here. He carries an old Henry rifle an' he don't miss much around him.'
'I'll get it done,' Frank assured him. 'I'm not worried about some half-breed. I need to see the lay of things around that old mining town first.'
Buck grinned, studying the high country before them. 'I'll have to hand it to you, Morgan, you ain't got no small poke when it comes to nerve.'
Frank ignored the remark. 'How much farther is it to that trail?'
'Ain't far. Don't git your britches in a knot. We'll be there before you know it.'
Dog stopped long enough to shake snow from his coat. Then he trotted on ahead of the riders.
'That fleabag has got good eyesight an' hearin',' Buck said. 'He don't hardly miss a thing. If I hadn't been downwind from him when we first met up, he'd have heard me sure, or smelt me when I come down to find out who you was.'
Frank knew the pads on Dog's feet would be half frozen by now, and he meant to stop and make a small fire out of dead pine limbs, sheltering it with his tarp so no one would see the smoke curl into the sky. Dead limbs gave off precious little smoke, unlike green wood.
* * * *
Two more hours of steady climbing came to an abrupt halt when Dog stopped, his fur standing rigid down his back, a low growl coming from his throat.
'Trouble,' Frank whispered as he and Buck reined down on their horses.
'I smelt it too. Somebody's got a fire up yonder round that turn. A lookout, most likely, only he ain't got the stomach for this cold. The damn fool's burnin' green wood. Let's git these horses into the trees an' we'll git round behind him. I done told you I ain't gonna take a hand in this fight ... it's all yours. But I'll help you find who's layin' for you up there, if I can.'
'I'm obliged, Buck.'
They reined their horses to the trees. Frank called Dog over to stay with the horses, then drew his Winchester and levered a shell into the chamber. 'I'll follow you, Buck,' he said. 'Just show me where he's at.'
'Could be more'n one,' Buck warned.
'That suits me even better. The more of them I can take down before I get Vanbergen, the easier my job's gonna be when I get there.'
Buck turned into a northwesterly wind with his Sharps over his shoulder. Frank followed in his footsteps, moving slowly among the ponderosas.
Buck paused now and then to scent the wind. Frank also smelled the smoke.
'Won't be far now,' Buck said. 'Most likely on the top of that ridge where they could see anybody comin'.'
'Can we find a piece of higher ground?' Frank asked as he peered into the snowfall.
'Jest follow me an' I'll show you. The shootin' part is up to you. I ain't killed nobody since the war, an' I don't aim to take up the habit again. You'll be on your own when we find the bastards.'
'I understand,' Frank said.
* * * *
Two men in cowboy hats were huddled around a small fire inside a pine grove overlooking the creek. Their horses were tied deeper in the forest behind them.
'Yonder they is,' Buck whispered. 'If you're any good with that Yellow Boy repeater, you can kill 'em now.'
'I never shoot a man in the back, Buck,' he replied quietly. 'I'll give 'em one chance to toss down their guns. If they give up peaceful, I'll take their horses, boots, and guns so they can start walking back toward Glenwood Springs.'
'Their feet'll freeze off.'
' They'll still be alive,' Frank told him, raising his rifle to his shoulder as he leaned out from behind a pine truck.
'Get those hands up where I can see 'em!' Frank bellowed. 'If you make a move toward a gun, I swear I'll kill you!'
One man seated before the fire whirled and came out with a pistol. Frank squeezed the Winchester's trigger immediately.
The clap of a .44 rifle exploding ended the high country silence. A yelp of pain followed as the cowboy went spinning away from the fire onto snowy ground with blood pumping from his chest.
The second cowboy tried to scramble for a stand of nearby trees. Frank's second bullet cut him down instantly, curling him into a ball as he clutched his belly, yelling at the top of his lungs with the agony of a gut-shot wound.
'Nice shootin', Morgan,' Buck remarked. 'That was damn near a hundred an' fifty yards. You ain't half bad with that saddle gun.'
Frank stepped out from behind the tree. 'That's two of them I won't have to worry about. I'll turn their horses loose and we can get back on that trail. It won't be long till Vanbergen and Pine figure out that some of their little lost lambs won't be coming back home.'
He moved cautiously down to the fire. The first man he shot was dead, staring blankly at gray skies. The second lookout was still squirming around in a patch of crimson snow, his face knotted in pain.
