After a long few minutes, Pettibone said, "I'll fight if they don't surrender."
"You just have that shotgun cocked and ready. In your mind, figure to unload both barrels. Otherwise, you're a dead man. Mark my words, Pettibone. The outlaws we are going to brace are tough, and they sure won't be willing to surrender so they can march to a gallows."
Pettibone nodded. "I guess that's probably the best way to look at it."
"It's the only way to look at it," Longarm told him.
Longarm fed the fire until it was hot, and then lay back on his blankets and drifted off to sleep wondering if he or Pettibone would survive the next day.
"Wake up," Pettibone said, jostling Longarm.
Longarm sat up out of a dead sleep and looked around. For a moment he forgot where he was, but then he spotted Pettibone. He could see that the railroad detective had rustled up and cooked some breakfast. Biscuits, salt pork, and mercy, even coffee.
"I ought to bring you along on these manhunts more often," Longarm said when he was served a heaping breakfast plate.
"Well, you complained so bad last evening about being weak and exhausted that I figured I'd better try and get your strength back if we're to have any chance of surviving the day."
Longarm glanced up from his plate. "You know, you can still back out. Just give me the loan of your shotgun and go on back to Donner Pass."
"Oh, no!" Pettibone said. "Besides, you've already got a six-gun on your hip and a Model '73 Winchester. I imagine that you're also packing some kind of hideout gun. So I just don't see that you need any more weapons. What you need is more hands, and mine will have to do."
"They'll do fine," Longarm said with a smile.
When they finished breakfast and packed their gear, they laced on the snowshoes and headed on down the trail. In less than an hour they saw the lake, shimmering like an emerald in the early morning sun.
"It's beautiful," Pettibone said. "I swear it's the prettiest sight that I've ever laid eyes upon--except for my wife."
"Of course." Longarm shielded his eyes against the rising sun. "Where is Agate Bay and the cabin?"
"Straight ahead." Pettibone replied.
Longarm followed the man on down into the volcanic basin that cupped Lake Tahoe. It was still very early and, if they were in luck, it was even possible that they could yet catch the gang asleep. Such men lived hard, and would stay up half the night drinking, playing cards, and whoring, and sleep late the next day.
Longarm hoped that was the case now. Otherwise, things were going to become very exciting indeed in the next hour.
CHAPTER 18
It was too fine a morning to die. Much too fine, Longarm decided as he advanced silently toward the cabin. He and Pettibone had already circled the hideout and discovered the outlaws' horses corralled back in the trees. Now it was just a matter of getting the drop on this bunch before they had time to wake up and mount any form of resistance.
Pettibone was advancing on the cabin from the opposite side, and it was decided that Longarm would be the first one through the door, going low, while the railroad detective would come in standing up with his double-barreled shotgun ready to roar.
Longarm's heart was pounding as he stepped up to the cabin and placed his hand on the doorknob. He listened for any sign that the gang was awake, but heard nothing but snoring.
"Are you ready?" he whispered to Pettibone.
Pettibone gripped the shotgun in his fists and nodded.
Longarm turned the knob in his left hand, and when it was open a crack, he hefted his Winchester in his left hand while his right hand clenched his six-gun. Very slowly, he eased the door open, took a quick step inside, and dropped to one knee.
"Everyone freeze!" he bellowed. "You're under arrest!"
It was dim in the cabin. Too dim to see anything but shadows and silhouettes. But not too dim to detect movement. The outlaws all went for their guns. The entire room exploded with panic and gunfire. Longarm felt a bullet graze his neck and he flattened, gun belching bullets and fire. Behind him he heard Pettibone grunt, and knew the man was hit even as the shotgun boomed twice. Pettibone tumbled back outside, and the hammer of Longarm's gun struck an empty. He dropped the weapon, dragged his Winchester up, and began to pound heavy lead into the darkness.
In moments, the interior of the cabin was filled with gunsmoke and the wails of wounded and dying men. When the return fire died, Longarm scrambled back out the door and hurried to Pettibone's side. The railroad detective had been hit by a bullet across his temple which had also ripped away the top half of his right ear. Pettibone was bleeding, but more dazed than anything.
"Don't let all that blood buffalo you," Longarm said. "You're going to live to earn a railroad citation for bravery. Reload that shotgun because we might not be finished."
Even as Longarm was speaking, Eli Wheat crashed through the cabin's lone front window. He rolled in the snow, then jumped up and sprinted toward the trees.
"Stop!" Longarm shouted, dragging his Winchester to his shoulder. "Damn you, Eli, freeze!"
But Eli didn't freeze. He spun around and fired back at Longarm, narrowly missing, probably because snow or even blood was fouling his vision. Cursing, Eli whirled and vanished into the forest running hard. Longarm had no chance to drop the killer before he disappeared.
"Listen to me, Pettibone!" Longarm yelled. "If there's anyone left alive in this cabin with a mind to escape, you've got to drop them with that shotgun. Do you understand me?"
"Yeah," Pettibone said, lowering a bloody hand from where the top of his ear had been.
When the railroad man began to reload, Longarm knew that Pettibone was going to be able to guard the cabin door and take care of himself.
"I'll be right back," he vowed before he whirled and raced after Eli.
Eli was fast and he was desperate. Wherever he crossed patches of snow, Eli left a crimson stain. Longarm knew that the man would never be taken alive. His tracks angled to the lake's shoreline. In some places, the shore was soft with mud and Eli had sunk deep but kept running. Just ahead there was a small peninsula where the pines crowded the edge of the water. When Longarm was within fifty yards of that place, Eli jumped out of the trees and opened fire.
Longarm felt a bullet whine past his face. He dove into the moss and muck alongside the lake and tried to bring his rifle to bear on Eli, but the man was gone again.
"Damn!" Longarm shouted, jumping up covered with mud and half-frozen muck. He slogged onward knowing that he made a great target.
It was not until Longarm had crossed the peninsula and broken back into the open that he saw the fugitive had commandeered a rowboat and was madly rowing across the big lake. Tahoe, unlike the much smaller and shallower Donner Lake, had not frozen, although it was rimmed by shore ice. Longarm searched in vain for another boat, and when he saw that Eli would escape, dropped to one knee and took aim at the rowboat's hull.
"Eli!" he shouted. "Turn around and row back!"
Longarm's voice carried strongly across the freezing, choppy water. "You hear me!" he yelled. "This is Deputy Custis Long and you're not getting away from me again! Now stop and row back!"
"Go to hell!" Eli screamed, oars flashing in the morning sun.
Longarm could have shot Eli, but he wanted him alive. The man was still less than three hundred yards out, but he was pulling away fast. Longarm had no choice. He fired, and saw the hull of the wooden rowboat splinter at the water line.
"Aim lower!" he muttered to himself.
His next bullet struck the waterline, ricocheted like a flat rock, and then exploded through the wooden hull. Longarm heard Eli scream as much in fury as in fear. Eli yanked off his jacket and desperately tried to plug the hole.
Longarm began to methodically riddle the rowboat. Each bullet ripped through the hull right at the waterline. He was careful not to hit Eli because he was sure that the killer would leap into the water and swim back resigned to face that Denver hangman.