Cruz was having a hard time getting his head around it. “How could he get so much in so little time?”
“We are not talking about an ordinary man, Chico.”
Katie had led the Starking girl over to the horses to rest. Walking back, she said, “Something interesting. The girl said, just before they got to this clearing, Gunny mentioned they were close to his place. That might be where he went.”
He stood looking up the mountain. “Well, now….”
Cruz began walking toward the horses. “We go after him now?”
“Nope.” He cast a glance at the sky, and the long shadows under the trees. “It’s getting too dark. I’m not going into the woods after Gunny in the dark. He would be laying for us for sure.” He walked back to the horses. “Better make a fire, and get some food in our bellies. After the meal, put the fire out. We’ll sleep in a cold camp tonight.”
11
Later, when they were away from Katie, Cruz talked to Trent. “Where do you think he will go? I bet he’s long gone from here.”
“I don’t think he’ll go anywhere, Chico. I think he will stay right here, and wait to see what we do. He can’t chance an open fight, and he won’t want to lead us to his camp.” His gaze turned to the forest. “I’ll go out tonight.”
“But you said—”
He shrugged, thinking of the night ahead. “I didn’t want to worry Katherine.”
“Ah.”
12
The moon had come and gone, leaving the campsite a jumble of dark shadows and phantom shapes. The night air assailed the senses, as his eyes tried to penetrate the blackness. Every pore of his body tried to gather information his sight could not provide. There was very little breeze to feel, and the leaves of the trees were hanging limp in the fragrant night air. Trent stood in the darkness, silently adjusting his knife and handgun. He would leave the rifle. This would be close work.
He glanced toward Katie’s bedroll, wishing he could run his hand through her hair, or kiss her one more time before he left. But he knew he couldn’t. Silence was the key now. It was time to go, and Gunny knew he would be coming. With a slight rustle in the grass, he faded into the forest.
13
Dawn was still an hour away, and Trent had been completely around the campsite twice. He was beginning to have his first doubts. Maybe he’d guessed wrong. Maybe Gunny was long gone as Cruz thought.
Kneeling by a giant boulder that afforded his back some protection, he stared into the darkness. His senses were like raw nerves, reaching and touching everything, analyzing every sound and smell in the night air. He’d about given up when he felt it.
There was a change in the darkness, subtle and soundless, with a faint odor of sweat and leather. He moved his head, testing the faint breeze, trying to get some kind of direction from a sense only the animals of the forest would understand. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end, and his breathing was shallow and silent. He was not alone.
It was total darkness all around, and the night felt ominous and foreboding. He carefully shifted his feet, and then froze as he inadvertently made a small scrunching sound. A blade swished through the darkness, hanging up on his buckskins before slicing into his leg.
He immediately retaliated, lashing out with his other leg, and feeling the satisfying thump as he connected. The two men came together in the darkness, grunting and straining, both trying for a knee to the groin at the same time, as they groped for the other’s knife hand. Over-balanced by the action, they hit the ground rolling, with Trent slashing his knife across Gunny’s chest. Suddenly Gunny was up and gone, leaving Trent crouched in the weeds, breathing heavily, nearly deaf to the night sounds from the pounding in his ears. Trent took a long, deep, silent breath, forcing his breathing to slow down.
He hadn’t heard Gunny coming and didn’t hear him leave. Trent shifted his position, pulling a long piece of cloth from his pouch. Knotting it tightly around the cut on his leg, his hand slipped on the bloody cloth and hit a bush next to him.
A stab of flame exploded in the darkness and a three-round burst plowed through the bushes. Gunny had fired at the first sound he heard. Trent rolled from his position and down into a run-off ditch, lined with tree roots and rocks. There was a burning across his left forearm from one of the bullets. As soon as his feet hit the rocks, another burst went over his head into the trees. He palmed his gun, but held his fire, temporarily blind from the muzzle flashes in the darkness.
“Trent?” Gunny’s voice carried softly in the night. “You better leave, boy. You’ll not catch me out here.”
He didn’t reply. Taking a ball of string from his pouch, he tied one end to a small rock. Leaning another rock against this one, he started moving softly around to his right, trailing the string behind him. Maybe. Just maybe.
“Not talking?” Gunny chuckled. “Come on. Surely you have questions?”
He pulled the string hard. The tumbling rocks made a sharp click in the night and Gunny instantly fired. Trent palmed his gun and fired into the muzzle flash of Gunny’s rifle. The muzzle of the gun flew up in the air, spitting flame into the night sky. Seconds later, he was there, but Gunny was gone. Picking up Gunny’s rifle, he melted back into the forest to wait for dawn.
14
Katie was stalking around the small fire Cruz had started. He’d warned her to stay back from the fire, just in case, but she paid little heed. “We should go out and help, Chico. We have to do something.”
“Where would we go?” Chico knew what she was feeling, and felt it himself. But he knew the risks.
In the distance, they suddenly heard the clattering sound of an AK-47, with three spaced shots following close behind.
Cruz stood with his head cocked to the side, listening intently. “We’ll go out when it’s light, Katie. Right now, Trent only has to worry about himself. If we went out now, it would be a disadvantage for him.”
She relented. “Daybreak then. Is that coffee ever going to be ready?” She looked up, startled as someone was limping into camp. “Cruz! Look out!”
15
The Watcher stood on high ground, his stocky body easily taking the weight of the tall blond-headed woman. It had been so easy. After all, they were not really woodsmen. They thought he was Trent coming back to the camp. Now he had the girl. Now the man would have to come. The Watcher’s interest was piqued when far below he saw the man come into the camp. It brought back another memory of seeing Trent come into another clearing long ago. Difference was… now he had Trent’s woman. Again.
16
Trent stood at the edge of the small clearing, fighting the impulse to run headlong into the camp. A small amount of smoke was rising from under the steaming coffeepot. His rifle still leaned against his pack and other gear. Lying next to the fire was Chico, appearing at first glance to be asleep—except for the red stain on the earth under his head. Trent still didn’t move. Silently he stood in the shadows, eyes probing every possible hiding place around the perimeter of the glade. Finally, he stepped into the clearing, reading the story in the scuffled dirt around the fire.
Katie was gone.
“Gunnyyyyyyy….” His voice rocked the mountainside. Anger and frustration tore from his vocal chords in primeval sound, lashing its way up the mountainside toward his foe. “I’m coming for you.”