'Come on in!' Frank replied. 'Coffee's damn near done boiling!'
'I smelt it half an hour ago, Morgan!'
He saw the shape of Tin Pan leading his mule down to the creek through a veil of snow. It would be good to have a bit of company tonight. He was sure the old man had a sackful of stories about these mountains. Maybe even some information about the hideout where Ned Pine was holding Conrad.
Frank buttoned his coat and turned up the collar. Then he picked up more dead pine limbs to add to the fire. But even as the pleasant prospects of good company and a warm camp lay foremost in his mind, he couldn't shake the memory of Conrad and the outlaw bastards who held him prisoner.
* * * *
'Damn that's mighty good,' Tin Pan said, palming a tin cup of coffee for its warmth, with two lumps of brown sugar to sweeten it.
'I've got plenty,' Frank told him.' I provisioned myself at Durango.'
Tin Pan's wrinkled face looked older in light from the flames. 'I been thinkin',' he said, then fell silent for a time.
'About what?' Frank asked.
'Ned Pine. Your boy. That hideout up in the canyon where you said they was hidin'.'
'What about it?'
'It's mighty hard to get into that canyon without bein' seen, unless you know the old Ute trail.'
'The Utes cleared out of this country years ago, after the Army got after them,' Frank recalled.
'That still don't keep a man from knowin' the back way in to that canyon,' Tin Pan said.
'There's a back way?'
Tin Pan nodded. 'An old game trail. When these mountains were full of buffalo, the herds used it to come down to water in winter.'
'Can you tell me how to find it?'
Tin Pan shook his head. 'I'd have to show it to you. It's steep. A man who don't know it's there will ride right past it without seein' a thing.'
Frank sipped scalding coffee, seated on his saddle blanket near the fire. 'I don't suppose you'd have time to show me where it was....'
'I might. You seem like a decent feller, and you've sure got your hands full, trying to take on Ned Pine and his bunch of raiders.'
'I could pay you a little something for your time,' Frank said.
Tin Pan hoisted his cup of coffee. 'This here cup of mud will be enough.'
'Then you'll show me that trail?'
'Come sunrise, I'll take you up to the top of that canyon. I've got some traps I need to set anyhow.'
'I'd be real grateful. My boy is only eighteen. He won't stand a chance against Pine and his ruffians.'
'Don't get me wrong, Morgan. I ain't gonna help you fight that crowd. But I'll show you the back way down to the floor of the canyon. They won't be expectin' you to slip up on 'em from behind.'
'I've got an extra pound of coffee beans. It's yours if you'll show me the trail.'
'You just made yourself a trade, Mr. Morgan. A pound of coffee beans will last me a month.'
'It's done, Tin Pan,' Frank said, feeling better about things now. 'I'm gonna pitch my lean-to while the fatback is cooking.'
Tin Pan grinned. 'I'll cut some green sticks for the hen I shot this morning. A man can't hardly ask for more'n turkey and fatback, along with sweet coffee.'
--------
*Ten*
They rode higher, following the creek. Frank was still taken with the thought that Buck reminded him of Tin Pan Calhoun and another snowbound journey into the mountains far to the south in pursuit of Pine and Vanbergen. The big difference now was that Frank didn't have to worry about harm befalling Conrad at the hands of these same murderers. Conrad was safe back in Trinidad, even though the boy behaved as though he resented the fact that Frank had rescued him.
But now, it was simply a kill-or-be-killed manhunt after the men who'd killed his wife and meant to do his son harm, and Frank intended to exact a pound of flesh from every last one of them.
Heavier swirls of tiny snowflakes came at the two riders from above, and Frank shivered inside his mackinaw.
'It's gonna git a mite nasty higher up,' Buck said. He had a crudely fashioned coat made from the fleece and hide of a mountain bighorn sheep wrapped around him to keep him warm as the temperature dropped rapidly.
'All the better,' Frank muttered. 'The cold and the snow will keep Vanbergen and Pine inside where it's warm. I'll have a better chance of slipping up on them.'
Buck nodded once. 'Sure hope you know what you're doin', Morgan. I done told you there's a helluva lot of 'em, an' you's jest one man. There's one you need to be 'specially careful of, a damn half-breed. Wears his hair like a Choctaw, shaved on both sides of his skull. One time, he damn near saw me watching 'em right after they got
