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hoof. Movements ceased.
"Over there," a man said.
Not one of the Travens, yet a familiar voice, not one pleasantly familiar,
either. Her mouth was dry and she tried to swallow, tried several times before
succeeding. She gathered the reins, hesitating. Exactly where were they?
There was movement, she glimpsed a horse's head, then the rider. Behind him,
another rider.
"Well, would you lookit this! An' all alone, too! Just you an' me an' the
lady, Cut. Jus' the three of us. I'd say we were gonna have us a time!"
Cutler and Hayden, and she was alone ...
Fifteen
She slapped the spurs to her horse and went down the trail as if shot from a
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gun. Ducking her head because of low branches she raced down the narrow trail,
and seeing another turning off to the north, she whipped into it. Her horse
leaped a small stream and ducked under a low-hanging limb.
They were close behind and coming fast. If only she had a gun! The trees
arched over the trail, and at places wind had bent them down until they almost
closed the trail. Running wasn't going to be enough. She'd have to fight. They
were too close behind, and the first time she encountered a real obstruction
her horse would stop and they would close behind her.
What would she do? Stab for the face with the end of the stick, then take off
again.
Kate was angry. She did not like to run, and she despised the two men who
were pursuing her. Yet she was no match for them in any land of physical
encounter, except briefly. Well, make it brief then!
Suddenly there was a log across the trail. How good a jumper was her horse?
She did not know, but she headed him right at the log, and he went for it,
sailing right over it in a long, graceful leap. She pulled up quickly as
Hayden's horse balked, and turning in her saddle she struck him across the
face with her stick.
His hand had gone up to block the blow, but too slowly. Her move had been
unexpected and swift. Her stick smashed Hayden across the face, and then she
was gone again, racing away down the winding trail.
Coming suddenly into a small clearing with a fallen-in cabin, she turned at
right angles and raced off down a road of two ruts with grass growing between
them. Her horse seemed happy to run, and she gave him his head. A glance back
showed they were coming.
Rounding a bend in the road she saw before her a low hanging branch. She
ducked ... too late!
She hit the ground hard, and her horse went racing off. She heard a yell of
triumph, and Hayden hit the ground as she came up. His face was bloody, and
there was an ugly welt where she had struck him. It looked also as if his nose
might be broken. That she glimpsed in one startled moment as he lunged to grab
her.
She jerked the stick up, gripping it with both hands, and as he lunged at her
she ripped the jagged end of the stick into his throat, just back of the chin.
Hayden gave a strangled cry and fell back, blood gushing from his throat.
Cutler dropped from his horse and rushed at her.
She backed off a little, choosing her ground. "Come on!" she invited. "You
can have what he got!"
Cutler was wary. He circled.
Hayden was on his hands and knees, choking on his own blood. "Heh ... help
me!" he pleaded. Cutler ignored him, circling, watching her like a cat. "You
throw down that stick!" he said. "You an' me, we can git along. We don't need
him. We don't need nobody. Jus' you an' me?"
"You'd better take care of your friend," Kate said calmly. "I'm not afraid of
you, and the Travens are coming. They're bringing the rope to hang you with!"
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Cutler was a heavy, powerful man, but quick. She must be very, very careful!
What was it Dal always said? "You got to think of the terrain. You got to use
the ground."
The place where they were was a clearing in the forest not more than fifty
feet across, edged on one side by a marsh with no water visible, its surface
covered with a thick mat of water lilies and clumps of sedge. As a child she
had often hopped from one such clump of sedge to another, but the
water-lillies in between often grew over deep water.
There were some scattered pines, much undergrowth, and other trees. She
backed off, toward the edge of the lilies, and Cutler followed, his eyes on
her.
How much did he know? Of how much was he aware? To make her first leap she
must turn her back on him, something she was loathe to do, yet suddenly, she
did just that. She turned and leaped for the nearest clumb of sedge, feeling
his hands grasping, slipping off her arms as she barely eluded him.
She landed on the sedge, sagged dangerously but came erect and leaped to the
next clump. Unaware he lunged after her and ran right into the lily pads. He
went down, came floundering to the surface gasping. "Damn you! I'll -"
Coolly, she leaped to another clump of sedge, then running to the nearest
horse she caught up the reins and got into the saddle.
He was floundering in the water and lily pads. "Help me! Help! I can't swim!"
"Everybody has troubles!" she said, and rode away.
It was Cutler's horse, and there was a rifle in the scabbard and a pistol in
a saddle holster.
She was armed. Now she could look for Dal.
Dal holstered his gun and looked over at Mac. "Well, boy, this is what it all
comes to. You and me and them. If we don't get out of this alive I just want
to say no better man ever lived, and I've been proud to have you for a brother
and a friend."
"That goes double, Dal, but you and me, we can make it. We've got to for
Kate's sake, and then we've got to take the girls home.
"You know, Dal, I wonder what happens to men like Ashford? He was a respected
man, and he could have gone on to make something of himself. Now he's thrown
it all away."
"He was rotten at the core, Mac, like one of those pretty red apples a man
bites into sometimes. What it all comes down to in the end is a matter of
honor and simple decency. If a man doesn't have that, he's nothing, and never
will be anything, no matter how many cows he owns."
"You ready?"
"If I ain't I never will be. We got it to do, boy, and I've a hunch here's
where the shootin' starts."
Mac stepped into the saddle and edged ahead of Dal. He was thinking, Dal had
Kate if they could find her, and who did he have?
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He had known a lot of girls, but when it came down to now, where were they?
And who would shed a tear if he folded his cards on this trip? Just nobody,
outside of his family.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves and dappled the grassy trails. Shadows
lurked deep under the trees in this scattered, stunted forest. He saw the
tracks where several javek'nas had crossed the trail, leaving the deep, sharp
little prints of their passing. They didn't leave much of a mark, but who did?
He drew the Spencer from the scabbard. A pistol was all right, but for a man
with strong hands a rifle was better. He could shoot straighter, farther, and
harder, and he had learned to shoot a rifle like a pistol, shooting right from
where it was.
"Must be twenty of them left," Dal said. "Maybe even more."
"Makes it about even," Mac said, grinning at him over his shoulder. "But
let's you an' me find Kate and dust out of here. They don't have anything we
want."
"Yes, they do. Back yonder in that wagon they've got coflee, bacon, and ..."
"Ssh!" Mac lifted a hand, and they reined in, listening. They had come close
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