Ellen turned without speaking. She went back to the stove and dabbed her apron at her eyes.
“I’ll be fine,” Jim said. “I have to do this.”
“Really? You have to ride out and get yourself killed?”
“I hope I’m a little harder to kill than that.”
Jim picked up his rifle, checked the load, then tilted it toward the floor. “We can’t hide in here forever.”
“Not forever,” Ellen pleaded. “Just until help comes.” Tears ran down her cheeks now, and she turned to her father. “Father, tell him. Tell him we should wait for Captain Neill.”
“I can’t do that,” David said. “If your husband feels like he needs to ride out, then he should.”
“Fool men,” Ellen said. “You and your damned pride.”
“Ellen,” Jim said, and moved to hold her. “Ellen, this isn’t like you. You’ve been so brave; what’s changed?”
She dabbed the tears away. “We’ve just…Jim, we’ve been blessed with so much and now…now I’m afraid to lose you.”
“We can’t be afraid,” Jim said. “You won’t lose me. I’m going out for a little ride. I’ve got to see what they’re planning, then I’ll be right back.”
“Right back? You’ll be careful, then?”
“Very careful. Before you know it I’ll be back and then we’ll all sit down and wait for Captain Neill together.”
Jim knew he had to find a way to lift the siege. The pressure was getting to them. Tough as Ellen and her family might be, only he and David could hold up to the danger Cord Bannen represented.
First chance I get, I’ll take her and the children to town. David and I will hold this place ourselves until help arrives.
It wasn’t true. Two men alone—only one while the other was sleeping—could not hope to hold the place. But the cabin they could afford to lose. It, they could rebuild and replace. Nothing could ever replace Ellen and the others. They had to be safely away.
* * * *
There were tracks leading away from the barn and toward the tree line. Jim and the Appaloosa followed them. There were drag marks along the grass, streaks of blood painting the leaves a rusty red. He passed through slender white aspens.
The wind shifted, and the Appaloosa shied back. Jim took the rifle from its scabbard, content to sit for a moment. What had upset the horse? Bannen and his men? Something else?
Jim held his breath. The only sound was the drumming beat of his heart. He smelled the woods, the pine needles, and something else. Something beneath all that. He smelled blood…blood and death.
He climbed down and started forward.
Ten steps later, where the grove of aspen ended and the pines began, he found the bodies of Bannen’s men. There were four of them. Their clothes remained, but the pockets had been turned out. Their hats, guns, and even their boots were gone.
Jim circled wide around the bodies, then went on. He moved slowly, pausing often to listen and take stock of what lay all around him. There was little by way of sounds, a few birds, unseen and seldom heard. Pine branches dipped and bowed in rhythm with the shallow breeze.
The tracks were easy to find. They headed deeper into the trees. Jim led the Appaloosa along after them.
Brush, pine needles, and dry branches covered the ground. A trail of fine gray smoke rose through the trees ahead. Jim tied the Appaloosa to a sapling and continued forward. Like a shadow, he flitted from trunk to truck through the scattered pines. There were four of them huddled over a fire, four dirty men in rough clothes. Jim settled in and watched them.
Cord Bannen was not among them, but he recognized the tall man with the coonskin cap who’d shot at him from the corner of the barn. The other three he recognized as well. They’d been the men riding in close to the cabin the prior night. One was hurt. One arm was bandaged in a sling.
And Bannen isn’t here. He’s got more men, then, or he’s gone off to get them.
Where would he find such men? How many might there be?
Jim recalled one of his father’s few bits of wisdom. Gold draws trouble like nothing else. Bannen might recruit an entire army to throw at them.
Laughter from the men around the fire drew his attention. The tall man was telling a story or joke and the other three were laughing.
Jim didn’t feel like laughing. These men were here to take what his family had worked so hard for and then to kill them.
The rifle was at his shoulder before he knew it. He felt the tiniest hint of guilt for shooting without warning, but his finger was already taking slack out of the trigger. These men were evil. They were here to kill Ellen and Walt and Alma.
He shot the tall man in the chest. It was a mortal shot. Jim knew it when he looked down the rifle’s sights and pulled the trigger. His target fell over backward, coffee flying and without making a sound. For a few seconds, the man’s companions looked on in confusion. Jim cycled the action, shifted his sights, took aim. His second bullet struck the nearest man in the side.
That got them moving. The remaining two dove for cover, guns drawn. They fired carelessly into the trees, evidently unsure of where their attacker might be.
Jim waited for them to extend themselves out of cover. When one did, he took a quick shot and missed. He knew he should call it quits. He’d wounded one, killed another. He had done enough.
He glanced back the way he’d come, back to his waiting horse. It was time to go. He rose just in time to see riders coming in from his right. Led by Cord Bannen, they were riding hard and almost on top of him.
Bannen was grinning.
Jim emptied the rifle as fast as he could work the action. He hit nothing. Bannen dove off his horse and the others reined in to avoid the incoming fire. Jim didn’t waste the opportunity.
He was back to the Appaloosa in a moment, slamming the rifle into its scabbard, throwing himself into the saddle. He spun the horse and kicked him into a fast gallop.
How far was it to the cabin? If so many men caught him in the open, he would be finished for sure. He had to reach safety. He had to reach help.
