Girl on a Slay Ride (8 page)

Mallory got to his feet. He made no effort to run. Graef had his gun in his hand now. Running would only be asking for a bullet.

And Graef might beat him, but he wouldn’t kill him. Not yet, Mallory thought. Because Graef needed him for a while longer. That was Graef’s greatest weakness. He had no real weapon against those he needed.

Mallory said, “Before you work me over, you’d better find Blalock, Graef.”

Graef stopped and twisted around. The place where Blalock had stood was empty. There was no sign of him at all.

Graef screamed, “Nick, get him!”

“Calm down, Miles,” Thoms said. “He can’t go nowhere. Take it easy.”

Mallory could see the cords standing out ropelike on Graef’s neck. Mallory took a deep breath. He could feel strength flowing back into his body.

He took a step forward just as Graef started to turn back to him. He pushed, knocking Graef into Thoms. Thoms tried to get around Graef and come for Mallory. He stumbled over Graef and fell, taking Graef down with him.

Mallory turned and ran for the tent.

He heard the gun at the same instant something knocked against his leg. He stumbled off stride, caught himself, and ran on. He thought in surprise, I’ve been shot!

M
ALLORY
plunged into the darkness behind the tent. He put his hand to his leg and brought his fingers away quickly. They were damp with blood.

He lay on his belly in the grass and wriggled around the rear of the tent until he could see the campfire. He understood then why he had not been pursued. Thoms was running for the far side of the meadow, in an attempt to locate Blalock. Graef was walking toward the gap.

Mallory wondered if he had really gained anything. Blalock must be somewhere in the trees because he certainly hadn’t had time to reach the gap and leave the meadow. With Graef guarding the entrance, Thoms could search the thin strips of timber around the meadow methodically. In time he could turn up anyone hiding in them.

But not without a fight, Mallory thought. Not any longer.

He crawled back to the front of the tent and then inside it. He called softly, “Denise!” His voice echoed softly back from the dark canvas walls. The still air held the sound emptily.

Mallory crawled around, feeling with his fingers. She had come and gone. His hand touched the jersey and the tight trousers she had been wearing, her open suitcase as well; the bedrolls had been zipped open and their warm innerliners removed; his knapsack was gone. So was the bag of food. He located his own suitcase by touch and rummaged through it. The.22 was missing.

Mallory wondered what she could have had in mind when she loaded herself down with so much equipment. Even if she managed to get away, she could hardly carry the load she had concocted for herself very far.

He moved to the front of the tent and looked out cautiously. Thoms was not in sight. Graef was a silhouette standing guard in the gap. Mallory could see the rising moon glint against Graef’s gun.

Mallory worked back to his suitcase. His leg was beginning to hurt badly now. He could feel the steady, warm flow of blood. He wished he had his first-aid kit, but it was in the knapsack Denise had taken. Mallory knew he’d need the sulpha powder and the compresses which were in that kit very soon.

He made a temporary bandage out of a pair of clean shorts. He found a flannel shirt and thrust some spare clothing into it. Then he tied it up, making a bundle out of it. He located his hunting knife and attached it to his belt. He used the arms of the flannel shirt to fix the bundle around his neck. He crawled out of the tent toward the creek.

He could hear Thoms in the distance. His heavy body was flailing the underbrush and the thick timber. He was as quiet as a wounded bear.

Mallory grinned savagely through the pain shooting up from his thigh. A brief exploration with his fingers before he had applied the makeshift bandage had pretty well assured him that the wound was more in the nature of a deep burn from the bullet. Because of that it hurt more than a cleanly drilled hole would have. And, Mallory knew, it could also infect faster.

He crossed the creek bed on his hands and knees, turning twice to watch Graef. The man seemed to be looking in the direction of the tent. But he made no move to leave his station in the gap.

Probably waiting for me to come to him, Mallory thought. He grinned again as he rose to his feet in the shadow of a giant cedar. He slipped along the edge of the woods toward the stand of trees under which Graef and Thoms had placed their sleeping bags. He was still a hundred yards from Graef when he reached them. He dropped down and crawled, hugging the ground while he reached out and found Graef’s suitcase. He pulled it carefully toward himself.

Graef had turned and was looking toward the far side of the meadow. Mallory could hear Thoms shouting now: “Blalock! You ain’t helping yourself. So come on out.”

Mallory smiled with tight lips. Then he opened the suitcase and slipped his hand inside. He scattered the clothing inside until his hand closed on boxes of shells. He drew the boxes out. Holding them so they got a little fitful light from the still-burning campfire, he managed to see that they were.38 shells for Graefs gun. He put them in his pocket and then plunged his hand back into the suitcase. His.22 shells were not there. He located Thoms’ gladstone bag. He went through it quickly. There were no shells at all.

Graef must have them with him, Mallory decided. He slid backward and into the timber. He moved along in shadow until he reached a spot where the creek was at his feet. He knelt there and dug into the gravel bed. He pushed the boxes of shells he had taken from Graef’s suitcase into the hole he had made and he covered them with two large rocks. Then he rose and slipped back into the timber.

The stand of trees was no more than about a hundred feet from the meadow edge to the rough rock of the cliff face. Mallory came up against rock before he could see it. He leaned against it trying to think.

Denise would probably have gone toward the gap, he decided. She would stay as close to it as she could without being seen, waiting for a chance to slip through in order to try to get away.

He lifted his head and looked upward. The rock wall rose sheer over eighty feet at this point. He sighted along it in both directions. As revealed by the pale, cold light of the risen moon, there seemed to be no break in it where she might conceivably have climbed out. It did not seem to Mallory that Denise could have gone anywhere else but toward the gap.

Mallory moved westward, guiding himself by keeping the wall of rock close to his left shoulder. The darkness was intense and he walked slowly to keep from tripping on roots, brush and deadfalls. His injured leg was feeling the strain of his constant movement. He tried to go a little more slowly as the pain began to wring sweat out of him. His clothing was soaked through.

When he judged that he was less than a hundred yards from where the rock wall began to curve toward the gap, he stopped and let himself slide to the ground.

He pushed his leg out straight. Brush crackled softly against his foot. Denise’s voice came jerkily, hissingly low from the darkness a few feet ahead of him.

“Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot!”

Mallory said softly, “It’s me. Cliff.”

“I don’t care. Get away from me. You’ll lead them to me. Get away or I’ll shoot.”

Mallory could hear the edge of hysteria in her voice. He knew how darkness in an unfamiliar, lonely woods often brought panic to the bravest people. He thought she must feel alone, frightened, helpless against alien elements.

He said quietly, “I need the first-aid kit from the knapsack. Graef shot me.”

Her voice was tight and high. “I don’t care. Get away before they hear you and come for me!”

Mallory got slowly to his feet. His leg muscles sagged and he almost lost his balance. He put his hands behind him and held to the rock until the leg strengthened. He had located her voice. She was less than ten feet away from him, straight ahead.

He started toward her. He heard her breathing, thick and ragged. He heard the inexpert fumbling of her hands as she cocked the gun.

He took another step, and then another. She moved and he saw the pale blur of her face appear in the dark.

The gun clicked.

Mallory said, “Graef took the shells a long time ago.”

He took a final step. The darkness was disturbed as she moved her arm and the gun came toward him. He ducked to one side. Without warning, his wounded leg gave way. He swept out an arm as he fell, caught Denise around the thighs and pulled. She came down on top of him.

She began to thrash about violently. Mallory got both arms around her and held on. The crackle of brush around them was a series of small explosions on the stillness of the night.

He said savagely, “Why don’t you just yell and tell Graef where we are!”

Her body went limp. He thought she had fainted and he released her and rolled over. Then he realized that she was sobbing silently. A roving moonbeam caught her face for a cold instant. Her mouth was opening and closing as though she could not get enough air. He could see the wild hysteria coming.

He slapped her across the face with his open palm.

Her breath died as a gasp in her throat. Slowly the sobbing subsided. The wildness died slowly away.

She whispered, “Oh, my God!”

Mallory said, “Relax.”

“But they must have heard us. I know they did. They’ll be here!”

Mallory said, “What difference does it make? Do you think either of them could sneak up on us through this brush? We can hide out here all night.”

“And in the morning?”

Mallory said, “By morning, we’ll have to be gone. Now give me the knapsack.”

“It’s behind me,” she said dully.

Mallory crawled behind her and managed to put his hand on the knapsack. He opened it quickly and found the first-aid kit. His hands were trembling. The brief struggle with Denise had caused his bandage to slip. He could feel the flow of blood quickening and running down his leg.

He opened the kit and paused. He listened intently. There was no sound but the breathing of Denise and himself. He said, “If Graef heard us, he’s too smart to leave the gap. You know how his mind works; he’d think it was a trick to get him out of position.”

She was silent. Mallory opened his kit. He risked a flame and flicked on his cigarette lighter in order to locate the sulpha and one of the compresses. Then he snapped the lighter off and put it back in his pocket.

Denise said in a small voice, “I’m sorry, Cliff. I lost my head. When Graef said that about giving me to Blalock for a—a bonus, I panicked. I picked up everything I could find and I ran as far as I could and then I sat down, here. After that I began to realize how dark it was and how many sounds there were around me—and that made it much worse than it had been.”

“We’ll stick together,” Mallory told her to give her some confidence. “That’ll make it easier.”

“Don’t let him catch me, please!”

Mallory said patiently, “I’ll do everything I can for you.” He stood up carefully and managed to get his trousers off.

Denise moved beside him. “I have your flashlight,” she said.

“Turn it on. Screen it with your hand. Here, let me aim it.” He put his hand over hers. He found the light button and pushed. He cupped her hand over the lens to keep the light from shooting upward. He could see his wound now and he worked quickly.

Denise said, “You’re bleading badly, Cliff.”

“Not really. It’s more in the nature of a burn than a wound.”

The light wavered unsteadily in her hand. “I’m sorry, the sight of blood makes me ill.”

“Shut your eyes, then,” Mallory told her. “Just hold the light steady.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And stop apologizing,” he said sharply.

“You don’t have to get mad at me!”

He finished dressing his wound and took the flashlight from her. He turned it off. “I’m not mad. I just want you to get a little nerve back. We’ve got a lot to do. It’s going to take nerve. Whining won’t get us anywhere.”

Her breathing was ragged again.

Mallory said savagely, “Just what would you do if Graef had you now? If he was going to give you to Blalock?”

“I don’t know.”

“The hell you don’t. You’d fight.” He deliberately made his voice biting. “Or maybe you’d like being raped!”

She reached out in the dark to slap him. Her fingers scratched his cheek. “That was a filthy thing to say!”

“That’s better,” Mallory said. “Just keep slugging.”

She gasped. “Why, you bastard!” Then she laughed softly. “Sometimes you surprise me, Cliff.”

Mallory said, “Just remember that Graef is through using a soft sell. From now on, he’s going to be tough. If he can’t make us work for him, he’ll try to kill us.”

“All right, Cliff. Just tell me what to do.”

Mallory rose and slipped on his trousers. He tested his leg. “I can go on for a while now,” he said.

“Go where?”

“As close to the gap as we can get,” Mallory told her.

Sooner or later Blalock will try to get through it. When he does, then we help him.”

“Cliff!”

Mallory said, “I wouldn’t leave a rabid dog in Graef’s hands. When we go out of here, Blalock goes with us.”

M
ALLORY
was worried about the coming daylight. He crouched against the rock wall and looked upward. He was waiting for the first telltale lightness to appear along the cliff rim. Once it did, the advantage he held would shift to Graef.

Denise slept at Mallory’s feet. She stirred restlessly now and then, but for the most part she slept without motion as if aware even in sleep of the need to be quiet.

Mallory and Denise had moved since he had bandaged his leg. Now he judged that they were less than a hundred feet from the point where the rock wall broke to form the gap. He could not see Graef, but occasionally in the past hour he had heard him. He had heard Thoms once, too. Mallory guessed from the sounds of voices that Thoms had given up the night hunt for Blalock and reported to Graef for further instructions. Since then, the night had been quiet.

The first light touched the cliff’s rim. Mallory moved carefully away from Denise. He threaded his way through the tangle of brush and trees to a point where he could see the gap. He stared stupidly out at emptiness. He looked northward, in the direction of the camp’s fireplace. The last coals had burned to ash; only a few wisps of tired smoke moved against the failing night. He couldn’t see the sleeping bags from where he stood. They might be in them. Or in his tent.

A trap? Or had he been wrong, Mallory wondered. Had Thoms come to Graef to report that he had Blalock? If that was the case, maybe Blalock had talked, and now the three of them were on their way to find the money.

Mallory felt a stir of uneasiness. The explanation was too simple. Besides, Graef had told him he didn’t believe that Blalock could lead him through these mountains.

He returned to Denise and wakened her. She sat up, her mouth opening. He clamped his hand quickly over her mouth. “Take it easy,” he whispered.

She shivered in the icy dawn air. Mallory removed his hand. She worked her mouth as if to rid it of a bad taste. Her hands went to her hair.

“I must look horrible,” she said.

“You can go to the beauty parlor later,” Mallory said.

“Don’t be nasty, Cliff. That isn’t like you.”

“I’m jumpy,” he said. “Graef is gone.”

“Gone?” she repeated slowly. “He’s left—for good?”

“The only way he’d leave for good,” Mallory said, “would be with the money—or dead. It could be a trap.”

Faint light was beginning to filter down into the forest now. One by one the trees separated themselves from the heavy black mass made by the night. Denise glanced around and shivered again.

“If it is a trap,” she said, “he’ll be able to spring it soon.”

Mallory was thinking the same thing. He picked up the gear, slipping the knapsack onto his back and carrying the sack of food in his left hand. He gave the bundle made from his shirt to Denise.

“Where are we going?”

“To check,” Mallory said. “I don’t think Graef is a good enough woodsman to fool me with a trap.”

He returned to the edge of the meadow. The area around the gap remained empty. Denise joined him. She pressed against his side. “I’m cold.”

“It’ll be better once the sun comes up,” he said softly.

He was trying to separate the trees and bushes across the fifty feet of open space between himself and the far side of the meadow. Graef and Thoms could be there, he thought. They could be waiting for one or all of them to make a run for the gap.

There was no movement at all. The light increased from the east, melting the darkness. Mallory could see the frost rime on the meadow grass now. Somewhere to his left a Canada jay squawked raucously. A soft rustling turned Mallory to his left. He had a glimpse of a twitching nose, the flick of a bushy tail. He let out his breath as a chipmunk darted over a fallen log and out of sight.

Denise moved back as if afraid of the light. He ignored her.

They couldn’t wait here forever, Mallory realized. It was growing brighter rapidly now. If Graef was across this narrow point of meadow, he would be able to see them clearly soon.

Denise screamed suddenly in shrill terror. The sound burst apart the dawn light, tearing at Mallory’s eardrums. He swung around to see her running to the south. She stumbled over a root, caught herself and ran on. She broke into the open and raced toward the gap.

Then Mallory saw Blalock. He had come out of the woods behind them with uncanny quiet. His acne-scarred face was streaked and torn from slapping brush. His overcoat was covered with bits of leaf and twig. Somehow he had retained his fedora. He wore it pulled over his head so that it pushed his ears out. His little, pink mouth was open, the lips wobbling loosely. He was running after Denise.

Mallory shouted, “Come back! You, Blalock, hold it up!”

Blalock’s head turned. Mallory had a glimpse of his eyes. They were filled with that peculiar milky emptiness. Then Blalock was in the meadow. He ran with surprising speed for a fat man.

Mallory dropped the knapsack from his shoulders and followed. Denise’s panic caught him by surprise. She was already within twenty feet of the gap. Blalock was less than a dozen feet behind her. Mallory shouted again. Neither of them seemed to hear him.

He could feel the heavy slap of the frost-laden grass against his ankles. He kept thinking that he should be able to run faster than a fat man or a woman, yet he seemed to gain nothing on them. He grunted with an effort to increase his speed. He saw the white of the grass come up. It lashed against his face stingingly. He instinctively pulled his head into his shoulders and rolled as the ground rose to smash him.

He lay gasping under the impact. That damn leg, he thought. He’d almost forgotten about it. He could feel the warmth of flowing blood again. He rolled and came painfully to his knees.

Denise was out of sight. The tail of Blalock’s overcoat was disappearing around the outside of the gap. Then Denise screamed again, the sound fainter and more breathless. Mallory swore at his own weakness. He forced himself to rise. He began to hobble across the grass.

He reached the opening and started through. The sound of a heavy body thrashing in brittle brush stopped him abruptly. He heard Graef’s voice, glutted with satisfaction.

“I told you, Blalock, that a good general is never outflanked. And you, Mrs. Lawton, don’t be foolish. I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot.”

Then Graef said, “Where is Mallory, Mrs. Lawton?”

Mallory drew himself back around a cornice of rock. He steadied his back against its rough surface. Graef wasn’t ten yards away, he thought. In a moment he would come back into the meadow. The night, the pain would all have been wasted.

Mallory could barely hear Denise’s answer to Graef’s question. Her words came slowly, as if she still hadn’t caught her breath after her panicky run.

“I haven’t seen him for hours,” she said. “He couldn’t walk on his bad leg. He made me leave him.”

“Nonsense,” Graef said. “I only shot to crease him.”

Denise’s voice was stronger now. “He said the bullet shattered the bone.”

Mallory held his breath. He admired Denise for trying to keep Graef away from him, but he doubted if she was actress enough to convince the man. Mallory felt behind him for a loose piece of rock, for anything that he could use as a weapon. There was nothing, nothing at all.

Graef said coldly, “I don’t make that kind of mistake when I shoot.”

Thoms spoke for the first time. “It was pretty dark and he was running, Miles. He could’ve stepped into the bullet.”

“True,” Graef said thoughtfully. “It’s possible.” He paused, then Mallory heard him say, “If Mallory can’t walk, we can’t use him, Nick. And he’s in no shape to get help. So let’s get to work on Blalock again.”

The tension ran out of Mallory, leaving him sagging and empty. He started to move slowly back toward the meadow. He stopped short as Thoms cursed in a surprised voice. There was the sound of someone tearing through the heavy underbrush. Graef’s gun went off, making a hard, flat sound in the still cold air.

“Get him, Nick!” Graef screamed.

Loud sounds of Thoms floundering wildly in the brush reached Mallory. It took him a minute to realize that they were not coming in his direction. No one had seen him. Blalock must have got away again, Mallory thought in surprise.

Graef said in a more normal tone, “All right, Nick, come back. I told you he would run if we gave him the chance. Now let’s go. And don’t get too close. We don’t want Blalock to know we’re following him. And, Mrs. Lawton, you walk right in front of me.”

Mallory heard the brush rustle. Then there were the sounds of footsteps fading away on hard-packed dirt. Denise had won a respite for him with the story, he thought. He turned and limped back to where he had left his knapsack.

He sat down and began to examine his wounded leg. He thought that Graef must have decided to take the chance that Blalock could find his way from here to the money. Graef couldn’t be absolutely sure, Mallory realized. And that meant he was gambling.

Mallory grinned stiffly at nothing. Graef was gambling because he’d about run out his string. His only means to get what he wanted was force, and that had failed.

Mallory got to his feet. He picked up the knapsack, the bag of food, and the bundle Denise had dropped in her panic. He started toward the campsite.

When he reached it, Mallory worked quickly, anxious not to let Graef and the others get too far ahead of him. He had to find them before Blalock located the money. Once that happened, Mallory knew that Graef would no longer need Blalock—or Denise.

He put water on to boil. He made a large breakfast and wolfed it down. He washed and rebandaged his leg. He went to the tent and changed into hiking boots. When the knapsack was repacked, he was ready to go.

He hesitated at the gap. Maybe he’d be smarter to go back to the highway and alert the police. His mind searched the possibilities. The answer was easy enough to find—Graef could get the money and be on his way out of the mountains before Mallory could make the long twenty-five miles back to the highway.

He turned and started through the gap in the brush that Blalock had made in his flight.