“No, but I think he might be up behind that big split rock straight up from where you're standin',” Bonner called back. Then he asked, “How bad is Bob hurt?”
Snider took another quick look at the suffering man. “Hell, he's a goner. See if you can climb up to them trees just below that rock, and I'll cover you.” He pulled Plummer's rifle from the dying man's hand, ignoring the pleading eyes that stared up at him.
Jim Bonner was far from being an intelligent man, but he didn't have to think that one over before replying. “It'd be a whole lot easier for you to climb up there. You're right below him. He'd have an angle on me, and I'm a helluva lot bigger target than you are.”
“Dammit! I said I'd cover you. You ain't yeller, are you?”
“I ain't yeller,” Bonner came back. “I ain't stupid, neither.”
Snider fumed over the situation for a few moments, trying to decide what to do. Hunter had the upper hand at this point. Snider had planned to use Bonner to draw Cade's fire, possibly giving him a clear shot at Cade. Thanks to the big man's reluctance to sacrifice himself, Snider was going to be forced to take a bigger risk. He didn't like taking risks unless he knew he had no choice. Hunter had to die. Snider had too much to lose if people knew the truth about John Slater, a man he had invented. “All right,” he called over to Bonner, “we'll go up together.” When Bonner didn't reply, he called out again. “All right?”
“All right,” Bonner responded. He wasn't sure it was a wise move to leave the thick cover of the firs in an attempt to trap Hunter between them. In his mind, Snider wasn't paying him enough to take a fifty-fifty chance that Hunter would shoot at Snider, giving Bonner the shot at Hunter. He decided to make a show of following Snider's orders while not really sticking his neck out too far, until he saw some sign that Snider was not trying to use him as bait.
“Pepper that rock good so he has to keep his head down,” Snider instructed. “That'll give us a chance to get up in them rocks below him.” He immediately began to lay down a barrage of fire, cocking and shooting as fast as he could. Bonner followed his lead.
For Cade, pressed tightly against the boulder, it was like being trapped in a deadly hailstorm with bullets bouncing off the rock, ricocheting in every direction. Although there was a chill wind sweeping the rocky mountainside, he could feel the dampness of perspiration under his arms while he hugged his stone fortress, waiting for the pause in the barrage. He knew he was going to have to act quickly, anticipating his assailants' plan, for he knew they were probably on the move while they kept him pinned down. Suspecting they may have pinpointed the crevice he was using as a prop for his rifle, he rolled over to the edge of the boulder and waited. The moment he detected a pause in the firing of at least a couple of seconds, he came up on one knee, his rifle ready. He was in time to get a glimpse of one man, but that was all the time he needed to send a rifle slug slamming into Bonner's shoulder. He dropped down immediately after pulling the trigger and heard Snider's bullet ricochet sharply off the rock above his head. As quickly as he could pull the trigger and chamber another round, he sprayed the rocks from where he guessed Snider's shot had been fired.
Bonner yelped in pain and fell backward. Sliding back down the slope until he felt he was safe, he stared at the hole in his coat. “Slater,” he yelled, calling his boss the only name he knew him by. “I'm hit! The son of a bitch shot me!” He hastily pulled his coat open to discover blood already seeping into his shirtsleeve. “I'm bleedin' like hell,” he yelled out.
“Get back up here, dammit!” Snider roared. “We've got him cornered now. I see where he's hidin'.”
Bonner had never been wounded before. The sight of his own blood draining down his sleeve and shirtfront was enough to make him panicky. “I'm bleedin' bad,” he called out. “I need a doctor.”
Lying up the slope from him, taking cover behind a large rock, Snider could only guess how bad Bonner was hurt. “It don't sound like you're hurt that bad. Where'd he get you?”
“In my shoulder, but it's still bleedin' like hell, and it feels like there's a bullet in there the size of my fist.”
“Shoulder?” Snider responded, while trying to keep an eye on the split boulder above him. “Hell, that ain't nothin'. Get your ass back up here. We'll fix up your shoulder after we're done with Hunter.” It was enough that Plummer had gotten himself killed, without Bonner crying over a shoulder wound. The big son of a bitch had left him to shift for himself, and Snider didn't like the situation. Hunter had only had two clear shots, and he struck meat both times. The thought crossed Snider's mind that he needed Curly Jenkins. He could have told Curly to go up that slope and kill the man behind the boulder. Curly was too dumb to question the advisability of it. Snider could still see the stupid expression on Curly's face on the day he shot him.
He waited a few more minutes, but he saw no sign of Bonner. “Dammit, Jim, hurry up!” he called. His call was met by silence that lasted for several minutes, and then he heard the sound of Bonner's horse as its hooves clattered on the rocks at the mouth of the ravine below him.
You yellow dog!
he thought, for he realized then that Bonner had turned tail. In a fit of anger, he rose up in an effort to spot the retreating man, and was immediately startled by a bullet that tore a hole in his coat sleeve. Diving for the cover of the rock, he fumbled to return fire, but was foiled by the lack of a target. Gripped by frustration and anger, he realized that without Bonner, he was at a distinct disadvantage. Hunter held the high ground, and as deadly as he had proven to be with that Winchester, he could sit up there behind that boulder and take potshots at him every time he made a move. The very thought of it caused his blood to boil, knowing that all he had gained with Luke Tucker's gold could be lost if Cade Hunter was allowed to escape. Yet he couldn't make a move toward him without risking his neck. He decided to try a different approach.
“Hunter!” he yelled. “Hunter! Can you hear me?”
“Yeah, I hear you,” Cade called back.
“Hunter, listen, we don't have to settle this thing with guns. I know you're sore for what I done to you and Luke, but, hell, you mighta done the same thing if you'da been me. That dust was as much mine as it was Luke's.” He paused again. “I might be willin' to cut you in for a share of that gold, and nobody gets shot. Whaddaya say? Let's talk about it.”
“I don't wanna talk about the gold dust,” Cade answered. “I wanna talk about Luke Tucker and his body shot full of holes. Tell you what, you come on out in the open and we'll talk about that.”
“Nah, I don't think I'll do that. Why don't you come out from behind that rock, then I'll come out.” He pulled his revolver from his holster and laid it on the ground beside him. “Listen, I didn't wanna have to shoot Luke Tucker. Hell, I always liked Luke. It was them two fellers with me that done it. That's the reason I shot them. They were about to shoot me, too, if I hadn't been quicker'n they were. I was plannin' to ask you and Luke for a share. That's all I was after, but them two boys were wild. They shot you before I could stop 'em.”
“I'm willin' to do this peaceable. Now, to show you I mean what I say, I'm throwin' my guns out so you can see 'em. You throw yours out, and we'll talk about a partnership. There's still plenty of that dust to split.” He tossed Bob Plummer's rifle out a few yards from the rock. “Here's my handgun,” he yelled, and threw the pistol out next to the rifle. “Now you throw yours out, so I know I can trust you.”
If there was one truth in the world that Cade was sure of, it was the knowledge that Lem Snider would lie to Saint Peter if he thought he could get away with it. What Snider could not know was that Cade's last extra cartridge was chambered in the Winchester. He had been in the process of taking the .44 cartridges from the cylinder of his pistol and loading them in his rifle when Snider threw his weapons out. He quickly replaced the bullets in his pistol. “All right, Snider,” he yelled, “we'll talk. Here comes my rifle.” He pitched it carefully a few feet from the boulder so that the barrel was pointing downhill. “I don't have a handgun.” He hoped Snider wouldn't remember that he was wearing a Colt. It mattered little, for he was certain Snider was not without a weapon. He knew it was risky, but he was determined to avenge Luke's death, even if it meant a contest to see which liar was quicker. He was down to six cartridges, and one of those was in his rifle lying out on the open ground. He couldn't afford to continue a long standoff. “All right,” he shouted, “I'm comin' out!”
Peering through the crevice in the boulder, he saw Snider stick out his arm and signal. Cade quickly moved to the other side of the rock, knowing Snider's eyes would be focused on the near side. Suddenly lunging from cover, he dived on the ground, his pistol ready, but the steepness of the slope caused him to slide several yards farther than he had planned. Snider, anticipating Cade's appearance around the near side of the boulder, stepped clear of the rocks just far enough to bring his rifle to bear. The unexpected appearance of Cade at the far side of the boulder forced him to whirl and fire quickly, his shot wide by a foot. With no time to take dead aim, Cade returned fire, also missing, with two shots that ricocheted off the rocks Snider had been hiding behind.
Caught in the open, Cade scrambled back up the slope in an effort to get behind the boulder again. Snider had already jumped back out of sight. Both men had gambled on getting that one clean shot, and neither had been successful. Snider, however, realized that Cade did not have time to get back out of sight. He quickly stepped out in the open again, just in time to see Cade reach the side of the boulder on his hands and knees. There was time for one shot, and he made it count. His bullet caught Cade in the side, causing him to collapse on the ground.
Clawing for a handhold, Cade managed to pull himself behind the huge rock that had been his protection. With a malicious grin of triumph, Snider cocked his rifle and moved up the slope to finish the wounded man.
Wincing from the fiery pain in his side, Cade dragged himself away from the edge of the rock, his shirt already soaking with blood. He struggled to slide his back up against a tree trunk behind the boulder. Knowing Snider would be coming to finish him off, he was suddenly emotionally drained with a feeling of failure, for he felt he had let Luke down. Aware of his life's blood draining from his side, he cocked his pistol, determined to take Snider with him.
Never anxious to charge after a wounded animal, Snider stepped up to the side of the boulder, taking great care. With his rifle trained on the edge of the rock, he gradually eased himself along the cold surface of stone until he was almost to the edge. Then he suddenly stepped clear of it, prepared to shoot, hastily searching for the wounded man. In the time it took for Snider to spot him propped up against the tree trunk, Cade got off two shots. One glanced harmlessly off the side of the rock, the other struck Snider just below the collarbone, spinning him around, causing him to stumble and fall backward.
In a panic to recover, Snider scrambled to his hands and knees, clutching his rifle desperately. He was out in the open, and expected Cade to appear over him at any moment, but Cade did not come. Snider tried to reconstruct the picture he had only seen for a split second. Hunter was propped up against a tree with a bloody stain over half his shirt. In spite of the pain in his shoulder, Snider almost laughed aloud.
He ain't coming after me because he can't,
he thought.
He's gut-shot.
Since he felt sure he had the time, he took a moment to judge the seriousness of his own wound. Deciding that it was not life-threatening, he pulled a bandanna from his coat pocket and stuffed it inside his shirt.
That'll hold till I can get into town to see the doctor,
he thought.
Keeping a watchful eye on the huge boulder a few yards up the slope from where he knelt, Snider considered his next move. Hunter was no doubt waiting for him to show his head around that rock again in hopes of a lucky shot. Snider weighed the probability that Hunter would bleed out and die, like Plummer. He could just leave him to die, and not risk taking another bullet. But, he argued, maybe he wasn't hurt as bad as he looked.
I've already killed the son of a bitch once, and he came back. I'd better make damn sure this time.
Cade knew he was hurt bad. Every time he tried to move, his body confirmed it. There was nothing he could do but wait and do the best he could with the ammunition left in his Colt. He knew he had hit Snider, but he wasn't sure how bad the wound was. It had been several long moments since Snider spun away from the edge of the rock. Maybe he, too, was badly hurt.
And maybe he ain't,
Cade thought, and decided he was going to have to move from the spot he was in the first time Snider peeked around the rock.
The tree trunk he was resting against was not very big, but he pulled himself around behind it, figuring it was better than nothing. He tried to get to his feet, but the pain felt as if he was ripping his insides apart. So he dropped to the ground again and waited, pressing his free hand against the wound to try to stop the bleeding.
Come on, you son of a bitch,
Cade thought as the seconds ticked away, and there were no further attempts by Snider. Suddenly a sound on top of the boulder caused him to react, ready to shoot, but he held his fire when he saw a fist-sized rock bounce to the ground. Instinct told him to redirect his aim to the left of the boulder, knowing that the rock had been thrown by Snider in hopes of distracting him. As he figured, Snider stepped halfway out, firing his rifle as he did. The rifle slug buried in the tree trunk, and before Snider could cock and shoot again, Cade fired. His shot was rushed and missed Snider's chest, ripping into his arm instead. He had time to shoot again, but the second time, there was nothing but the sharp click of the hammer striking an empty cylinder.