Page 86 of Dark Sky

Joe stepped carefully from rock to rock until he was on the other bank. The far slope was steep, but rocks and brush poked through the light carpet of snow.

“Stay in my footsteps,” Joe whispered.

He climbed the slope, hopping on top of rocks and in the middle of squat brush. It wasn’t easy, but it didn’t leave a trail in the snow, he hoped. Price kept up as they climbed.

Joe’s heart beat with exertion and terror as he ascended the slope. Behind him and up the mountain, he heard another branch snap and then the unmistakable sound of a metal horseshoe glancing off a rock.

He hated going in the wrong direction when the best and fastest route to a trailhead was straight down the mountain, following the creek. But if they kept going that way, he knew, they would soon be overrun.

Joe clawed his way through a dense mountain juniper bush just below the tree line. When he emerged on the other side, he turned and helped Price. He could smell the sharp scent of juniper berries they’d crushed or dislodged.

Joe hunkered down behind the bush and tried to breathe deeply and normally so he wouldn’t make loud panting sounds.

Within minutes, he heard the soft thump of horse hooves making footfalls below where they’d just been. He cursed the stillness and wished there was a breeze to provide some cover and white noise, because it sounded like the horses were just thirty to forty yards away in the stillness.

Joe reached out and pressed his gloved hand on the top of Price’s head to urge him to keep down. Then he removed his hat and slowly rose on his haunches to get a better sight angle on the creek.

The ghostly dark shapes of two horsemen passed by below them, parallel to the nameless creek. The man out front wasbulkier and Joe guessed it was Earl. The second rider slumped over oddly in his saddle. It was Kirby. Kirby looked as though he was either hurt or fighting sleep. Joe hoped it was the former.

Twenty yards behind them, the unmistakable mass of Brad Thomas appeared, leading a line of packhorses. Toby was second from the last in Brad’s string. The gelding walked along dutifully, but Joe could tell Toby wasn’t liking it by the way his horse kept his head bowed.

There’s our stuff, Joe thought.There’s my horse.I wonder where Joannides went?

Kirby was upright on his saddle, but Joe thought he could detect a slight wobble in him as he rode, as if his bones had softened. JoeknewBrad had been hit in the face by the .22 bullet he’d fired.

For a moment, Joe thought about raising the rifle and taking a shot at Earl. But what if he missed? Or what if the cartridge was another dud? Earl’s head was hard to see in the darkness, and as Joe thought about it the man passed out of view behind a snow-covered spruce tree. Kirby followed him and was soon out of clear sight as well.

But there was Brad, just about to ride his big draft horse across a patch of snow glowing with starlight that would frame him perfectly for a second or two. If Joe shot Brad again and Brad fell, the packhorses with their weapons and gear might be available to catch, he thought. Joe didn’t know if he could scramble down the slope fast enough to get to his weapons before Earl and Kirby turned and came back, but it just might be worth the risk. Even if he couldn’t get down there, thinningthe immediate threat from three men to two could change the dynamics of the situation. Earl and Kirby would have to contend with how to deal with the severely wounded or dead body of Brad and the string of horses. That was in addition to hunting down Price and Joe.

Joe weighed the odds, then raised the rifle and cocked it and pressed the stock against his cheek.

“What are you doing?” Price whispered.

Because of the darkness, it was hard to see the blade of the front sight to line it up with the slot in the back site, Joe found. But when aligned, and his aim settled on Brad’s head and neck area, he let his breath out slowly and squeezed the trigger.

Snap.

The cartridge was another dud.

Joe peered down the rifle sites at Brad, who’d cocked his head at the sound.

Joe thought,It’s over now.

But Brad didn’t react further. He looked up the slope in Joe’s direction and then up the facing slope without spurring his horse or reaching for his shotgun. He wasn’t alarmed. And he continued to slowly ride alongside the creek.

Either Brad hadn’t heard the sound of the misfire, or he’d heardsomethingbut had no idea what it was. He rode on.

Joe sat back with his heart beating in his ears. He closed his eyes and was grateful things hadn’t gone horribly wrong. Price, to his credit, seemed to realize what had just happened, but he didn’t say a word.

After a minute, Joe said, “Okay, that cartridge didn’t work.They’re all old. But we’re fortunate the Thomases passed right by and we bought some time.”

“Where do we go from here?”

Joe chinned toward the timber above them. “Back over the top into the drainage we started out in. They’ll figure it out at some point when they don’t find any tracks, but at least for a while they won’t be breathing down our necks.”

Price nodded dutifully and rolled to his feet. He moaned as he did so. “This is like a nightmare that won’t end,” he said.

“How’s your shoulder?”

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