Lone Star 01 (13 page)

When they came to the back of the outbuilding, Daryl swiveled and his Remington spat flame. A man dropped and another cursed. Joining Daryl, Jessica fired with deadly precision, scattering the initial charge of Ryker's men, downing two more. Thundering battle broke loose in the yard, pistols bucking, lead searching.

In the dark, bloody confusion, the trio managed to run in a crouch away from the outbuilding. They streaked, ducking and zigzagging, to the edge of the yard, then cut toward the grove where their horses were waiting. They knew they had a bare minute before the approaching riders would descend and spread out hunting for them—and in that minute they'd have to be gone, or be dead.

They were merely flitting silhouettes in the field between the yard and the trees, when the riders galloped in. A quick, shouting uproar and the blood-cry of pursuit rose from the yard, and the riders turned, roweling their mounts toward the fleeing trio.

They dove into the trees, Jessica and Daryl holstering their pistols as they all grabbed reins and leaped for saddles. “‘Bye, boots,” Daryl said regretfully as they wheeled their horses away from the Block-Two-Dot. Then, breaking from the grove, he shouted, “It's a race for it! Head for the pass!”

They bent over their horses' withers, and the animals chewed up the ground. Shots snarled after them, but the swaying riders behind them couldn't aim effectively, their bullets off target, high and wild. They didn't bother to return the fire. It would be nip-and-tuck all the way to the pass.

The earth blurred under pounding hoofs. The rolling beat of pursuing horses echoed loud and thundering. The pass was an eternity away. The fusillade of avenging lead buzzed close by their heads.

The murky slopes of the hills loomed closer, and finally they could see the black maw of the pass. Jessica risked a quick glance behind her. She could plainly hear the onrushing riders, but could only make them out as a group bunched together in the hazy darkness. From her brief glimpse of their bulk, however, she estimated they were just the bunkhouse crew, and not the combined force.

At last they plunged into the narrow pass, Daryl slightly in the lead, urging his buckskin to greater speed. Short moments later, the towering walls of the pass echoed as the pursuers swept in after them along the rutted trail. The chase continued, the pass gradually rising and blending into the foothills and opening out into a draw. Beyond, a wide rock-strewn plateau extended to another maze of night-heavy ridges and canyons. Naked of trees, the plateau gleamed under moonlight, which made pearls of the stones littering their path.

The three rode hard across the flat. The only sounds were the deep panting of the horses, and their drumming strides against the rocky soil—and the faint rataplan of hoofbeats coming after them.

“Ryker's boys still have us in sight,” Jessica said loudly.

“Not for long,” Daryl shouted back. “They're going to wind up chasing their tails all night, when I get done confusing them. Nobody ‘cept my dad knows these hills better'n I do.”

Reaching the edge of the plateau, Daryl began skirting a twisted ravine, gesturing toward a side trail some distance ahead. Jessica and Ki veered to the left, following him as he swung onto a barely visible track at a dead run. A canyon embraced them, shrinking to a sinuous gorge of solid stone that reverberated with their passage.

Daryl slowed his buckskin and motioned for Jessica and Ki to do the same. Their huffing bays were glad to oblige. They moved on along the granite floor, their easy lope giving off very little noise that could be traced. Behind, the sounds of galloping horses echoed off the rock as the Block-Two-Dot crew entered the canyon.

“Haven't lost them yet,” Ki said, glancing back.

“We will,” Daryl replied confidently. “Thing is, I don't want them to be able to hear when and where we cut off. It's up a ways—”

“Wait,” Jessica interrupted. “Listen.”

The two men tensed, straining to catch what she was hearing. Then, from ahead, faint at first, but growing swiftly, rose a deep, earth-trembling roar. Still riding at a loping pace, they became increasingly alarmed the farther they went along the snaky gorge. But they couldn't stop or go back, because of the pursuing riders; they couldn't turn aside, because of the steep slopes and flanking boulders on both edges; they could only continue heading toward the rolling, pounding, fast-approaching tumult.

A few rags of clouds shuttled across high stars, blown by a rush of wind from the north. They caught the moon, released it again; and as the pale light trickled back into the gorge, the trio rounded a sharp bend and faced a looming herd of cattle.

Hastily they reined in, aghast at the sight of this brown wall bearing down on them heads tossing, eyes rolling, horns clacking. It was not a big herd, but it didn't need to be, squeezed as it was within the narrow gully. It was being driven at a rapid clip by punchers on horseback outlined against the starry sky, their prodding shouts lifting above the drubbing beat of hoofs. A little in front trotted one curly-horned, wall-eyed steer that seemed to be the leader.

“I know that brute!” Daryl yelped. “Them're my cows!”

“You can have them!” Ki retorted. “Back! Quick!”

His voice was drowned in the deafening roar, but Jessica and Daryl saw him wheel and start heading back the way they'd come. They wrenched their horses around to follow, Daryl's buckskin kicking and plunging, Jessica's bay dancing, ears laid back and eyes wild.

Fear was in the air, fear of this mass of flesh closing inexorably, no more to be halted than a tornado. To yell and wave would be futile; to shoot would be like damming a flood with loose rocks, and could easily result in panic, spooking the steers into stampeding in the only direction they could go—straight ahead.

The dark trail blurred under their horses, their pace too swift for talk, and none was needed. Each could sense the tension and dread in the others, as they galloped around another tight curve, and surged directly toward the oncoming Block-Two-Dot gunhands.

The crew were caught by surprise, but not so much that they didn't react. Predictably, they spurred their horses on, whooping with certain victory, their pistols spurting flame and lead. At such dead-on range, Jessica, Ki and Daryl should have been riddled, but in firing from speeding horses into night shadows, the crew's aim proved inaccurate. Bullets ricocheted off the boulders and whistled past their bodies uncomfortably close, one searing along Daryl's ribs in a long gash. But they continued their suicidal charge, figuring their only chance was to somehow break through the line of gunmen and return to the plateau.

And then the herd came lumbering around the curve.

The gorge abruptly erupted in howling, rattling confusion, the Block-Two-Dot crew shouting in shock and fear, trying to check their horses and spin them about. Some went down as their horses slipped and fell on the shale. Others windmilled arms and hats in a vain attempt to stop the front. Still others, the really stupid ones, turned their fire from the three riders to the crowding steers beyond.

The cattle spooked. Lowing and snorting, they began picking up speed, and as one would stumble or drop with a bullet, the other would leap the barrier and stream on even faster. More gunfire peppered the advancing herd as the crew splintered frenziedly, a few retreating, most of them still attempting to stave off the stampede.

A panic-triggered slug caught Ki's horse in its breastbone. The bay reared with the impact, causing Ki to lurch half out of his saddle, his balance lost. Frantically he grabbed for the saddlehorn, missing it, and started falling headfirst as the horse folded beneath him.

He wriggled clear. Jolting agony jarred through him as he struck the ground, the bay tumbling on its side, its hooves slashing close to his face.

“Ki!” Jessica pivoted her horse toward him, heedless of the oncoming stampede. The curly-horned leader dashed bellowing past her, other steers thronging right behind, and it was almost more than Jessica could do to maneuver her horse out of their path. Daryl, spotting her, swung his buckskin in an arc to intercept her, as the rush of steers surged perilously around him in an increasing tide.

They saw Ki rise, then begin bobbing and weaving in a desperate effort to reach the boulders at the nearest side of the trail. “Leave me!” they heard him cry as he dove among the swelling torrent of hoofs and horns. “Save yourselves—or we'll all die!”

Jessica ignored his plea and made a last convulsive try, struggling against the flow of crazed cattle to save him. But that shoving melee flung her back as easily as a baby. She reeled, tilting far off balance, and the flinty tip of a longhorn snagged her jacket, tearing through it and her shirt, gouging a burning furrow diagonally across her side and back. She would have lost control, had not Daryl swerved alongside and grabbed the cheekstrap of her horse's bridle, pulling the animal around in line with the maddened herd.

“No!” Eyes wide, face chalky white, Jessica fought to stop him. “Let me go, Daryl, we can't leave Ki—”

“Dammit, we have no choice!”

They were swept along shoulder to shoulder with the steers, shoulder to shoulder with sudden death, but at least they were going in the right direction. The Block-Two-Dot crew was not. Men fell, horses tripped, and the stampede crushed them in its relentless pressure, trampling and slashing them under sharp hooves. The agonized cries of the injured and dying were faint in the overwhelming, thunderous maelstrom.

And the avalanche of beef rolled implacably on toward the plateau, moonlight glinting on tossing backs and piercing horns. Carried along in the hemming current, Jessie and Daryl could hear the bellowing of frightened animals and the pounding of hooves drumming the stony trail. This was no place for a poor rider, or for a coward.

The gorge widened into the short stretch of canyon, and from the canyon the herd funneled out, spreading across the plateau. Daryl angled for a narrow crevice at one side of the canyon mouth, Jessica followed, slumped in her saddle. The herd kept plummeting past in a swirl of dust and horns and hooves, not a dozen yards from the spot where they hid.

Eventually the drag drained through, the rustlers behind them yelling and cursing as they tried to stem the runaway, paying no attention to the narrow crevice. Watching them, Daryl commented disgustedly, “They'll never turn them. By morning, my cows will be scattered from hell to breakfast out there in the brakes.”

“We've got to go back,” Jessica said dully.

“We can't.”

“We can't leave Ki!”

“We have to.” Daryl turned, leaning across to wrap a comforting arm around her, being careful not to press her bleeding wound. “Listen, Jessie, I know how you feel, but you've got to understand. Maybe half the gang chasing us wasn't skinned or stomped, and they're still back there, sorer than kerosened snakes. We couldn't go looking for Ki, or stop to help him if we found him.”

“But he could be hurt, or... dead.”

“If he's dead, he's dead, and getting ourselves shot won't make him alive. If he's hurt, he's got a better chance of living by lying low, staying put, instead of us drawing attention to him.”

“Tomorrow ...”

“Sure, Jessie, tomorrow. We'll come back for him tomorrow, but right now, tonight, it's more important to take care of you.”

Chapter 9

They rode in silence through the murky hills, hearing the bawling of cattle and the shouting of rustlers receding behind them.

Jessica hunched despondently in the saddle. Daryl was beside her and a bit ahead, leading the way back to the Spraddled M. As they dipped down across a fingerling valley, he noticed on the right a craggy outcropping. Bluestem grass appeared to be growing in foot-high tufts there, an indication of a spring or brook. He pulled alongside Jessica, gesturing, and angled toward the boulders. She headed after him, the horses speeding up as they smelled water.

The outcropping proved to encircle a small patch of bottom, with a thin trickle of water oozing from the ground. A few small animals fled as they approached, but otherwise the area seemed deserted. They dismounted, stiff and exhausted, and knelt in the grass, cupping their hands to drink. The horses lapped thirstily.

“Well, we lost them this time,” Jessica said with irony.

“We better have. The horses are too tired for any more fancy prancing. We should give them a short breather.”

She nodded wearily. “No argument from me.”

Leaving the saddles on, they picketed the horses by the water and went to the outcropping, where the grass was dryer. Jessica sucked in her breath, grimacing from pain, as she slowly sat down. Frowning, Daryl hunkered beside her and tentatively touched her back.