Arkansas Assault

will with stones. He seemed to be damned handy with stones.

For the first time in years, Noah Tillman felt trapped. None of his power, none of his money was worth a damn up here.

“What’s that?” Burgade said, noticing how the trees near the top were suddenly moving, something having invaded them.

“Keep your damned voice down.”

“What’s going on?” Burgade said in a quiet voice.

“What do you think’s going on? That sonofabitch Fargo knows we’re up here and he’s come after us.”

“He doesn’t have a gun.”

“I’d still put my money on him.”

“Don’t worry,” Burgade said in his best tough voice. “I can handle it.”

No need to repeat that Burgade was a fool. He was such a fool that he couldn’t even understand the trap they were in. Now they had two enemies at their heels. And Burgade was oblivious to each.

“In fact, I’ll take care of that sonofabitch right now,” Burgade said without any warning.

And then he went berserk, firing round after round into the general area that had trembled moments ago with Fargo’s passage.

He kept firing and firing until Noah, going berserk in his own way, grabbed Burgade’s rifle and snatched it from him.

Burgade was haunched down on a broad limb that was a straight drop to the ground far below. There were a few slender fingers of branches but nothing that would break a man’s fall. What would break such a fall was the ground itself and it would break many other things besides—the skull, the back, the pelvis, the legs.

And then the dogs would close in.

Noah Tillman was as hungry to push Burgade to his death as the dogs were to eat him. He stared at the stupid gunny with rage burning his gaze and his heart pounding hard.

Soon, Burgade, soon.

It took twenty of the sweatiest minutes of his life for Fargo to get the women in position on the broad tree limb that overlooked that shallow shoreline.

By now it was clear that Nancy’s knee had been shattered. She did an amazing job of swallowing her pain.

Fargo spent ten minutes trying to assess where they would land if they got lucky in jumping off the limb. He calculated it four different times to see if there was any way to improve their chances. There wasn’t. The limb was sturdy for about six feet. It then began to taper off. The length of the entire branch was maybe ten feet, its tip close enough to let a person get lucky if he got a good leap. But the useful, safe part of the wide branch ended at about six feet, meaning that even with a good leap they would land in the shallowest part of the water. They might not even reach the water, smash themselves up on the sand. And the dogs would have at them.

If they couldn’t reach the water then they would have to get to Burgade’s boat and stow away there. Once aboard, they could shut the doors to keep the dogs from getting at them.

If they didn’t injure themselves so badly in the jump that they couldn’t move.

If the dogs didn’t attack them instantly.

If Noah and Burgade didn’t open fire on them as soon as they landed.

But there was no way he was going to risk the lives of the ladies. He’d already made up his mind to that. This perch near the top of the tree sure wasn’t ideal but at least the dogs couldn’t get at them. The women could survive here for some time if they needed to.

There was also, he’d come to realize since doing his calculations, no way that he could dive or jump from this limb. He was simply too high up. Even landing in the water would probably break a couple of ribs if he landed flat. He would need to climb back down the tree a few inches at a time, the same way he’d come up.

He told the ladies his plan. They listened, sitting where the branch grew from the huge oak. Stephanie had seated Nancy so that she could elevate her leg, providing her with only slight relief from the constant pain.

“I’m being selfish here, Fargo,” Stephanie said. “But what if the dogs get you? Or Burgade shoots you? How’re we ever going to get down from here? We could starve to death. Those dogs could be on this island a long time. There’re plenty of animals to eat.”

Nancy was the sentimental one. “Hell, Fargo, I’m worried about you. My sister’s a very nice girl but she’s a little self-centered. You’re taking a big risk down there on the ground.”

“The only hope we’ve got is to get our hands on some guns,” Fargo said. “Kill the dogs and then kill Noah and Burgade if we have to.”

“I know,” Nancy said. “But the burden’s all on you.”

“I didn’t mean to sound so cold, Fargo,” Stephanie said. “I’m sorry.”

“You were just telling the truth. I may not make it down there. But right now I’m the only chance we’ve got. If the dogs or Burgade get me, you’ll have to do the best you can.”

The first rifle shot spanged off the bole of the tree about eight inches above Fargo’s head. Three more shots followed quickly. The women ducked, Fargo dove for the branch and clung to it.

Pieces of bark, leaves, even some nuts stored there by squirrels began falling on their heads. The shots had been way wide of their mark but they’d done considerable damage to the tree.

“That’s all we need,” Stephanie said bitterly.

“Now we need a gun more than ever,” Fargo said. “I’ll have to kill Noah and Burgade right along with the dogs.”

“They might be able to see you climbing down the tree,” Nancy said.

“I still have to do it, Nancy. I’ll try to find a way down the far side of the tree. It’s so wide I doubt they can pick me off ’til I get close to the bottom. And from there I can drop to the ground.”

“And run into the dogs,” she said.

“Well, I know I sound selfish again, but we can’t just sit here and do nothing, Sister. One of us has do something to get us to freedom. And Fargo’s chances are better than ours.”

Fargo nodded.

Talk was through. What mattered now was trying to find a firearm or two.

Fargo began his descent.

Noah was already planning what he would tell people when he got back to town. There would be too many questions—and questioners—for him to play the aloof land baron role he was accustomed to.

Fargo, Burgade, and the sisters would be no trouble. A mass grave right here on the island would take care of them.

The other two, Liz and Tom—they would take some explaining. But that was where Fargo would be the proper villain. Tom found him raping Liz. Fargo killed both of them and then dumped their bodies out on the island where Noah’s dogs savaged them. Noah would be forced—for the first time—to admit that he had dogs like these. But that would help him look like the good citizen. He was so afraid of keeping the dogs anywhere near town that he put them on the island.

As for Fargo, Noah would insist that he’d escaped. And then offer a huge reward for his capture. He would claim that Aaron was missing, too, and that he believed Fargo had likewise killed him and buried the body somewhere.

His final act would be to burn down everything on the island and keep it off-limits to the town, posting a guard to make sure the ban was enforced.

“You even listening to me, Noah?” Burgade said.

“What?” He knew that he sounded old and a bit confused. He had rarely been forced to explain himself to anybody. This story he had to concoct needed to cover so many things, would it satisfy people? Or would all the people who envied and hated him see this as the first serious opportunity to bring him down?

All these deaths tonight, it was supposed to have been a night of hunting, of the singular pleasure of stalking and killing the most challenging prey of all, your own species. Now, all he could think about was going back to the estate and getting a good night’s sleep, safe and comfortable in the knowledge that he was Noah Tillman by God and nobody could touch him.