beard stubble. "There's only one thing."
"What is it?"
"If we crash, I'll say we should have kept that other guy to fly us."
Hammel started laughing.
THREE
"You can see that something happened here." Parsons and his group looked at the barricade.
"The question, though, is what."
There weren't any bodies, but they saw the blood, the state police hats, the ripped discarded knapsacks, the empty bullet casings.
"So there really was a fight up here. That wasn't thunder we heard."