"Damn it, I sent you back down the mountain!"
"I... I decided to follow you. I was afraid you'd get in trouble-"
"Oh, I'm in trouble, all right," grated Longarm. "I've got a nest full of killers sitting right in front of me and no help on the way thanks to you."
Molly's features grew tight with anger. "All I wanted to do was help!"
The conversation was being carried on in whispers. Longarm wasn't worried that their words would carry to the hard-cases he was sure were in those cabins conferring with Jared Flint. He was worried, though, that he and Molly might be spotted if there were any sentries posted around the hideout. He had planned to stay there, keeping an eye on the place until help arrived from the Diamond K. But now he knew that no help was coming. The only thing he and Molly could do was slip away as quietly as possible and return to the ranch. With luck, maybe he could still thwart whatever Flint was planning to do next.
He took hold of Molly's arm. "Come on, we've got to get back down the mountain-"
"Freeze, mister!"
The shout came from Longarm's left. He twisted in that direction, the Colt he had drawn a moment earlier still in his hand. He pulled Molly behind him, prepared to shield her body with his own. His eyes spotted the man crouched behind a rock, the rifle in his hands trained on the two of them.
"Drop that gun, you bastard!"
That yell came from the other direction, and Longarm felt his heart sinking. They were trapped in a cross fire. He might have been able to swap lead with one man and come out of the exchange alive; two men with rifles, one to each side of him, meant that he and Molly would both die if any shooting broke out. He turned his head to glance over his shoulder, and saw the second guard covering him with a Winchester from about thirty yards away. Longarm wasn't sure where either of them had been hiding until now, but that didn't really matter. What was important was that he had been spotted while he was trailing Jared Flint up here.
"Take it easy on those triggers, gents," he called out to the two outlaws as he lifted both hands, the Colt still in his right.
"Put the gun on the ground," yelled one of the men. Longarm complied with the order, bending to carefully place the Colt at his feet.
The other guard said, "Move away from it." He came out from behind the rock that had sheltered him and advanced toward Longarm and Molly, keeping the rifle trained on them. Behind him, Longarm heard the second guard approaching too. Longarm took several steps away from the Colt, and Molly moved with him.
"Custis..." she said, fear in her voice. Her arm was against his, and he could feel her trembling.
"Don't you worry," he said quietly. "We'll get out of this somehow."
He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.
"Shit, I know you," said the guard in front of them as he came closer. "You're that U.S. marshal we tried to bushwhack a couple of times." The hired killer's lips pulled back from his teeth in an ugly grimace. "You killed a couple of friends of mine, Marshal."
"They were aiming to kill me," Longarm pointed out. "I didn't have much choice."
The second man came up behind them and laughed harshly at Longarm's comment. "Sure you did," he said. "You could've just gone ahead and died and saved us all a lot of trouble."
The first guard jerked the barrel of his Winchester toward the cabins. "Come on. We'll let Flint decide what to do with the two of you... though I reckon I've got a pretty good idea what he's going to say."
"Me too," the second man put in. "I figure we're goin' to kill you, mister--and then this pretty little gal's goin' to entertain us for a while."
More than ever, Longarm wished that Molly had gone on down the mountain like he'd told her to. Now there was nothing he could do for her, for either of them, except wait and watch for an opportunity to make a desperate bid for freedom. Maybe if nothing else, they would die quickly that way. They walked ahead of the two guards across the bench toward the spring and the cabins. When they were about fifty yards away, one of the outlaws lifted his voice and shouted, "Hey, Boss, come out here and see what we found!"
The door of the largest cabin opened, and several hard-cases emerged, followed by Jared Flint. The timber man stopped short when he saw Longarm. "Damn you, Long!" he exclaimed. "You just had to keep poking around, didn't you?"
"It's my job," Longarm said coolly as he came to a stop in front of Flint and the gunmen.
"So I suppose you're proud of yourself now. Finally found out what you wanted to know, didn't you?"
Longarm nodded. "I reckon so. You and these fellas you hired have been behind the trouble down below all the time, haven't you?"
"Of course. That government timber contract's going to make us all rich once I'm running things."
"You're already Mrs. Mcentire's foreman. What more do you want?"
Flint snorted in contempt. "Angus Mcentire was supposed to leave me in charge of the company when he died. I never dreamed that... that woman would come in and start trying to run things."
"Rubbed you the wrong way, did it, taking orders from a woman?
Especially since she had the company doing so well?"
"It would have done even better with me in charge," said Flint. "And without Mrs. Mcentire around, there wouldn't be anybody to stop me from taking all the profits. That's just what I'll do once she finally realizes she's not cut out for life in a lumber camp."
Longarm's eyes narrowed. He had run up against his share of grandiose criminal schemes in his time, some of which could have had pretty far-reaching implications for the entire country. Not this case, though. At the heart of it was nothing more than a venal, greedy embezzler--albeit on a fairly large scale, if Flint had his way.
"If that's all you wanted," said Longarm, "why didn't you just kill her and be done with it?"
Flint shook his head. "There are some things I won't do, Marshal. I wasn't above arranging an accident so that Angus Mcentire would die, but I'm not going to murder a woman in cold blood. Besides, that still wouldn't necessarily leave me in charge of the operation. I want Mrs. Mcentire alive and trusting me--at least until I get my hands on enough loot to make it all worthwhile." One of the gunmen said, "That's enough jabberin'. Let's kill this badge-totin' skunk and be done with it." He leered. "I want to make the acquaintance o' that gal with him anyway."
"Shut up, Barcroft." Flint turned to Molly. "You're Molly Kinsman, aren't you?" he demanded.
She managed to nod, and her chin trembled only slightly as she did so. For the moment, she was holding on to her self-control with an iron grip, Longarm thought, but sooner or later that grip was going to weaken.
"Sorry you got mixed up in this, Miss Kinsman," said Flint, and he sounded as if he meant it. "Wish there was some way around what's going to have to happen, but I don't reckon there is."
Longarm knew he'd be wasting his breath if he pleaded for Molly's life. Now that she knew Flint was the mastermind, she would have to die too, though Longarm had no doubt the hired killers would keep her alive for a while before disposing of her. It wouldn't be a reprieve for her. They would take turns assaulting her until she was more dead than alive.
Flint turned to the burly gunman called Barcroft, who seemed to be the leader of these hired gunmen. "We'd better get moving," he said. "Get that dynamite loaded. I want to reach the dam just after dark."
Barcroft nodded, but instead of following Flint's orders, he jerked a thumb at Longarm and Molly. "What about them?"
"There'll be plenty of time to deal with them later. Put them in one of the cabins and leave a couple of men to guard them."
"Likely be better to kill the lawman now," said Barcroft, fingering the butt of his gun.
Flint shook his head firmly. "Not yet. I want Long to see some of what's in store for Miss Kinsman before he dies."
Longarm's jaw tightened. So Flint wasn't just an ambitious crook. He had a cruel streak in him too, a streak of pure meanness.