'I heard it that time,' Rich said, getting up with Mack's gun to open the door a crack.
Rich saw a sight he would remember for the rest of his life. Jerry Page came crawling toward them on his hands and knees in the snow, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
Rich and Cabot rushed outside to help him.
'Morgan,' Jerry gasped. 'Morgan came up on the rim and stuck a knife in me. He killed ... Roger. Cut his throat with the same bowie knife.'
'We'll take you in by the fire,' Cabot said as he took one of Jerry's shoulders.
'I'm froze stiff,' Jerry complained, trembling from weakness and cold. 'I'm bleedin' real bad. You gotta get me to a doctor real quick.'
'We can't go nowhere in this snowstorm,' Rich said as they helped the wounded man into the cabin. 'It'll have to wait for morning.'
'I'm dyin',' Jerry croaked. 'You gotta help me. Where's Ned?'
Ned and the others pulled out. We ran into Morgan too. He took our boots and guns and horses. We damn near froze to death gettin' back here.'
They placed Jerry on a blanket beside the stove and covered him with a moth-eaten patchwork guilt.
'Morgan,' Jerry stuttered. 'He ain't human. He's like a mountain lion. Me an' Roger never heard a thing until he was on top of us.'
'We figured there was trouble when neither one of you came back,' Rich said bitterly. 'Morgan killed Mack and Jeff and Don and Scott. Only Lyle, Slade, Billy, Rich, Cabot, and Ned made it out of here alive.'
'What happened ... to Morgan's kid?'
'Ned had a gun to his head,' Rich recalled.
'That's the ... only way it's gonna stop,' Jerry moaned as he put a hand over the deep knife wound between his ribs. 'Ned's gotta let that boy go.'
'Ned's gone crazy for revenge. He won't stop until he kills Morgan.'
'Morgan ... will ... kill him first,' Jerry assured them. 'I need a drink of whiskey. Anything.'
'We're boilin' old coffee grounds,' Rich said. 'There ain't no whiskey. Ned and the others took it all with them when we pulled out of here.'
'Water,' Jerry whispered, his ice-clad eyelids batting as if he was losing consciousness. 'Gimme some water. Morgan's gonna kill us all unless Ned ... lets that boy go.'
'You know Ned,' Cabot said, pouring a cup of weak coffee for Jerry, steaming rising from the rusted tin cup. 'He won't listen to reason.'
'I'm gonna die ... way up here in Colorado,' Jerry said as his eyes closed. 'I sure as hell wish I was home where I could see my mama one more time....'
Jerry's chest stopped moving.
'Don't waste that coffee,' Rich said. 'Jerry's on his way back home now.'
Cabot stared into the cup. 'This is not coffee, _mon ami._ It is only warm water with a little color in it.'
* * * *
Ned paced back and forth as a fire burned under a rocky ledge in the bend of a dry streambed.
'Where the hell is Rich and Cabot?' he asked, glancing once at Conrad, bound hand and foot beneath the outcrop where the fire flickered. It was dark, and still snowing, but the snowfall had let up some.
'They ain't comin',' Lyle said.
'What the hell do you mean, they ain't coming?' Ned barked with his jaw set hard.
'Morgan got to 'em,' Slade said from his lookout point on top of the ledge. 'They'd have been here by now if they were able.'
'Slade's right,' Bud said, his Winchester resting on his shoulder. 'Some way or another, Frank Morgan slipped up behind 'em and got 'em both.'
'Bullshit!' Ned cried. 'Morgan is an old man, too old to be a the gunman. He doesn't have it in him to slip up behind Rich and Cabot.'
'I figure he got Jerry and Roger,' Slade went on without raising his voice. 'We know he shot Mack and Don and Jeff and Scott back at the cabin. Poor ol' Curtis never had a chance either. Then you've got to wonder what happened to Sam and Buster and Tony back on the trail when they went to check on Charlie.'
Lyle grunted. 'Morgan must be slick,' he said, casting a wary glance around their camp. 'I wish we'd never gotten into this mess. That kid over yonder ain't worth no big bunch of dollars to nobody.'
'He ain't worth a plug nickel to me,' Billy said as he added wood to the fire. 'I say we kill the little bastard an' get clear of this cold country.'
Ned turned on his men. 'We're not leaving until Frank Morgan is dead!' he yelled.
Lyle gave Ned a look. 'Who's gonna kill him, Ned? We ain't had much luck tryin' it so far.'
'We'll join up with Victor at Gypsum Gap and hunt him down like a dog,' Ned replied.
Slade shrugged. 'Bein' outnumbered don't seem to bother Morgan all that much.'
