As he shouted the orders, Frank lunged toward Goldy. He jerked the Winchester out of the saddle boot. He heard another slug whistle through the air nearby as he sprang back to Salty’s side and reached down to grab the old-timer’s coat with his other hand. With a grunt of effort, Frank dragged Salty behind a nearby tree. Salty sat up and leaned against it, clutching himself and shivering.
“Th-that’ll b-be Sm-Smith’s m-men!” Salty managed to say.
Frank nodded. He had figured that out as soon as he heard the first shot and realized what it was. Smith’s men had waited for their chance to strike, and Salty’s mishap had given it to them. With Frank and Conway busy trying to rescue the old-timer, the women had no one to defend them except themselves. From the sounds of the small- caliber rounds that had been fired, they had tried to put up a fight, but that had ended quickly and now the only shots being fired were from rifles. They were directed at Frank and his companions.
He looked around the trunk of the tree and saw Dog bounding up the slope. Even soaked and freezing, the cur’s fighting spirit knew no limits. Dog disappeared over the crest, and a second later Frank heard snarling and screeching. Dog had gotten hold of one of the bushwhackers.
But he couldn’t take all of them on alone. Frank called to Conway, who had drawn his pistol, “We’ll trade off giving each other covering fire! Go!”
With that, he started squeezing off rounds toward the top of the hill. None of the women were visible now, so he wasn’t worried about hitting them. He just wanted to force Smith’s men to keep their heads down. Spotting several spurts of powder smoke, Frank aimed his fire at them while Conway dashed forward through the trees.
The young man stopped behind a thick-trunked spruce to catch his breath, which wreathed his head with coils of fog. After a few seconds, he called, “All right, Frank, you go!”
Conway stuck his pistol around the tree and started blazing away. Frank leaped out into the open as bark flew from the trunk behind him, chewed off by slugs hitting it. He raced as fast as he could through the snow, leaving the trees behind and heading for a rocky outcropping about halfway up the slope.
Conway’s gun fell silent before Frank got there. The young man’s revolver was empty. As bullets whipped around him, Frank left his feet in a dive that carried him into the cover of the outcropping. The snow softened the impact of his landing a little, but it still jolted him.
As soon as he had grabbed a deep breath, he raised himself enough to fire over the rocks with the Winchester. Conway was off and running again, this time heading for some trees about twenty yards to Frank’s right. He made it and knelt behind one of the trunks, waving his gun to indicate that it was reloaded and he was ready to cover Frank again.
As Conway began firing, Frank started running again, veering toward some trees to his left. This stand of pines ran all the way to the top of the hill. If he could reach them, they could give him all the cover he needed to make it the rest of the way. A bullet tugged at the tail of his sheepskin coat, but that was as close as any of Smith’s men came with their shots before Frank ran into the trees.
They kept trying for him anyway. He heard slugs thudding into the trunks and rattling through the branches. Moving fast in a crouching run, he ignored the danger.
Before he reached the top of the hill, the shooting stopped and he heard shouts. He thought he caught the word “Go!” and realized that the bushwhackers might be withdrawing…and taking the women with them. That made his lips draw back from his teeth in an angry grimace. Once again, the women he had promised to protect were being kidnapped.
Somebody was going to pay for this.
When he reached the top of the hill, he could see that he was right. Five sleds were drawing off into the distance, three of theirs plus two more. One sled had been left behind, but the team had been cut loose and the dogs were following the other sleds, barking crazily. He didn’t see Dog anywhere, or any of the women.
Bart Jennings, though, lay facedown in the snow next to what appeared to be the body of another man.
Frank stepped out of the trees and shouted to Conway, “Pete, they’re gone! Get back down there and build that fire for Salty! Now!”
They had to save the old man’s life. Chances were, they would need his help if they were going to rescue the women.
Holding the Winchester ready in case the bushwhackers had left anybody behind to make a try for him, Frank hurried to Jennings’s side. He dropped to a knee, grabbed the man’s shoulder, and rolled him onto his back.
There was a large crimson stain on the snow where Jennings had been lying.
After seeing how much blood Jennings had lost, Frank wouldn’t have been surprised if the outlaw was dead. Jennings’s breath rasped in his throat, though, and his chest rose and fell raggedly. Frank moved the parka aside and saw that Jennings had what appeared to be three or four knife wounds in his belly.
Dixon again, Frank thought bitterly. He wished he had shot the little opium addict on sight.
Jennings clutched at his arm. “Who…who…”
“Take it easy, Bart. It’s me, Frank.”
“Oh, my God…I…I’m so sorry, Frank. I tried to fight ’em…When the girls started screamin’, I ran to them as best I could…Meg hollered that she had one of them and for me to help her…I didn’t have to see…I got hold of a man’s throat…I could feel his beard against my hands…I swore to myself I wasn’t gonna let go until…until he was dead…”
Frank glanced at the man who lay nearby on his side. The man had a beard, and his eyes looked like they had popped halfway from their sockets. His face was blue, and his tongue protruded from his mouth.
“You got him, all right, Bart,” Frank said softly. “He’s right here close by, and he’s dead.”
Jennings’s face contorted with pain and grief. “It wasn’t enough,” he choked out. “Meg screamed again…and then I felt this terrible pain in my stomach…again and again…The bastard…cut me to pieces…didn’t he?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Ah…hell. Now I…can’t go with you…help you save those girls…You’re gonna save ’em…aren’t you,
