Elliot must have sensed his danger because he tried to pivot around and line his rifle up on Longarm. He’d have done it too if Longarm hadn’t hurled his second rock, which struck Elliot in the chest and knocked him a half-step backward. Elliot shouted and tried to regain his balance and take aim, but he was a fraction too late and Longarm shot him at almost point-blank range. Elliot gasped and staggered as Longarm shot him a second time.
The man toppled over backward, his head striking a rock and then slipping into the pond. Longarm retrieved Elliot’s rifle and pistol, then sat down to gather his wits and catch his breath. He was all battered and messed up. The bath that he’d never quite gotten around to taking in Jasper Rock would have been a waste of time and money.
Longarm tilted his head back to gaze up the steep slope toward the road high above. He wasn’t a bit sure that he was going to be able to hike out of this gorge, not with his bad leg. Well, he thought, there didn’t seem to be any choice but to try. Somewhere up there, Splash might still be waiting along with Elliot’s horse, which would be hidden off the trail. So if Longarm could get out, at least he’d have two horses, saddles, and rifles for his trouble.
It took Longarm nearly three hours to crawl back out of the gorge, and he had been fortunate to make it at all. Luckily, he’d chanced upon a game trail, one with solid footing. After that, it had just been a lot of grunting and groaning until he’d finally made it back to the top.
Splash was gone, and so was Longarm’s complete outfit. Fortunately, it didn’t take much time to discover where Elliot had hidden his own animal, so Longarm was able to mount up and ride back to the place where he’d been ambushed. It appeared that several wagons had passed on the road while he’d fought for his life down in the gorge and then had struggled to climb out. Reading the hoofprints as best he could, Longarm thought it looked as if at least two of the passing wagons had been heading for Leadville. One, however, had been going back down to Jasper Rock.
Guess I’ll go with the odds and hope that I can find my horse and outfit up ahead in Leadville, Longarm decided. If I can’t, I suppose that I ought to feel grateful for Elliot’s outfit, which isn’t all that bad.
Longarm struggled into the saddle and rode on into Leadville, aware that every passerby was giving him a real going-over. That wasn’t too surprising given that he was covered with dust and blood.
When he reached Leadville, he found the nearest livery and made hurried arrangements to have Elliot’s horse boarded for the night.
“Mister,” the liveryman drawled, “you look like you fell off a cliff or something.”
“Well,” Longarm said heavily, “that’s just about what happened, all right. Have you seen a good-looking paint horse wearing a saddle and bedroll come into town?”
“An empty saddle?”
“That would be my guess.”
“Well, then, as a matter of fact I have,” the liveryman said. “He was tied behind an ore wagon. Reason I noticed was that he was one good-looking sonofabitch. I said to myself, ‘Self, that there is a nice damn horse.’”
The man grinned. “That’s what I said to myself, all right.”
“Well,” Longarm replied, “do you have any idea where I might be able to recover that paint?”
“He’s yours?”
“He is.”
“I’d look for him up at the Jim Bob Mining Company. That’s where the ore wagon was heading.”
“Where would that be?”
“About a mile up ahead.”
“Thanks,” Longarm said, climbing painfully back into the saddle.
“Mister, you don’t look fit to ride up the street!” the liveryman called as Longarm started to ride away.
“I’m a fooler,” Longarm called out as he put Elliot’s horse into an easy jog on through town.
The Jim Bob Mining Company was just about what Longarm had expected, and he saw Splash still tied to one of the company’s ore wagons up by the mining superintendent’s office. Longarm rode up beside the paint and didn’t even bother to dismount. Instead, he unbuckled his saddlebags and inspected them to make sure that nothing was missing. Everything was in place in both bags, but his rifle boot was empty, so Longarm figured he had no choice but to dismount and go inside the office in order to reclaim the rifle and get things straightened out.
“Hey!” a rough-looking man with a yellow bandanna tied around his thick neck called as he stormed outside. “Get away from that horse!”
“He’s my horse,” Longarm growled.
“The hell you say!”
“Where’s my rifle?”
“What rifle?”
Longarm was in pain and completely out of sorts. He drew Elliot’s six-gun and pointed it at the man’s broad chest, saying, “As you can plainly see, I haven’t had a very good day. So cut the bullshit and get my rifle before I put you under arrest … or worse.”
The big man stared. “You’re the law?”
“That’s right,” Longarm said angrily, reaching into a pocket filled with dust and pebbles to extract his badge. “A United States deputy marshal, and I could arrest you and probably have you hanged for horse stealing!”
The man actually threw up his hands as if he were under arrest. “Now hold on here, Marshal! I didn’t steal that horse! I found him up wandering on the road and brought him in so him and your outfit would be safe.”
