the Tall Stranger (1982) (16 page)

Mort's hate-filled face twisted. "Go to the devil!" he gasped hoarsely. "You go--to the devil!" He coughed, spitting blood. "Go to the devil!" he said again. Suddenly his mouth opened wide and he seemed gasping wildly for breath that he couldn't get; then he fell forward on his face, his fingers digging into the grass as blood stained the mossy earth beneath him.

Rock walked back to the horse and stood there, gripping the saddlehorn. He felt weak and sick, yet he didn't believe he had been hit hard. There was a dampness on his side, yet when he pulled off his shirt, he saw that only the skin was cut in a shallow groove along his side above the hip bone.

Digging stuff from his saddlebags, he patched the wound as well as he could. It was only then he thought of his leg. There was nothing wrong with it, and then he saw the wrenched spur. The bullet had struck his spur, twisting and jerking his leg, but doing no harm.

Carefully, he reloaded his guns. Then he called loudly. There was no response. He called again, and there was no answering sound. Slowly, Rock began to circle, studying the ground. Harper had moved carefully through the grass, and had left little trail. Rock returned for his horse, and mounting, began to ride in slow circles.

Somewhere, Mort would have his horses, and the girl would not be far from them. From time to time he called.

Two hours passed. At times, he swung down and walked, leading the stallion. He worked his way through every grove, examined every boulder patch and clump of brush.

Bees hummed in the still, warm air. He walked on, his side smarting viciously, his feet heavy with walking in the high-heeled boots. Suddenly, sharply, the stallion's head came up and he whinnied. Almost instantly, there was an answering call. Then Rock Bannon saw a horse, and swinging into the saddle he loped across the narrow glade toward the boulders.

The horse was there, and almost at once he saw Sharon. She was tied to the top of a boulder, out of sight from below except for a toe of her boot. He scrambled up and released her, then unfastened the handkerchief with which she had been gagged.

"Oh, Rock!" Her arms went about him, and for a long moment they sat there, and he held her close. After a long time she looked up. "When I heard your horse, I tried so hard to cry out that I almost strangled. Then when my mare whinnied, I knew you'd find us."

She came to with a start as he helped her down. "Rock! Where's Mort? He meant to kill you."

"He was born to fail," Rock said simply. "He was just a man who had big plans, but couldn't win out with anything. At the wrong time he was too filled with hate to even accomplish a satisfactory killin'."

Briefly, as she bathed her face and hands, he told her of what had happened at Poplar. "Your folks will all be back in their homes by now," he said. "You know, in some ways, Lamport was one of the best of the lot. He was a fighter--a regular bull. I hit him once with everything I had, every bit of strength and power and drive in me, and he only grunted."

They sat there in the grass, liking the shade of the white-trunked aspens.

"Dud and Mary are getting married, Rock," Sharon said suddenly.

He reddened slowly under the tan and tugged at a handful of grass. "Reckon," he said slowly, "that'll be two pairs of us!"

Sharon laughed gaily and turned. "Why, Rock! Are you asking me to marry you?"

"Nope," he said, grinning broadly. "I'm tellin' you! This here's one marriage that's goin' to start off right."

The steel-dust stallion stamped his hoofs restlessly. Things were being altogether too quiet. He wasn't used to it.