“It can’t stop, Hans. We have no choice but to hunt those people down and be rid of them.”
“My God, Andrea! Listen to you. You sound like some bloodthirsty crazed person. How many deaths do you want? How much blood on our hands?”
“Have you lost your stomach for the hunt, Hans?” Her words were cold and borderline contemptuous.
“This isn’t a hunt. What this is... I don’t know what it is. But I do know that it is out of control.”
“Hans,” she said, touching his arm. “Listen to me. This is the American west. Not New York City. Despite our having diplomatic papers, do you think the western men out here—who tamed this country—would let us leave without punishment? Think about that. This is the wild west, Hans. And it’s still wild. Justice comes down very hard and fast out here. We wouldn’t get ten miles before some vigilante group would have us hanged. And they do hang women out here, Hans.”
Hans clenched his hands into fists. He took several deep breaths. “All right, Andrea. All right. You do make a presentable case. Let’s just get this over with and get out of this dreadful place.”
Hans went back to his horse and rode up to the trail to be alone. The sight of those disgusting birds tearing at dead human flesh was nauseating. He lifted his hands. They were trembling.
Von Hausen came to Andrea’s side.
“He’ll stay,” she told him. “But this better end quickly, Frederick.”
“He’s that close to breaking?”
“He’s very close, Frederick.”
“I know you two care deeply for each other, Andrea—since childhood—but I will not let one man put all of us in prison. Do you understand that?”
“Perfectly. And I feel the same way about it.”
“Good. We are of like mind.”
Mountains loomed in front of them, miles away through rugged terrain. Smoke halted the parade north at a spring. While the surveyors and scientists were watering their horses and taking this time to rest from the saddle, Smoke waved Walt and Angel to him.
“We’re not going to make it like this, boys. These folks are just not able to push it any harder. Von Hausen’s party has got to be slowed up some. Walt, you and Angel stay with these folks ...”
Walt opened his mouth to protest and Smoke waved him silent. “If von Hausen caught up with them, they wouldn’t stand a chance. None of them have ever been in a gunfight. Probably a full third of them couldn’t take a human life. That’s not a short-coming on their part; they just weren’t raised out here and really don’t understand the pickle they’re in or the men they’re up against. With you two along, they stand a chance.”
“And you, Smoke?” Angel asked.
“I’m going to buy you people some time.”
“Where?” Walt asked.
“West of here at the creek. Walt, get these people out of this country and over to the trail. It’ll take you a few hours, but you’ll more than make up for it once there.”
The old gunfighter nodded his agreement. “Yeah, I been thinkin’ on that myself.”
“Rest them up and get gone. When you get to the headquarters, get with that small garrison of troops left and either make a stand or get the hell out of the park. That’s up to you folks. But get word out.”
The men shook hands. “Luck to you, boy,” Walt told Smoke. “You damn shore got a passel of bad ’uns comin’ up quick.”
“Vaya con dios,” Angel said, then walked to his horse.
Smoke stood as the men and women saddled up. Gilbert looked down at Smoke, standing in dirty, blood- splattered clothing, unshaven and in need of a hair cut. He was an awesome-looking figure of a man. “You are a very brave man, Smoke Jensen, and I speak for this entire group.”
“Yes,” Blanche said. “I know the President personally, Smoke. I shall see that you get a medal for this.”
“That’s good,” Smoke told her. “But for now, just get any civilians out of this park. If you don’t, there’s going to be a blood-bath. I’m only buying you people a few hours; so don’t waste any of it. Get out of here.”
Charles Knudson saluted him and lifted the reins. The others did the same. Two minutes later, Smoke was alone. That was the way he liked it. Alone with and a part of the high lonesome.
He knew he didn’t stand a prayer of stopping the whole group. Close as he could figure it, there was still about twenty or so coming up hard behind him. Maybe none of those he’d sent on before him would make it. But he had to try.
“Von Hausen,” he muttered to the gentle breeze blowing over the land. “I’ve hated mighty few things in my life. But I definitely hate you.”
He looked at the sky. Clear and blue and cloudless. High above him, an eagle soared on the winds, gliding gracefully toward the north. He remembered years back, after his first wife, Nicole, and their baby son had been murdered. He’d started to Idaho, to avenge them, and he’d seen an eagle, seeming to guide him. He smiled. Eagles lived a long time; might be the same one. He liked to think so.
He gathered up his reins, then paused, wondering what month it was. Summer, for sure, and Smoke was almighty weary of this hunt. With a sigh, he swung into the saddle and made his way after those who’d gone ahead of him, mixing his tracks in with theirs. Once, resting in the saddle on the crest of a hill, he could make out mounted figures, far below and behind him. They were closing in fast.
He knew he would never make the creek. Von Hausen and group were too close. He pushed on, his eyes constantly searching for a good ambush spot. He finally said to hell with it and swung down in a copse of trees on a rise that faced a meadow. The back of the hill touched a flat that offered him an escape route. He couldn’t stay here any length of time, for he couldn’t watch three sides for very long. But he might be able to empty a saddle or two and buy Walt and his bunch an hour or so.
