street.
“Fall back! Fall back!” the shout drifted to the trio. “This ain’t no good. We’ll take them come the night.”
“Nap time,” Louis said, and promptly stretched out, his hat over his face, and went to sleep.
The bounty hunters—those left alive—called out their surrender to Mills. They had suffered two dead and four wounded. Mills ordered the dead buried. When that was done, he lined up the living.
“I just don’t have the time to arrest you properly and transport you into Rio for trial and incarceration,” he told them. “But I have your names—whether they are your real names is a mystery that might never be solved—and your weapons. Ride out of here and don’t come back. If I ever see any of you again, I shall place you under arrest and guarantee you all long prison terms. Now, move!”
The manhunters gone, the marshals and Larry exchanged glances. They were all a little shaky from the fire- fight, but all knew they had grown a bit in the experience field.
“I would say we conducted ourselves rather well,” Larry said, trying to stuff and light his pipe with trembling fingers. He finally gave it up and put the pipe into a pocket.
“You did well,” Mills said, putting a hand on Larry’s shoulder. “I believe we all proved our mettle. I’m proud to ride with you, Larry.”
“The shooting appears to have stopped,” Moss said, looking toward the high peaks where they believed Smoke to be holed up.
“That’s still a good day’s ride from here,” Mills said. “Let’s get cracking.”
The day dragged slowly on without another shot being exchanged. The outlaws and bounty hunters built fires for cooking and for warmth and waited for the night.
Smoke was silent for a time, deep in thought. Finally he made up his mind. He looked at his wife. “I want you gone from here, Sally, while there is good light to travel. I don’t see the point in waiting for the night. It’s a pretty good bet that nearly all of the manhunters and outlaws are right down there below us. You should have an easy ride back to Rio. Louis, take her out of here.”
“All right,” the gambler said. “I agree with you. But first let’s load you up full and get you all the advantage we can give you.”
They had taken all the rifles from the saddle boots of the dead outlaws and bounty hunters, as well as a dozen pistols. They were all loaded up full and placed within Smoke’s reach. It would give him a tremendous amount of firepower before having to stop and reload.
Louis slipped out behind the rock wall to saddle up the horses and give Smoke and Sally a few moments alone.
“I’ll make one last plea and then say no more about it,” Sally said. “Come with us.”
Smoke shook his head. “They’d just follow us, and we’d have to deal with it some other place. They’d probably even follow us back to the Sugarloaf or into town and that would get innocent people hurt or killed. So I might as well get it over with here and now.”
He leaned over and kissed her. “See you in Rio, honey.”
“You better get there,” she told him with a forced grin. “ ’Cause if you don’t, I’m going to be awfully angry.”
“Let’s go,” Louis called from behind the rock wall. “We’ve got some clouds moving in.”
Smoke shook hands with the gambler, and then they were gone, the rock wall concealing their departure from the many blood-hungry eyes below them.
Smoke put a fresh pot of coffee on to boil and gave the long fuses leading from his position to the dynamite a visual once-over. Everything seemed in order. He ate slowly, savoring each bite, and then rolled a cigarette and drank several cups of coffee. He knew it was going to be a very long and boring afternoon. But he was going to have to stay alert for any kind of sneak attack the outlaws might decide to launch at him.
Twice he went back to check on his horse. The animal seemed well rested and ready to go. The last time, with about an hour of daylight left, Smoke saddled him up and secured his gear.
As the shadows began to lengthen over the land, Smoke checked all his weapons. He could see the men moving toward him. A lot of men. He checked both flanks; men were moving in and out of the sparse timber and coming toward him. Still out of range, but not for long.
Smoke emptied the coffee pot and kicked out the fire, leaving only a few smoldering sticks. He drank his coffee and pulled his .44-.40 to his shoulder, sighting a man in and gently squeezing the trigger. The rifle fired, and the man fell to his knees, tried to get up, and then pitched forward on his face. Smoke shifted positions and emptied one rifle into the thin timber on his left flank. A scream came from the shadowy scrub. He emptied another rifle into that area and several men ran out, one limping badly, all of them heading down as fast as they dared, getting out of range.
Lead began howling off the rocks in front of him while others slammed into the logs behind him. Men began rushing from cover to cover, panting heavily in the thin mountain air. This high up, the heart must work harder. Smoke fired and one man did not have to worry about breathing any longer.
The .44-.40 slug hit him in the face and tore off most of his jaw. He rolled and bounced his way down the mountain, leaving smears of blood along the way.
Rock splinters bloodied Smoke’s face. He wiped the blood away and shifted to the other side, firing as he went, so the others would not know he was alone on the mountain.
On the right side of his little fort, Smoke noted with some alarm how close the manhunters were getting. He looked straight down the mountain. Men were moving in on him, working their way from sparse cover to sparse cover . . . but still coming. He ended the journey for two of them, head and neck shots. Smoke grabbed up a .44 carbine and began spraying the lead below him as fast as he could Work the lever. That one empty, he grabbed up another and ran to the other side. The manhunters were getting closer. Too damn close. A slug ripped through the outside upper part of his left arm, bringing a grunt of pain.
Time to go!
He ignored the pain and ripped his shirt to see how bad it was. Not too bad. He tied a bandana around the wound, then picked up a smoldering stick and lit the fuses. Smoke ran behind the rock wall and grabbed the horse's reins, running and leading the horse toward the narrow pass. He did not want to be in the saddle when the explosives went off. It was going to make a hell of a lot of noise, and the horse would be spooked.
“I think we got him, boys!” a man yelled. “Let’s go, let’s go.”
The outlaws and manhunters came screaming and yelling triumphantly up the mountain. When no shots greeted them, they began cheering and slapping each other on the back.
The explosives blew, each charge five to ten seconds behind the other. One of Lee’s co-leaders, Horton, about seventy-five yards from the small fort, looked up in horror at the tons of rock cascading toward them. He put a hand in front of his face as if that alone would stop the deadly thunder. A watermelon-sized rock, hurtling through the air, took his hand and drove it into his head.
His buddy, Max, seemed to be rooted to the mountain side, numbed with fear. He would forever be a part of the mountain as tons of rock buried him.
Pecos and his gang of young punks had not advanced nearly so far as the others. Screaming in terror, they ran into the timber and were safe from the deadly cascade.
McKay’s legs were crushed, and Ray was pinned under a boulder. Both lay screaming, watching their blood stain the ground and life slowly ebb from them.
Lee Slater and his group, Al Martine and his pack of no-goods, and part of another team watched from below as the carnage continued high above them.
Al lifted field glasses and grimaced as he watched through the thick dust as Sonny tried to outrun the rampaging tons of rock. He could see the man’s face was tight and white from mind-numbing fear. Sonny was swallowed by the rocks. All but one arm. It stuck out of the huge pile, the fingers working, opening and closing for a moment, a silent scream for help. The fingers suddenly stiffened into a human claw and stayed that way. As soon as the buzzards spotted it they would rip, tear, and eat it to the bone.
Jere and Summers almost made it. They had lost their weapons and were running and falling and stumbling down the mountain. Their mouths were
working in soundless screams, the pale lips vivid in their frightened faces. Several huge boulders hit a stalled
