think of some other reason for Flint to be here, but he couldn't come up with one.
Unless Flint was meeting with the killers he had hired to prod the loggers and the cattlemen into open warfare that would ultimately ruin both sides. Longarm didn't know what motive Flint might have for doing that, but it was looking more and more likely that that was exactly what had happened.
Longarm gave a little shake of his head. Flint had moved on out of Longarm's view by now. The lawman carefully edged around the boulder so that he could peer after the rider. Flint had crossed the valley and was climbing still higher now, taking a trail so faint that Longarm could barely see it. Longarm turned and hurried back to where he had left Molly and the horses.
'Who was it?' she asked anxiously when he reached her hiding place among the boulders.
'Nobody you know,' Longarm told her. 'A fella named Jared Flint. He's the foreman of the Mcentire logging operation.'
She looked confused. 'What would someone like that be doing up here?
There's not enough trees this high up to make it worthwhile for the loggers to cut them down.'
Not only beautiful but smart too, thought Longarm. Molly was reaching the same conclusion he had, following the same line of logic. He saw awareness dawn in her eyes as she looked at him.
'Custis, he could be the one behind all the trouble!' she exclaimed.
Longarm nodded. 'Yep. That's why I'm going to follow him. If those hired guns are hiding up here, Flint must be on his way to meet with them, maybe give them a new job.'
'What are you going to do?'
'Follow him, try to find out just what he's up to.'
Molly reached for her horse's reins. 'I'm ready. Let's go.'
Longarm caught hold of her arm and stopped her. 'Not hardly,' he said. 'You're going back down the mountain--now.'
'No, I'm not,' Molly said defiantly. 'I'm going to help you.'
'That's what I meant. Go back to the ranch and tell your pa and Joe Traywick what's going on up here. Tell 'em to send some of the Diamond K hands up that coulee, and have 'em be ready for trouble. I'm liable to need reinforcements, Molly.'
She looked doubtful. 'I don't know...'
'It's the best thing you can do for me,' he told her honestly.
'Well... all right.' Her agreement was reluctant, but Longarm hoped she would go through with it.
'I just wouldn't mention anything else that happened up here,' he added, pulling the sheepskin jacket closed over her torn shirt and buttoning it. He was aware of the soft pressure of her breasts against the cloth, but tried not to think about what had gone on earlier. He didn't need that sort of distraction right now.
'Don't worry,' she said. 'That was just between the two of us.' She came up on her toes and kissed him again, hard. 'And I'll never forget it. Custis. Never.'
'Neither will I,' he told her, knowing that was what she wanted to hear. Knowing too that there was a grain of truth in what he said. The memory might fade, but it would always be there, deep inside him. He turned her around and patted her on the rump. 'Now scoot.'
She mounted up and walked her horse out of the boulders. Longarm followed. Both of them moved carefully and quietly. The grass in the tiny valley helped muffle the steps of the horses. When they reached the upper end of the coulee, Molly paused and turned to give Longarm a brave smile. He smiled and nodded, then waved her into motion once more. She started down the coulee.
He turned and rode across the valley to the spot where the upper trail began, the trail that Jared Flint had taken. It was little more than a goat path. Longarm knew he was going to have to be very careful. The vegetation up here was sparse, so there was little cover. If Flint looked back at the wrong time, he was liable to spot Longarm following him.
That was a chance he was going to have to take, Longarm told himself. Fortunately, the trail had a lot of twists and bends in it as it weaved up toward the peak, and there were more of those good-sized boulders scattered about, providing a few hiding places if necessary. His nerves taut with anticipation, Longarm began climbing once more.
Once again, he was thankful for the good fortune that had led him to rent such a trustworthy mount from the livery stable in Timber City. The roan never faltered as it made its way up the steep slope. It placed each hoof carefully, so that no stones rolled underneath its feet. Such a slip could have led to a bad fall; at best, the clatter of rocks bouncing down the mountain might alert Flint that someone was following him. But with the help of the roan, Longarm was able to proceed steadily up the slope. Every so often, he caught a glimpse of Flint several hundred yards above him. When that happened, he slowed down a little, dropping back so that Flint couldn't see him should the timber company foreman happen to glance behind him.
The two men continued up the mountain, and Longarm had to wonder just how high Flint intended to go. Those stolen cattle couldn't have been driven this far up the peak, he decided. They had been disposed of in some other fashion, maybe taken through a pass to the other side of the Cascades. Either that, or they had been driven in the opposite direction, into the ranchlands of the broad Willamette Valley. Getting rid of them there might have attracted more notice and raised more questions, but it wasn't inconceivable.
Maybe his whole theory was wrong, thought Longarm. Maybe there wasn't a hideout up here after all.
That was when he caught sight of a tendril of almost colorless smoke curling into the sky from somewhere several hundred yards above him. From the lower slopes of the mountain, the smoke would have been practically invisible.
Longarm grinned. Somebody had a campfire burning up here, and he figured that camp was Jared Flint's destination.
Longarm dismounted. Despite the roan's surefootedness, he would have to go the rest of the way on foot.
