First Blood

'You're still awfully eager to chase after him, even though your part of the job is ended. This is state police business now.'

'But it's my man he killed and it's my responsibility to bring him in. I want all my force to know I'll stop at nothing to get at anybody who hurts them.'

Orval looked at the pinched butt of the cigarette he was holding and nodded, flicking it into the fire.

The shadows were lifting, trees and bushes distinct. It was the false dawn, and before long the light would appear to dim again, and then the sun would show and everything would be clear. They could have been up and starting now, Teasle thought. Where was Shingleton with the men and supplies? He should have been back a half hour ago. Maybe something had gone wrong in town. Maybe the state police were stopping him from coming in. Teasle churned a stick in the low fire, raising flames. Where was he?

Then he heard the first bark from the dog far off in the woods, and it stirred the dogs that were leashed to the tree nearest Orval. There were five of them here, and they had been awake, stomachs flat out on the ground, eyes intent on Orval. Now they were up, excited, barking in answer. 'Shush,' Orval said, and they looked at him and went quiet. Their withers were trembling.

Ward, Lester and the young deputy fidgeted in their sleep. They were down close to the other side of the fire, hugging their blankets. 'Uh,' Ward said.

'In a minute,' Lester said asleep.

The dog barked far off again, though sounding a little closer, and the dogs by Orval cocked their ears, barking excitedly in return.

'Shush,' Orval said stronger. 'Get down.'

Instead they jerked their heads toward another bark far off, their nostrils quivering.

'Get down,' Orval demanded, and slowly one by one they obeyed.

Ward squirmed on his side in the blanket, knees up near his chest. 'What's wrong? What's happening?'

'Just time to get up,' Teasle said.

'What?' Lester said and squirmed. 'God, it's cold.'

'Time to get up.'

'In a minute.'

'That's about how long they'll take to get here.'

People were crashing through the underbrush out there, breaking closer. Teasle lit another cigarette, his mouth and throat dry, and felt the energy building in him. It might be the state police, he all of a sudden realized, and stood hurriedly, drawing on his cigarette, straining to see into the forest in the direction of the cracking underbrush.

'God, it's cold.' Lester said. 'I hope Shingleton's bringing hot food.'

Teasle hoped it was just Shingleton and the deputies out there and not the state police. Abruptly five men were in sight, rushing between the trees and through the bushes in the pale cold light, but Teasle could not make out what color their uniforms were. They were talking to each other, one man tripped and swore, but Teasle could not identify the voices. If they were state police, he was trying to figure some way of keeping in charge.

Then they were close, hurrying out of the trees up this brief rise, and Teasle saw Shingleton stumbling after the dog that was straining on its leash, and he saw it was his own men behind, never so glad to see them before. They were carrying bulged-out burlap sacks, and rifles, and rope, and Shingleton had a field radio slung over his shoulder, the dog lurching him into camp.

'Hot food,' Lester was up asking him. 'Did you bring hot food?'

Shingleton apparently did not hear. He was out of breath, handing the dog over to Orval. Lester turned in a rush to the deputies. 'Did you bring hot food?'

'Ham and egg sandwiches,' a deputy said, chest heaving. 'Thermos of coffee.'

Lester reached for the sack the deputy carried.

'Not in there,' the deputy told him. 'Mitch. Behind me.'

Mitch was gri

'You covered one hell of a distance last night in the dark,' Shingleton told Teasle, catching his breath, leaning against a tree. 'I figured to find you in less than half an hour, and here it took me twice that.'

'We couldn't move as fast as them last night, remember,' Mitch said. 'We had more to carry.'

'They covered one hell of a distance just the same.'

Teasle could not decide whether Shingleton was making excuses for being late, or whether he was really admiring.

Teasle bit into a sandwich, greasy and barely warm, but Christ, it was good. He took a paper cup that Mitch had poured full of steaming coffee; he blew on it and sipped, burning his upper lip and the roof of his mouth and his tongue, feeling the cold mulch of the egg and ham hot in his mouth. 'What's going on back there?'

Shingleton laughed. 'The state police had a fit over what you pulled.' He stopped to chew into a sandwich. 'Like you said, I waited in that field last night and they showed up ten minutes after you climbed into the woods. They were sweet Jesus mad over you taking advantage of the little daylight you had left so you could chase after the kid and stay in the game. It surprised me they figured it out so fast what you were up to.'

'But what's happened back there?'

Shingleton gri

'Thanks.' He knew Shingleton was waiting for that.

Shingleton nodded, chewing. 'What finally clinched things was I said you knew the kid better than they did and you'd know best what he might do.'

'Any word from them who he is or what else he might be wanted for?'

'They're working on it. They said keep reporting on this radio. The first sign of trouble they say they're coming in with everything they've got.'

'There won't be trouble. Somebody kick Balford there awake,' he said, pointing to the young deputy snuggled in his blanket by the fire. 'That guy will sleep through anything.'

Orval patted the dog Shingleton had given him; he brought it over to lick Balford's face, and the young deputy whipped up, angrily wiping saliva from his mouth. 'What the hell's going on?'

The men laughed, and in the middle stopped surprised. There was the drone of a motor. It was too far off for Teasle to guess what kind it was, but it was roaring more distinct all the time, and then deep and thunderous the helicopter loomed into view over the treetops, circling huge, sunlight glinting.

'What the—' Lester started.

'How'd it know where we were?'

The dogs got barking. Above the din of the motor, the lades shrieked through the air.

'Something new the state police gave me,' Shingleton aid, bringing out what looked like a dull gray cigarette case. 'It gives off a radio signal. They said they want to know where you are at all times and made me carry it and gave the other half to the guy you asked to lend his helicopter.'

Teasle bolted down the last of his sandwich. 'Who's our deputy up there with him?'

'Lang.'

'Does your radio co

'You bet it does.'

The radio was where Shingleton had set it in the low crook of a tree. Teasle flipped a switch on the control panel, and peering up at where the helicopter circled close, sunlight glinting off the shrieking blades, he said loud into the microphone, 'Lang. Portis. All set up there?'

'Whenever you are, Chief.' The voice was flat and scratchy. It sounded like it came from miles away.

Teasle could barely hear it in the roar from the motor. He glanced around at his men. Orval was hurriedly gathering the paper cups and wax paper from the sandwiches, tossing them on the fire. The others were strapping on equipment, slinging on rifles. The cups and paper in ashes, Orval was kicking dirt on the flames. 'All right then,' Teasle said. 'Let's move it.'