“What about honor?”
Mirabeau shrugged and said, “They are Americans,” as if that excused anything he and his friends might do.
Joseph looked over at his sister. Charlotte was chewing her bottom lip worriedly. He knew the prospect of more violence bothered her, too, but he also knew she didn’t like to go against what Mirabeau wanted.
Like everyone else, she still had the idea in her head that one day he would be her husband.
Though his jaw was tight with anger, Joseph said, “There is nothing I can do to stop you, is there?”
Mirabeau shook his head. “No.” He turned to the other men. “Mount up. They will have gotten far enough ahead of us by now. We’ll circle around in front of them and set up an ambush. Wolverine Rock would be a good place.”
Several of the men nodded in agreement. They swung up into their saddles.
Mirabeau turned back to Joseph and Charlotte. “The two of you can follow us and bring the mules and the guns.”
From the sound of Mirabeau’s voice, Joseph was no longer in charge of this mission. Injured pride welled up inside him, but he forced it down.
“You don’t want us to come with you?”
“Someone has to bring the guns along,” Mirabeau said. He was trying to sound reasonable, but Joseph knew the real reason for the decision. Mirabeau no longer fully trusted him. He was afraid that Joseph would do something to ruin his plan.
“Fine,” Joseph said.
Mirabeau nodded and waved his companions into motion. They headed down the valley, riding hard. They would have to set a fast pace in order to reach Wolverine Rock ahead of the American outlaws. Fortunately for the Metis, this was their homeland. Mirabeau had hunted and trapped all over these mountains. He knew all the shortcuts.
“This could turn out badly, Joseph,” Charlotte said. “I wish Anton were not so stubborn.”
“But he is, and we cannot change him.”
Joseph began gathering up the reins of the pack mules. The Gatling gun that had been used earlier had been disassembled and returned to its crate. All the crates had been closed up and lashed to the animals again. He waited until Charlotte had climbed into the saddle of her horse and then handed some of the reins to her. He took the others.
They started down the valley, leading the mules. Their pace was much slower than that of Mirabeau and the other men. Joseph supposed that when they were done with their ambush—when they had finished killing the Americans and stealing back the chests of gold—they would either wait at Wolverine Rock or return for him and Charlotte.
There was nothing to say, so they rode in silence. The sun moved toward its zenith. It was almost midday, Joseph judged, when the sound of gunshots in the distance came to his ears.
Charlotte heard them, too. She caught her breath, stiffened in the saddle, and said, “I pray that Anton is all right.”
Sadly, Joseph was no longer certain he shared that sentiment.
Joe Palmer gave in to his curiosity and asked, “Say, exactly how much are those gold bars worth, anyway?”
Lundy grinned over at him as they rode side by side. “Tryin’ to figure out what your share’s gonna be, Joe?”
Palmer shrugged. “Seems like that would be an important thing to know.”
“Well, you know the same as I do that it all depends on how much you get for it. There’s not a set price.”
“You’re bound to have a pretty good idea, though,” Palmer insisted.
“It ought to be in the neighborhood of fifty thousand dollars,” Lundy said.
Palmer let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of money. Ten grand apiece since there’s only five of us left.”
“Hold on a minute,” Lundy said, his voice hardening. “You’re not figuring the same way I am.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jericho and I were taking thirty percent.”
“Jericho’s dead,” Palmer pointed out.
Lundy shook his head. “That don’t change anything. I’m still taking fifteen thousand.”
The tone of his voice made it clear that Palmer, or anyone else, was going to have plenty of trouble on his hands if that decision was challenged.
“All right,” Palmer said. “So that leaves thirty-five grand to split four ways.”
“You weren’t in on the whole deal. Five for you, ten each for the other fellas.”
Palmer had to swallow an angry curse. He glanced over his shoulder at the other three outlaws. He didn’t know any of them personally, but he recognized the wolflike intensity with which they were watching him. They were listening to the conversation with great interest.
“You know what?” Palmer said, recognizing the razor-thin line he was walking. “That sounds mighty fair to me,
