Longarm was already gasping for breath due to the fact that his head was constantly going in and out of the water. Flint had caught him at a bad time, when there was little air in his lungs. Desperate, Longarm struck out at Flint with his fists, hoping to knock Flint's grip loose. Instead the fingers only tightened. A gray haze that had nothing to do with nightfall began settling over Longarm's vision. He knew he was very close to losing consciousness, and if he did, Flint would kill him.
Then, suddenly, there was nothing underneath him. The water fell away, leaving Longarm and Flint shooting through thin air.
Of course, thought Longarm. The construction of the flume had only started.
They had reached the end of the line.
Instinctively, Longarm grasped Flint's shirt and twisted in midair as they traveled through a long, graceful curve toward the ground. Tree branches caught at them, slowing them slightly, then with a crash that jolted all of Longarm's teeth, they slammed into the earth. Longarm's quick thinking had put Flint on the bottom, though, and he bore the brunt of the impact. Flint's fingers were torn from Longarm's throat as their landing knocked the two men apart and sent them rolling separately down the slope.
Water was gushing in rivulets around Longarm when he finally came to a stop. The torrent pouring off the end of the flume was washing down the Mountainside. The cold water revived the stunned lawman, and he lifted his head to look toward the flume. As he watched, the flood came to a halt, dying away to a trickle. Someone up above had thought to lower the sluice gate once more. There were no more shots coming from up there either. The fight was over.
Longarm wondered who had won. For the time being, he was more concerned with Jared Flint. Here under the trees, the shadows were even thicker and darker, but after a moment he spotted the sprawled bulk that could only be Flint. Longarm pushed himself to his feet, groaning at the pain shooting through his battered body. He stumbled toward Flint, and as he did, he checked the holster on his hip. The gun he had taken from the dead guard at the outlaw camp was gone, which came as no surprise.
He didn't need it, he told himself. If Flint put up a fight, Longarm would kill the son of a bitch with his bare hands.
Flint wasn't going to be putting up a fight, though, not ever again. Longarm dropped to one knee beside the man, who lay on his back staring up sightlessly at the stars now appearing through the spaces in the canopy of trees. Slamming into the ground at such high speed with Longarm on top of him like that had probably busted up Flint inside. When Longarm grasped Flint's shoulder and turned him onto his side, even in the faint starlight he could see that the damage was much worse. The whole back of Flint's skull was caved in. He had to have died almost instantly.
With a sigh, Longarm pushed himself to his feet. The threat of Flint's schemes was over. Now he had to hope that Flint's hired gunmen had been dealt with as well.
'Custis! Damn it, Custis, where are you?'
Longarm lifted his head. That was Molly Kinsman's voice. She wouldn't be up here unless the forces led by her father had won the battle. Longarm began trudging wearily up the Mountainside toward the dam.
When he reached it a few minutes later, looking no doubt like a half-drowned rat, he saw that several lanterns had been lit. Matt Kinsman's cowboys and some of the loggers from Aurora's camp were standing together around several prisoners, covering the captured gunmen with rifles. Molly, Matt Kinsman, Joe Traywick, Wing, Aurora Mcentire, and Ben Callahan, of all people, stood near the dam. Molly spotted Longarm and ran toward him, shouting excitedly, 'Custis!' She threw her arms around him, ignoring his soaked clothing.
Kinsman strode after her, followed by Traywick, who limped along being supported by Wing. Traywick's injured foot hadn't stopped him from being in on this showdown.
Aurora and Callahan joined the group clustering around Longarm.
'You all right, Marshal?' Kinsman demanded gruffly. 'Or is my daughter about to squeeze you to death?'
'I reckon... I'll be fine once I catch my breath,' said Longarm. Actually, every muscle and bone in his body ached, and the old wound on his back hurt like blazes. He was going to need some time to recuperate from this job.
Kinsman jerked a thumb at the prisoners. 'We rounded up this bunch, them that didn't make us kill 'em. Found one floatin' in the pond too. Reckon that was probably your doin'.'
Barcroft, thought Longarm. He nodded wearily. Molly wasn't hugging him anymore, but she still had an arm around him as she stood beside him. Longarm looked at Kinsman and then at Aurora and said, 'Glad to see that you two finally decided you could work together.'
'Once this Chinese gentleman showed up at the camp and told us what you'd found out, there wasn't much choice,' said Aurora.
'When I first got to this part of the country,' Longarm pointed out, 'you never would've believed him since he works for Kinsman.'
'Well... I hope that such distrust is behind us now.' Aurora looked at Kinsman.
'Far as I'm concerned it is,' the rancher grunted. 'I still ain't overly fond of what you've been doin' up here, but I'll make an effort to get along if you will, ma'am.'
Aurora stuck out her hand toward him. 'Of course.'
Kinsman took her hand, and they shook on it. Longarm felt a surge of satisfaction that gave him some renewed energy. One of the things he had set out to do had been accomplished. With luck, there would be peace between the cattlemen and the loggers from here on out.
He looked at Callahan and asked, 'What are you doing up here?'
'I was at Aurora's camp,' Callahan said rather awkwardly, 'explaining myself to her.'
'Asking me to marry him, he means,' Aurora said, with a laugh. 'You could have knocked me over with a feather, Ben. I always thought you couldn't stand me.'
'I hope you know now that's not true.'
