Last Train to Bannock [Clayburn 02] (15 page)

    Clayburn continued south for a time. Then he turned west, crossing the other pass there and heading back toward the pass his own outfit was using. It was a long ride.

    It stopped snowing an hour before he reached the wagon camp. This time it had the look of not starting again for a while. The overcast was breaking up into separate clouds; stars began to show themselves. Clayburn rode into the pass and turned north. Before long he sighted the dark mass of the bunched wagons ahead.

    When he was within hailing distance of the guard positions Clayburn called out, identifying himself. As he rode into the camp he saw with surprise that the whole crew was up, gathering around him swiftly. By the time he had both feet on the ground they'd told him what had happened.

    It was Murchison that told him about Cora. "She was unconscious. Haycox must've knocked her out. Soon's I saw her lay in' there I started to yell. Next thing I knew I was comin' to on the ground with this headache."

    "We went after him," Kosta said heavily. "But he lost us. And it was too damn dark to find his trail."

    Clayburn was silent for a few moments. He seemed to be gathering himself up out of his wariness. He drew a hand across his haggard face and turned to Ranse Blue. There was a hard, flat look to his stare. When he spoke his voice was soft and steady.

    "Which way'd he go?"

    Blue pointed south with his thumb. "Back down the pass. But he must've cut off from it somewhere. We went after him, and goin' faster than he could've with his horse carrying double. We'd've caught him if he'd stuck to the pass."

    Blue glanced up at the sky. "But it looks like Haycox made a little mistake. He figured the snow'd cover his tracks. Only now it's stopped snowin' and he'll be makin' a nice clear trail. I figured at dawn a bunch of us could circle around back there till we find his back trail, and…"

    "How long before it stopped snowing did Haycox head out?" Clayburn cut in.

    "About two hours. A little less."

    Clayburn shook his head. "Take a lot of time to find where his tracks start. And we can't spare the men. We're shorthanded as it is."

    He told them then about Jim Roud-and the Apaches. "We're well to the west of them, and in a couple days we'll be well north of them. But meanwhile they
could
find us and make enough trouble to hold up the wagons. Especially if too many men are off hunting Haycox. I'll go after him, alone. Till I get back you're in charge of keeping the wagons on the move."

    Clayburn turned to Kosta. "Fix me something to eat. And hot coffee. A lot of it."

    "You said no fires at night," Kosta reminded him.

    Clayburn repeated himself, "Fix me a meal. And coffee."

    Kosta started to do so without another word.

    "Get me two fresh horses ready," Clayburn told Blue.

    The old man looked dubious. "One man alone'll take a helluva long time to find Haycox's back trail. Besides, you ain't got a chance till it gets light."

    Clayburn rubbed his hands restlessly against his thighs. "I won't be hunting for his back trail. If I'm thinking straight, he's headed for Adler's outfit. Adler'd pay a lot to get Cora Sorel in his hand. He could force her to sell her freight to him, at his price, with a legal written contract. And use her to make us hand over the wagons."

    Blue nodded slowly. "Could be…So you figure he'll head south down the other pass to meet up with Adler's wagon train. And all you got to do is ride the same trail, only faster."

    "His horse is carrying double," Clayburn said evenly, "and I'll have two. If I sight Adler's wagons without coming across Haycox or his tracks it'll be because I've passed him. If so, I'll turn back and keep looking. One way or the other, I'm going to get to Haycox before he gets to Adler."

    "
If
he's on his way to Adler," Blue put in. "You could be wrong."

    "I'd better
not
be."

    When Kosta had the pan of hot beans and bacon ready, Clayburn made himself eat all of it. He had no appetite, only an irritable impatience to be on his way. But he hadn't eaten since noon, and he was going to need it. He was worn out from riding and there was more riding to do. And there'd be no sleep for him this night. He gulped down scalding hot coffee without tasting or feeling it, held out the cup for a refill and drank that down too before finishing the last of his food.

    As Kosta poured him a third cup, Clayburn told him to fix him a food bag sufficient for a couple days.

    "I already did," Kosta said. "Biscuits, salt beef and cooked beans. And your canteen's filled, too."

    Clayburn drank the rest of the coffee and rose to his feet. Blue voiced one last objection: "I still don't like the idea of you goin' after Haycox alone. That one's a real deadly breed of snake."

    "I've killed snakes before," Clayburn told him, and went to the horses.

    

    

    Several hours after noon Haycox came to a place where the land heaved up in a series of snow-covered hills that separated two mountain slopes a mile apart. He was on foot, leading his tired horse and pushing Cora on ahead of him. She stumbled with every other step, apparently ready to collapse.

    Haycox found that his own legs were getting heavy. But the horse needed the rest from carrying them. Haycox decided to let the animal have another fifteen minutes. Then it would have to carry them again. He didn't care if it finally died from the effort, as long as it got them to Adler.

    He started up the slope of a hill, prodding Cora's back hard with his fist to make her climb. She staggered up ahead of him, each step an obvious effort. When she reached the crest of the hill she let her legs give way and sat down in the snow. Drawing up her legs, she wrapped her arms around them and put her forehead down on her knees.

    Haycox halted beside her and gazed south down the pass, hoping to see Adler's wagons coming toward him. They weren't in sight yet. Fingers nervously caressing the butt of one gun, Haycox turned and looked back the way he'd come. There was no one in sight there either. But he could see only too clearly the tracks he'd left behind, sharply visible all the way back to a line of trees half a mile to the north.

    He hadn't figured that it would stop snowing as soon as it had. But he consoled himself with the thought that they wouldn't have been able to start tracking him till dawn; and even then it was bound to have taken them a couple of hours to find where his trail started. He still had plenty of time to get to Adler's outfit before anyone following his trail caught up with him. He was counting on that.

    Haycox looked down at Cora coldly. "Get up and get moving."

    Her head remained on her knees. She gave no sign that she heard him.

    "I said get up!"

    Cora raised her head, but otherwise did not move. "I can't. I have to rest."

    "You'll get your rest later," Haycox told her in that peculiar, empty voice of his. "And don't make me repeat my orders. If I had the time I'd teach you how to obey. You're long overdue for a rough lesson."

    She almost smiled. "But you don't have the time, do you? You're scared stiff they'll catch…"

    He slapped her, moving too fast for her to dodge it. The sound of his palm against her cheek was sharp and loud. Cora fell over on her side and lay there looking up at him. There was no fear in her face, only hate.

    "You'll either get up," he told her, "or I'll start kicking you. Hard."

    She got her feet under her and stood up, swaying.

    But she was not as weary as she looked. She was merely doing everything she could think of to slow their progress. She had started doing so shortly after she came to on his horse during the night. Picking a place were the snow looked deep and soft, she'd fallen off the horse. That had forced Haycox to stop, climb down and pick her up. And she'd pretended to be semiconscious, going limp to make it harder for him to get her and himself back on the horse.

    She'd done it again a few minutes later. After that he'd had to give a lot of his attention to holding her from falling. The rest of the time that she rode, Cora leaned all the weight she could forward against the horse's neck to tire it faster. When she walked, she staggered.

    She staggered now. as Haycox pushed her ahead of him. At the bottom of the slope she dropped to her knees, head sagging.

    Haycox stopped and looked at her viciously. "I meant what I said about kicking you."

    "I'm too exhausted to go much farther, no matter what you do to me. And if you kick me to death I won't be worth much to Adler."

    "I won't have to kill you," Haycox told her, smiling. "You're like your mules when they get a touch of the whip. You'll be surprised how a little pain can make you keep going a lot longer than you think you can."

    Cora got up very slowly. They went through a short, narrow opening between two hill slopes, came out the other side…

    Clayburn's voice said behind them, "Stand right there."

    Cora didn't have to be told what to do. She did it instantly, dropping flat to the ground to leave Haycox a clearly exposed target. Haycox whirled around, his hands flashing to the grips of his guns. He stopped himself with the guns halfway out of their holsters.

    Clayburn leaned against the side of a notch in the hill-slope, holding his carbine trained on Haycox's middle. Behind him, deeper inside the notch, were his two horses.

    Haycox forced his fingers to spread open, letting the two Colts slide back into place in their holsters.

    Clayburn straightened a bit. His eyes had a dull shine to them in a face that appeared sleepy. "Now unbuckle your guns."

    Haycox remained frozen in position, hands still poised over the grips of his guns. "You're wearing a gun on your hip," he whispered tightly. "Put the rifle down and we'll both have an even chance."

    "Not so even," Clayburn said without heat. "You made the mistake of showing me how fast you are."

    "You're saying you're afraid of me?"

    "Uh-huh. I'm afraid. Now either go for your guns or drop them. You've got two seconds to decide."

    Haycox stared at the round dark eye of the carbine aimed at his stomach. His hands went to the buckles of his gun-belts, unfastened them and let them fall to the snow.

    "Now kick them away from you," Clayburn told him in the same monotonous tone.

    Haycox hesitated, then hooked a toe under each gun-belt and kicked them away. "If you're going to shoot me down…"

    "If I was going to shoot you down without a chance, I'd have done it by now. You wanted a fair duel. You'll have one."

    Haycox frowned slightly. "I don't understand."

    "You will."

    Cora was rising to her feet. Clayburn glanced at her, seeing the imprint of Haycox's hand on her face. "Did he hurt you much?"

    She touched her cheek. "I didn't enjoy it. You were near enough to hear. Why didn't you stop him?"

    "He might have spotted me before I could get behind him," Clayburn explained unemotionally. "Your friend is too good with those guns. I figured you could take a slap better than I can take a bullet."

    "You
are
yellow," Haycox sneered, still clinging to a faint hope of goading the other man into a fast-draw contest.

    Clayburn told Cora in a lazy voice, "Move farther away from him."

    Cora obeyed immediately, watching them.

    Clayburn motioned at Haycox by raising the carbine an inch. "Back up three steps."

    Haycox backed away slowly, like a man in a trance, not knowing what came next. Clayburn moved to Haycox's horse, drew the rifle from its saddle scabbard and checked it. He levered a cartridge into the fire chamber, thrust the rifle back into the scabbard. Then he backed off into the notch in the hillside and brought out one of his horses.

    "Come back beside your horse," he told Haycox.

    The puzzled look was gone from the killer's face. He moved up beside his saddle with all of his usual smooth-flowing grace. Clayburn unbuckled his own gunbelt and let it fall. Then he slid his carbine into the saddle boot of the horse beside him, and faced Haycox with his hands empty. He still looked sleepy, but something savage glowed in the depths of his green eyes.

    "Understand now?"

    "No." But Haycox did understand.

    "You wanted to try your speed against mine," Clayburn said softly. "Let's try it with something neither of us've spent all that time practicing."

    Haycox said nothing. But he took on a coiled-spring look, spreading his feet a little, his narrow shoulders hunching forward.

    "All right," Clayburn whispered-and reached for his carbine.

    Haycox twisted toward his horse and whipped the rifle from its scabbard. All of his fantastic ingrained speed was there. But the combination of movement and weapon was not the one he'd devoted most of the years of his life to making part of him. It took him a split second to bring the rifle to bear on Clayburn.

    Clayburn shot him in that split second.

    The bullet struck Haycox in the right side of his chest. It spun him completely around. His finger was on the trigger of his rifle but he suddenly could not find the power to pull it.

    Clayburn, holding the carbine hip-high, fired again. The weapon jerked in his hands. Haycox was flung away. He fell on his back, arms and legs sprawling out from his body and then freezing that way. His mouth was open and so were his eyes, staring at a sky they couldn't see.

    Clayburn turned his head slowly, first one way, then the other, as though easing a knot in the back of his neck.

    He unfastened one hand from the carbine and lowered it.