''Fraid not.'
Frank struck a match and lit the fuse. 'Roll it, Jer!'
Jerry was only too happy to start the wheel rolling. He breathed a sigh of relief when the wheel was on the road. The heavy wheel bounced and wobbled down the gently sloping road, the fuse sputtering and sparking as it rolled.
'Get the hell out of here!' an outlaw yelled. 'That's dynamite comin' our way.'
'Shoot the wheel and stop it!' another gang member shouted.
'You shoot the goddamn thing, Luke. I'm outta here.'
For a few seconds it looked as though the wheel was going to topple over before it reached the blockade. Then it straightened up and picked up speed, rolling true.
At the blockade, outlaws were scrambling to get clear. They were running and cussing and slipping and sliding.
The wheel ran into a wagon and lodged under the wagon bed for a few seconds before exploding. It went off with a fury, sending bits and pieces of the wagon flying in all directions. The explosion lifted the second wagon up and over the edge of the road. The chain that had been stretched across the road was blown loose, and fell to the road. A huge dust cloud covered and obscured the area where the blockade had been. When the dust settled, the road was clear.
Several of the outlaws had not gotten clear: there were three men sprawled unconscious on the road. One of them was clearly dead, his neck twisted at an impossible angle. He had been picked up by the concussion and thrown against the cliff.
'Jesus!' Jerry said, his voice hushed. 'How many sticks did you lash together, Frank?'
'Twelve.'
Jerry cut his eyes to Frank and shook his head in awe. 'Warn me next time, will you?'
'I hope there won't be a next time,' Frank replied.
'It ain't over, Frank!' the shout came from high above the road. 'You son of a bitch!'
'Vic Vanbergen,' Frank said. 'I recognize the voice.'
'We'll meet again, you sorry son!' Vic yelled. 'You can count on that.'
'And that goes double in spades for me, Morgan!'
'Ned Pine,' Frank said. 'It's over here, Jer. They're making their brags and threats now.'
'Watch your ass in town, Morgan,' Vic yelled. 'It ain't over by a long shot.'
'He's tellin' you they've got men in town waitin' for you, Frank,' Jerry said.
'Sure,' Frank said calmly. 'Big Bob Mallory will be back, and Kid Moran. Several others, I'm sure.'
The lawmen waited on the road for several minutes more, but there was no more yelling from the top of the ridge. The Vanbergen and Pine gangs had pulled out.
Frank and Jerry made their way cautiously down to the now wrecked blockade. Two of the outlaws who had not cleared the blast were dead, one with a clearly broken neck, the other with a massive head wound caused by the fallen debris. The others were gone.
'I'll hook up the team,' Jerry said. 'Bring the wagon down and we'll tote the dead back.' He smiled. 'Might be a reward on them.'
'You're learning. I'll start clearing away some of this junk.'
'Frank?'
'Yes?'
'Pine and Vanbergen knew they couldn't keep this road closed. Why did they even try?'
'I think they were counting on us being dead. Our coming out alive put a kink in their plans.'
'You're really gonna have to watch your back careful in town, Frank.'
'I've been doing that for many years. It's as automatic for me as breathing. Come on, let's get these bodies loaded up and get back to town.'
* * * *
Vivian was in a coma. Dr. Bracken told Frank that she might linger that way for hours, or even days. There was just no way to tell.
The two dead outlaws were both wanted and had a price on their heads. And they both carried some identification on them, which was a lucky break for the lawmen. Frank would wire the states where they were wanted as soon as the telegraph wires were repaired.
Frank filled out his daily report in the jail journal and then went on a walking inspection of the town. The main street was still a mess. The bodies of the dead had long been carried off, and the wounded were in makeshift hospitals. The undertaker had bodies stacked all over the place, overflowing out into the alley behind his parlor. There was just no time to embalm them all, nor did Malone have enough supplies to do so. The funerals were starting as soon as carpenters could knock together caskets.
Some of the caskets were tiny, and that was heartbreaking for anyone with a modicum of feeling.
Frank tried to talk with Conrad, but he refused to see him. After Frank tried twice and was rebuffed both times, he decided to leave his son alone. Frank would be in town and available when or if the young man wanted to talk.
