Mankillers

With the smell of a salt tang in the air he knew he was drawing close to the river. Wes was right. The switchback ahead was the perfect site for an ambush, but maybe Rufus thought it was too obvious. Maybe he’d decided to pick another spot to waylay them. Tracker also had a valid point. Rufus was no General Lee, more like General Custer who had a reputation for sacrificing his men to achieve his objectives. But Rufus Snead was clever in his own way.

Buck was perhaps fifteen minutes ahead of the coach when he reached the footpath that led to the top of the bluff. He continued to advance slowly, examining every tree and shrub along the narrow trail. He was vulnerable, he knew that, but the hair on the back of his neck wasn’t telegraphing any alerts. He kept going.

At the top of the promontory he removed the binoculars from his saddlebag and began sca

Nothing.

He sca

And once more he couldn’t detect any movement.

Still he wasn’t convinced.

Dismounting, he tethered Gypsy, removed the Henry from its scabbard and crouched down behind a tree stump. He peered yet again through the lenses of his binoculars. In the quietude between bird calls and the buzz of insects, he began to discern the rattle of the approaching stagecoach. His heartbeat accelerated.

Lowering the binoculars he took in the broader perspective.

Suddenly in a tree that had been outside his restricted telescopic view he glimpsed movement. A bird? A squirrel? He raised the lenses again and focused on the spot.

A man with a rifle!

His pulse quickened. He willed it to calm.

He peered more closely. A man with a jagged scar across his cheek. The youth he’d met in the woods yesterday. No coincidence. And no i

Exchanging the binoculars for the Henry, he propped his elbow on the stump and took careful aim. Slowly he applied pressure to the trigger and squeezed off a round. Birds squawked and fluttered into the sky. For a moment his target remained motionless. Had he missed him? Then as if in slow motion the man tumbled to the ground.

Once again he’d killed a man. But there was no time to think about it. He levered in another cartridge.

Movement. This one closer. Almost directly below him.

Without conscious thought, he repositioned his rifle and fired again. Another man fell.

Two down. Neither had red hair. How many were left? Rufus Snead certainly. Somewhere.

Suddenly Buck became aware of an u

The coach had stopped just before the entrance to the bend. Why? More precious seconds passed before he realized what had happened. He’d fired two shots in quick succession. The signal to halt.

Now the very people he’d vowed to protect were easy prey. Especially for a sharpshooter like Snead, who shu

Chapter EIGHTEEN

He had to get them moving. Fast. Buck lifted his rifle and fired into the grove of trees on the other side of the road. Three shots in rapid succession. Get the hell out of there.

Four things occurred almost simultaneously. The coach jerked forward into a full gallop. Another rifle shot sang out. Freddie rolled over on the top of the coach, clutching his left arm. His rifle fell to the roadway.

Buck watched the speeding wagon sway through the first turn. Wes was a man of his word, and a damn good driver. The heavy vehicle tilted and rocked but stayed upright. One last turn, this one more shallow, and they’d be out the shooters’ range. Unless there were more shooters beyond the switchback.

As the lumbering Concord with its precious cargo raced past the ambush site, Buck heard a stuttering of gunfire. Apparently the highwaymen were shooting wild. They probably hadn’t anticipated a galloping team. Wes had barely negotiated the second turn when a metallic screech split the air. Buck watched in horror as the left rear wheel flew apart and the coach tilted precariously. The frantic horses dragged it until they could pull no more.

That damned hub.

The jolt had thrown Freddie off the roof into the bushes. Buck jumped to his feet and watched helplessly as Wes valiantly clung to the reins. After several unsuccessful attempts he was able to reach down and pull the linchpin. Freed, the frantic team galloped off, and the unbalanced vehicle collapsed onto its side.

Buck vaulted up into the saddle and spurred Gypsy down the side of the bluff toward them. The gunfire had ceased. Why? To reload? To get to their horses?

The trees were huge. There was no clear path. Gypsy had been sure-footed in the past. He had to trust the animal’s instincts. Their course was contorted, the descent maddeningly slow. Minutes seemed like hours until he arrived at the bottom.

“The ladies all right?” he yelled out as he raced forward.

“They’re fine,” Tracker assured him. “I told them to stay inside while I checked the area.”

Sarah had pulled herself out of the topside door and was just reaching the ground when Buck came up to help her. She ignored him aside, however, and reached inside for Janey. The girl’s face was pale with fright as Sarah urged her over the side of the opening.

“Janey? Are you hurt?”

“No, Miz. Sarah. I don’t think so.”

“Y’all need to get off the road.” Buck looked around. “Where’s Freddie?”

“Here.” The young guard limped from the other side of the road, clutching his left arm.

Sarah rushed impulsively toward him. “You’re bleeding.”

“Get off the road and out of sight,” Buck ordered.

“How bad is it?” Sarah asked Freddie as she supported his injured arm.

“I’m all right, ma’am. Just nicked me. My arm ain’t broke.”

“Get into the woods, all of you,” Buck commanded them. “Now. Y’all have to take cover.”

Everyone but Tracker moved toward the woods bordering the road.

“Faster,” Buck urged. “When you’re safely out of sight, wrap it tightly to slow the bleeding. I’ll look at it later. Now where did Tracker go?”

#

Rufus was mad as a hornet. His plans had gone bad again. He was dealing with idiots and now two more had gotten themselves killed. Well, it was all their own fault. If they’d stayed still in the trees like he’d told them . . .

He put his thumb and forefinger between his teeth and let loose with a shrill whistle. His men began to lower themselves from the trees.

“Jake, bring up the horses, so’s we can catch up with ‘em.”

“Boss, this plan of yours ain’t working real good.”

“You want that gold, don’t you? Look on the bright side. Now there’s two less people to split it with. There’ll be more for everybody.”

“What about them women?” Clem asked. “You said we could have the women.”

“You ain’t getting nothing, gold or women, if we don’t get a move on.”

Jake rode up on a chestnut, pulling the reins of half a dozen equally emaciated nags behind him. Rufus mounted the bay. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Bobby, the youngest member of the gang, shook his head. “I’ve had enough. I don’t want nothing more to do with this here doctor of yours. He’s done killed four of us already. I ain’t go