" Last I saw of him was down yonder."
"Yeah, but he isn't there no more."
"Maybe you got him, Morgan."
"I missed. I saw bark fly off a tree when I had my best shot at him."
"Heard his shotgun go off twice, then a pistol."
"He's had plenty of time to reload."
"I'll make a circle. I'll be off to your left, so don't take a shot at me."
Frank closed his eyes when a wave of fresh pain from his shoulder raced through him. "Don't worry, Buck. I won't shoot unless I know what I'm shooting at."
The old man moved off into the woods.
Frank spoke to Dog. "Find him for me, Dog, but be real careful about it."
Dog padded away from the pine trunk with his tail in the air, his nose lifted for scent. Frank hid behind the tree, wondering how many more men Pine and Vanbergen had with them in Ghost Valley.
"We've already taken on a small army," he whispered to himself.
Frank watched Dog move lower. Then suddenly the animal stopped.
"There he is," Frank whispered, and moved away from the ponderosa as silently as he could.
* * * *
He found the man he'd been looking for ... the gunman's derby lay in the snow behind his head. But what puzzled Frank most was the crude arrow sticking in the gunslick's ribs.
"What the hell is this?" Frank asked himself softly, taking a closer look at the feathered arrow, and the circle of blood around the dead man.
He gave the trees around him a closer examination. Only an Indian, perhaps one of the Old Ones, could have killed the gunman coming after him with an arrow.
"I thought Buck said they were peaceful."
Frank moved away when Dog gave no indication that anyone was close by.
Taking quick stock of his situation, he crept farther down the steep descent with his rifle ready when he felt sure it was safe to continue. A quarter of a mile away, on the valley floor, he saw snow-clad buildings, the ghost town where his son was being held for ransom.
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*Twenty-nine*
Victor Vanbergen took a peek out the door of the shack. "I heard that rifle fire twice," he said to Ned Pine. "I'm tired of sittin' here. That bastard Huling will doublecross us if he gets a chance. That could've been his gun, an' now he's got his hands on all that money. He's got a rifle booted to that saddle of his. Wasn't no shotgun I heard a minute ago, but it damn sure coulda been Huling's rifle."
"What do you aim to do?" Ned asked.
"I'm goin' up there myself to kill Morgan. Or Cletus Huling, if he's tryin' to steal our money. A man can't trust a bounty hunter like Huling. Hell, he killed his own partner, Diego Ponce, on the way up here. You can't trust a sorry son of a bitch like him."
"Maybe Ken an' Harry got both Huling an' Morgan in a cross fire. That coulda been the shots we heard just now, if you think about it."
"I ain't leaving nothin' to chance. You boys keep an eye on that kid. Somethin' don't feel right this mornin'. When I get an itch that don't scratch right, I feel it all the way down to my bones."
"Be careful, Vic," Ned warned. "Morgan's got hisself a partner. We already know that, so don't take no chances bein' out in the open."
"I don't give a damn about taking a few chances. I'm tired of all this waitin' while our boys get killed off. Wait here till I get back."
Ned edged closer to the door. "How do we know you won't run out on us if you find that loot yourself, Victor? That's a helluva lot of money."
Vanbergen wheeled toward Pine and clawed for his gun, but Ned was faster, snaking out his Colt just a fraction sooner than Victor.
"You son of a bitch!" Victor cried.
Ned fired a thundering bullet into Victor's chest, sending him rolling out the door of the cabin into the snow with his legs kicking furiously. A dark stain spread around him as his pistol fell from his hand.
"How come you to do that?" a gunslick asked from inside the shack, standing behind the Browning boy as the echo of the gunshot, trapped inside the tiny cabin, faded away until all was quiet.
"He went for his gun first," Ned said, watching Victor squirm beyond the doorway. "I ain't takin' no shit off nobody in this deal. When a man tries to double-cross me, he'll pay for it with his life."
"Jesus, Ned. He was your partner...."
"A man ain't got many partners when it comes to money. I had to kill him. I never did trust Victor all the way. There was somethin' about him."
"But he was on our side."
"Not anymore. He's on his backside now. Won't be long until he's dead."
"I ain't so sure that was smart, Ned."
Ned turned to the gunman who spoke to him. "What ain't smart is for you to keep runnin' your mouth, or you'll wind up just as dead as Victor. I'll kill you same as I did him unless you keep your mouth closed."
"Yessir. I was only thinkin' out loud about what you just done."
"You ain't smart enough to do no thinkin'. Just keep your mouth shut an' do what I tell you to do."
"Yessir, Boss. Whatever you say."
"I'm gonna take a look around," Ned said, shouldering into his coat.
"What the hell do we do with this kid if you don't come back?"
Ned gave the pair of gunmen inside the cabin a final look before he walked outside. "Kill the little son of a bitch, for all I care."
"You ain't gonna run out on us if you get your hands on that money, Ned?" It was the half-breed who spoke.
"Are you accusin' me?" Ned snapped.
"No ... I ain't, but I was just wonderin'."
"Stop your goddamn wondering. Keep an eye on this door and an eye on the kid. Wait for me till I get back."
"What about Victor?" the other hired gun asked. "He ain't dead yet."
Ned glanced down at Vanbergen. "Won't take him long. I shot him in just the right place."
"Damn, Ned. That was cold-blooded."
"He went for his gun against me. Take a good look outside. This is what happens to any son of a bitch who pulls a gun on Ned Pine. Remember that, boys."
Ned trudged off across the snow to fetch his horse, ignoring the soft cries of his former partner as the man lay dying in front of the shack.
* * * *
Rays of early morning light slanted into the shed where they kept their horses while Ned saddled his black gelding. Long shadows fell away from pines around the corral. It was the time of day when a man's eyes were tested, he thought, when a man was not quite sure of what he saw.
And when he looked across the valley floor, he saw a sight that made him wonder about his eyes. It looked like an Indian aboard a piebald pony was half hidden in a clump of trees on one of the slopes.
Ned wasn't worried about a lone Indian. He led his horse out of the corral, tightened the cinch strap, and mounted up to ride south, toward the gunshots they'd heard a few minutes after dawn.
He looked over his shoulder at Victor while he collected his reins. Ned had brought a sudden end to a five-year partnership when he drew his pistol just now, but it was the price Victor had to pay for reaching for his own gun.
"So long, Vic," Ned said, putting a spur to his black horse.
He rode off, preparing himself for a test against the gunfighting skills of Frank Morgan.
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*Thirty*
Frank heard someone behind him. He whirled around in spite of the pain in his shoulder, wondering who was slipping up on his backside.