Outlaw Pass (9781101544785) (16 page)

They had ridden for over an hour when the sun finally rose high enough to warm the chilly air that lay low in the narrow valleys they followed, as the stream made its way to the river. Soon they emerged from the hilly country and entered the broad river valley of the Beaverhead. Shallow and peaceful at this time of year, the river offered cover along its banks with thick stands of willows and some cottonwoods, with berry bushes hovering over the edge. A dozen yards or so away from the water, however, the valley appeared treeless and barren of anything beyond short grass, framed by the same sparsely treed hills they had been riding through all morning. Relieved at least to find no waiting party of bushwhackers, they turned north and followed the winding river.

“Maybe they still ain't found out we've gone,” Finn said when there appeared to be no one in the broad river valley but them.

“Maybe,” Adam replied.

“How far you figurin' on followin' the Beaverhead before cuttin' back east again to strike the Madison?”

Adam shrugged. “Well, I can't say I know this part of the country all that well, but I believe the Ruby River joins this one somewhere just south of that range of mountains between the Jefferson and Madison. I just wanna make sure we're far enough north of Virginia City before we head east, so when we get to the Ruby, at least we'll know we're a good ways above Virginia City.” Their conference was interrupted then by Bonnie.

“How long are you two planning on riding before we stop to eat?” she asked. “This little mare I borrowed is showing signs of needing a rest.”

Adam looked up at the sun to guess the time of day. It was high overhead, a little past noon, he figured. Bonnie's mare had shown signs of a lack of stamina, which had already troubled him in the event a flat-out race for survival was necessary. The other horses and the mules still had shown no indication of fatigue. He pulled his horse up beside Bonnie's and looked the mare over. “I expect you're right,” he said, “but I think another hour won't hurt her.” He wheeled his horse and started out again. It was nothing but pure luck that saved him, for the .44 slug that split the air between them would have impacted with the center of his chest moments before.

“Go!” Adam yelled, and kicked the bay gelding hard with his heels. His shout was really unnecessary, because as soon as the report of the rifle sang out, all members of the party responded by taking flight. The riverbank, thick with brush and willows, offered the only cover close by, so Adam headed for it with the others close behind. The bank was about five feet high at that point, enough to provide cover from that side of the river, but not enough to protect the animals. With no time to look for a better spot, and two more shots to hurry them, he directed them to move the horses and mules downstream to a point where the willows were thickest, hoping this would take them out of the line of fire. “I'll stay here and hope they think we're all here,” he told Finn. “On my packhorse, there's a couple of pistols and an army carbine. Give the women each a weapon and hope to hell they don't have to use 'em.”

“You'll need me and my rifle,” Finn protested.

“Let's see what we're up against,” Adam said. “I don't wanna take a chance on losing our horses.”

“All right,” Finn said, and moved quickly down the bank. He was reluctant to leave his fortune guarded only by two women, anyway.

 

“Damn the luck!” Bellou cursed. It had been a long shot, but one that the deputy was sure he could have made if his target had not picked that instant to wheel his horse away. His gut feeling had caused him to scout on ahead of the others while they stopped to water their horses. Something had told him that the man he stalked had to be just ahead. Horse droppings they had seen, still warm and fresh, had told him so as well. Now he was intent upon pinning the four of them down on the riverbank while he waited for the rest of his posse to catch up. He reasoned that, if he could keep them occupied till then, then he could send half of his men across to the other side of the river and catch Finn and his hired gun in a cross fire. So he reloaded his rifle and continued to pick away at the riverbank.

Approaching at a gallop, the remainder of the posse pulled up to Bellou, and scrambled from their saddles when Adam rose long enough to send a series of .44 slugs in their direction. “Where are they?” Jesse shouted excitedly. When Bellou pointed to the spot on the bank where the rifle fire had come from, Jesse complained, “Why the hell didn't you wait for us to move up closer to 'em?”

“Wasn't no use to,” Bellou replied. “I had a shot at that big son of a bitch. I coulda pretty much ended the whole thing right there, but he moved right when I squeezed the trigger.” Sykes was about to complain as well, but Bellou cut him off. “What's done is done,” he said. “We've got 'em pinned down, anyway. They can't go anywhere without stickin' their noses out.” He motioned to Cox. “You and Skinner and Blackie go on back upstream a ways and find you a place to get across. They ain't got no protection from the other side of the river. The rest of us will give you a head start, and then we'll move in a little closer. We oughta have 'em in a trap.”

Cox glanced briefly at his two friends and exchanged a nod of agreement with each of them. “Sounds like a good idea,” he said, and motioned for them to follow him.

“And, Cox,” Bellou called after them, “I ain't lookin' to take no prisoners back, so kill 'em all.”

“Women, too?” Blackie asked.

“Women, too,” the deputy replied. “Ain't nothin' but a couple of whores.” He turned to Jesse then. “You and Sykes start pepperin' that bank. We'll wait a spell, then work our way over behind that rise.” He pointed to a hummock about fifty yards from the river and directly in front of the spot where he had last seen Adam's muzzle flash.

“I don't trust them three,” Jesse stated.

“I don't trust any of you,” was Bellou's response. “But I reckon as long as you all do like I tell you, we'll finish this business up in short order, and take that gold dust back to Bannack.”

Back in the willow thicket, Finn and the women huddled beneath the bank, listening to the exchange of rifle fire upstream. “You need to go help Adam,” Bonnie urged. “I don't want anything to happen to him.”

“I can't leave you women to guard the livestock,” Finn said, equally worried about the odds Adam was left to face.

“The hell you can't,” Bonnie at once retorted. “I can handle this carbine as good as you.” She looked at Lacey, huddled next to her, nervously holding one of Adam's pistols. “You know how to shoot that thing?” she asked. With little enthusiasm, Lacey nodded. “There you go,” Bonnie said to Finn. “We'll handle things here. You go on.” Finn hesitated, unable to make up his mind. “We ain't going anywhere with your gold,” Bonnie reassured him. “And if you get killed, you won't care whether we did or not. So go help Adam.”

Finn paused a moment longer, then decided she was probably right. “Don't let anythin' happen to my mules,” he said in parting.

 

“Bonnie said they could handle it,” Finn said before Adam could question him. “Where are they?”

“Behind that rise yonder, about a hundred yards. I'm pretty sure there's six of 'em, and they ain't gonna stay there long before they try to move in closer.” They were forced to duck then as a couple of shots kicked up sand a few yards away. Adam looked up again in time to see three of them scurry away from the rise on foot and make for the riverbank. “I was wonderin' when they were gonna do that,” he said. “I was thinkin' that, if it was me, I'd split up and come around on the other side of the river.” He thought it over for only a few moments more before deciding what had to be done. “We're gonna be in a world of trouble if that bunch sets up behind us on the other side. You get on back to the women and move on downstream. I'm gonna cross over and see if I can stop those three comin' down the other side of the river. If I'm lucky enough to get in a couple of shots before they spot me, maybe I can keep'em from catchin' up to you.”

“Damn!” That was all Finn could respond with, and Adam could clearly see that the Irishman was undecided if he should stay or go.

“Go ahead, Finn,” Adam instructed firmly. “I'll stop those three from gettin' behind you. You just worry about keepin' the other three in front of you.” Finn only hesitated a moment more before hustling off downstream again. The thought ran through Adam's mind, as the squat little man ran along the bank, that it was almost unnecessary for Finn to bend over. Nothing was visible but the crown of his hat bobbing along. Once he was out of sight, Adam brought his mind back to the situation confronting him. He wished then that he had had more time to pick a place to defend themselves from. This section of the river offered very little for cover. “Well, we'll do the best we can,” he muttered to himself, and stepped into the water.

So intent was he on the task ahead of him that he barely noticed the cold that gripped his legs as he pushed out into the middle of the river, holding his rifle and cartridge belt high over his head. Much to his relief, the water only rose to just beneath his armpits before becoming shallow again, as he hurried across as quickly as he could manage. Picking a place where the willows formed a wedge that protruded out onto a small sandbar, he dropped to his knees to keep from presenting a silhouette to the three who might already be approaching. A few shots from the other side of the river caused him to look in time to see the three who had stayed making a break for the cover of a low hummock some fifty yards from the spot he had just vacated. He considered throwing a few shots back in their direction, but was reluctant to give away his position and spoil his surprise for the three working their way down on his side of the river.

 

After hurriedly tying the horses on some brush behind the rise, Jesse and Sykes followed Ainsworth's deputy toward the hummock. As he ran, hunched over in an effort to expose as little as he could, Jesse's eyes were fixated on Bellou's broad back before him. Thinking of the conversation he and Sykes had engaged in the night just past, he made a sudden decision to yield to the temptation to eliminate one claim on Finn's gold. With his pistol already in hand, it was easy to simply raise it a little and pull the trigger.

“What the hell?” Sykes jumped when the deputy collapsed with a neat bullet hole in the center of his shoulder blades. Confused by the unexpected sound of the shot before him, he dropped to the ground and looked behind him, thinking the shot must have come from somewhere in that direction. As he looked at Jesse then, it registered with him what had occurred, and he was quick to raise his own .44 in defense in case he was next on Jesse's list. He was met with a wicked smile on Jesse's face.

“That's one less split on all that gold, partner,” Jesse explained. “When we finish off this bunch hidin' in the river, and get our hands on that gold, maybe we'll cut a few more shares. Whaddaya say?”

Relieved to see that he was still considered Jesse's partner, Sykes answered with a grin, “I never liked that son of a bitch, anyway. When we're done, there'll be more'n enough dust for the two of us. Right?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Jesse replied, quick to reassure him. “Me and you are partners. We'll be ridin' high when we hit some of them Texas towns, or maybe go to California if that suits you better.” Resolved to their task then, they stripped Bellou's body of anything of value, then crawled up to the edge of the hummock and began to lay down a fresh barrage upon the clump of willows, unaware that it had been abandoned. “We'll take care of business, then come back and round up the horses.”

Meanwhile, on the far bank, Adam knelt and waited. It was not long before he caught sight of the three men slipping stealthily through the trees. While the willows afforded cover from sight, he knew their slender trunks wouldn't offer much real protection in the event of a hailstorm of .44 slugs. So he took careful aim on the man in the lead when he had approached to a distance of perhaps fifty yards. As soon as he squeezed the trigger, he immediately sprang to his feet and retreated before even taking time to confirm the kill, a kill that he was sure of nonetheless. As he had anticipated, the willow thicket he vacated was riddled with .44 slugs from the remaining two outlaws, shredding leaves and sending shards of bark flying.

When there was no return fire from the willows, Cox and Blackie knelt down beside Skinner, who was obviously mortally wounded by the rifle shot dead center in his chest. “Help me,” Skinner begged pitifully as he tried to keep from choking upon the blood filling his lungs.