The End of the Trail (13 page)

The road led directly south along the western edge of the wide flat valley, skirting the base of the mountains which rose sheer and awesome above timberline on the right.

It was a crisp, clear autumn day with the temperature well down near zero but the bright Colorado sunlight kept them warm and comfortable as they rode along.

It was almost noon when Ezra pointed out to Pat and Sam that they were being followed.

“See that mite of dust back yonder.” He stood in his stirrups and pointed back the way they had come. “I bin watchin' it the last coupla hours an' it stays right there. Don't get no closer an' no fu'ther back.”

Both Pat and Sam looked back but couldn't see any dust. However, they were too accustomed to such manifestations of keen eyesight on Ezra's part that neither of them questioned his assertion.

Pat asked, “What do you make out it is?”

“One rider,” Ezra said promptly. “Stayin' back the same distance from us … gaugin' his speed by the way we're travelin'.”

“How could he, so far back?” scoffed Pat. “If Sam an' me can't see his dust, how can he see ours?”

“'Cause we're kickin' up ten times as much as he is,” Ezra retorted.

Pat shrugged it off and reminded him, “Nothin' too funny about that. We're moving along at a good jogtrot. Anybody else followin' this same road would be likely to hold the same gait. This road goes on through to Salida, you know.”

“I know,” Ezra responded non-committally. “It's still my guess somebody's pacin' us so's not tuh get too clost.”

“Tell you how we kin find out for shore,” Sam put in with a glance at the sun. “It's a good half hour early for a mid-day stop. If we pull up right now to eat dinner, we kin see if he stops too an' then starts again when we do.”

Pat agreed it was a good idea to find out for sure, and they pulled up on the bank of the next small stream they reached.

Pat and Sam unsaddled the horses and tethered them to roll and graze while Dock gathered dry sticks for a fire and Ezra put the blackened coffee pot on to boil. They had cold meat and bread for food, but the trail-wise trio never made an eating stop without taking time to boil up a cup of coffee.

As soon as Ezra had his pot on the fire, he stepped out to the side and studied their back-trail long and earnestly. None of the others could see anything at all, but after a time Ezra turned with a satisfied nod and reported, “Our friend has stopped too. And,” he added significantly, “he's makin' a cold stop out of it. Ain't botherin' with no fire. Which means he needn't of stopped at all less'n he didn't want tuh get too clost to us.”

Pat said, “That settles it, I guess.” He looked around and spied a thick clump of juniper just off the road a hundred yards ahead. “I'll lead my hawse over yonder an' tie him behind them trees where he can't be seen. When you-all ride on after dinner, I'll stay there an' wait for him to come along. This distance, he won't miss one man when you start up again.”

“Can I stay with you, Dad?” Dock asked eagerly.

“You'll ride on with the others. How's the cawfee, Ezra? Boiled up yet?”

“She's beginnin' tuh sing,” Ezra grunted.

“Why can't I stay with you, Dad? Gee! maybe there'll be some shootin'. Who do you reckon it is?”

“That's why you can't stay,” Pat told him. “I dunno who 'tis but we won't be long findin' out.”

The coffee boiled up and Ezra snatched it from the fire before it overflowed the pot. He raked a few coals out to the side and set the pot on them to simmer, gave Dock a cup and told him to fetch a cup of cold water from the creek.

The men squatted around and made themselves cold sandwiches of biscuit and meat, and when Dock brought the water, Ezra poured it over the coffee to settle the grounds.

When they were done eating they lolled on the ground and rolled cigarettes to accompany their second cups of coffee, and Ezra got up again to study the backward trail.

“That settles it,” he asserted. “Our friend ain't moved a step. He's waitin' till we go on.”

Pat said, “Yo're prob'ly right.” He drained his cup and got up to saddle his horse, led him up to the clump of junipers and tied him securely out of sight.

The others got ready swiftly and soon trotted past him down the road. Dock glanced back wistfully over his shoulder as they went by, but dutifully said nothing.

Pat settled himself comfortably against the sunny side of a boulder to wait. He figured it would be half an hour before the pursuing horseman would be close enough for recognition, and he relaxed and thought about the job lying ahead of them.

The tough part of the trip was right ahead of them now. He wasn't at all sure they would succeed in finding a route across the Divide where so many others had failed in the past. If they didn't, they'd be forced to ride on to Salida and catch the Sanctuary Flat train there. In that case, he decided, he would send Dock back from Salida. The boy could ride the narrow gauge to Pueblo, and catch a train to Hopewell Junction from there. He'd have to fix up some story for Dock to tell Sally if he did that. Something to keep her from guessing the truth. He decided he could have Dock tell her they were riding the train into Sanctuary Flat to tackle the route from that end, and he was sending the boy back so he wouldn't lose too much time out of school.

Pat sincerely hoped it wouldn't be necessary to change his plans that way. It was quite evident to him that the two previous investigators who had ridden the train into Sanctuary Flat and been murdered after their arrival, had been marked for death by coming that way. He was determined to make a real effort to top the Divide on horseback to avoid that mistake of his predecessors.

He lazily smoked two cigarettes down to soggy butts before getting up and moving around to the edge of the junipers where he could look out along the back-trail without being seen.

He smiled grimly when he did so. Ezra had called the turn again. The big fellow's ability to sense these things beyond the ken of ordinary men was amazing.

For a lone rider was jogging along toward him about a mile distant. The passage of time proved that the stranger must have started up just about when the rest of Pat's party started, after stopping for noon exactly when they did.

He was a short slender man, wearing a big white Stetson with a curled brim, a tight-fitting sheepskin jacket, with a red bandanna knotted about his throat. He was riding a stocky bay pony that plodded along at an even gait, and Pat's eyes narrowed as the rider drew nearer.

It was quite evident that he didn't carry any sort of pack behind his saddle, not even saddle-bags, nor did he appear to be armed at all.

Both these facts were curious under the circumstances. This section of the Rockies was isolated and remote, with no ranchhouses within a day's ride in any direction, and any rider heading toward Salida on this road would have to expect to spend at least one night in the open. Without any bedroll or even an extra blanket behind his saddle, a night in the open at this altitude meant almost sure death from exposure.

And his lack of even a six-gun was doubly curious. Pat didn't know a single waddie in that entire region who wouldn't feel half undressed if caught out without at least one gun.

He drew back behind the fringe of thick green junipers, and then walked to where his horse was tied.

He mounted and rode away from his place of concealment as the rider was passing abreast of the trees on the road below.

The stranger turned with a start of astonishment when he heard the hoofs of Pat's horse a hundred feet away.

Pat stared at the thin white face beneath the big hat in angry amazement. It wasn't a he! It was a she. It was Lily Lytell. The dance-hall girl who had left a trace of perfume behind her in his hotel room last night.

She reined her horse up to wait for him. A nervous smile made her look pathetic and frightened. She stammered, “I—I didn't know …”

“Didn't know we'd catch you followin' us, huh?” Pat grated.

“I didn't mean for you to know.” She lifted her chin bravely. “You can't stop me.”

Below the sheepskin jacket she wore a man's blue jeans and a pair of tiny high-heeled boots. She looked small and frail, but an indomitable spirit burned in the big eyes that met his squarely.

“This ain't no trip for a woman,” Pat protested. “I told you that last night.”

“You don't need to worry about me. I can take care of myself all right.”

“You'll freeze at night without a bedroll.”

“I can build a fire to keep warm,” she told him spunkily.

“You'd better head back to Fairplay, Miss Lily. You can make it by night.”

Tears appeared in her eyes. She rubbed them away angrily with the back of her hand. “I'm not going back. I can't. I quit my job and spent every cent I've saved up to buy this horse and saddle.”

“I'll give you money to live at the hotel until we can send some word back from yore uncles.”

“No. I won't take your money. I'm going to ride along behind.”

Pat sighed. He said, “Yo're makin' it right tough on me, Miss.” He hesitated, then went on gruffly, “Come on, then. Can that hawse of yores hit a lope for a few miles till we catch up with the others?”

Her face became radiant. She nodded and clapped her heels into her bay's ribs. Pat set his horse to a lope beside her, and they swiftly overtook the leading party.

Dock was bringing up the rear as usual, and he was the first one they reached. As they loped up, Pat could see him turned in the saddle watching their approach wonderingly.

The look of wonderment turned to one of incredulity when they were close enough for Dock to see that his father's companion was a woman.

Pat slowed to a trot as they reached Dock's side, and said, “You two said howdy to each other last night but you didn't get introduced proper. This here is Miss Lily, Dock. She's bent on ridin' with us an' I guess there ain't no way to stop her.”

Lily laughed and said, “Maybe I can help you herd the horses along, Dock.”

“Right now, yo're going to ride up with me where I can see Sam an' Ezra bustin' with curiosity. Come on.” Pat spurred his mount up and they circled around the small trail-herd to the two riders in front.

Ezra's scarred face wore the funniest expression Pat had ever seen when he recognized Lily. He goggled at her with his one eye and his jaw dropped open and he couldn't say a word.

“Don't be gettin' any crazy ideas,” Pat warned him. “Miss Lily didn't follow us because she couldn't bear to let you get out of her sight. She's dead-set on meetin' up with them outlaw uncles of hers, an' she thinks we'll maybe lead her to 'em.”

He grinned at Sam Sloan and went on, “Meet Miss Lily Lytell, Sam. The Runyon brothers are her uncles an' she came all the way from Chicago to Fairplay to find 'em. She don't think they're outlaws, or that she can reform 'em, or somethin' like that.”

Sam pulled off his hat and mumbled something under his breath. His leathery dark face had a stricken look.

“I don't see nothin' but to let her ride with us,” Pat explained grimly. “She's a stubborn gal an' I don't know how to get rid of her short of shootin'. We can divide up our blankets an' make a bedroll for her, I reckon, an' she says she'll take the cookin' off yore hands, Ezra.”

The red-headed giant's face turned a bright scarlet. He muttered, “It'll be a pleasure, Ma'm,” but Sam broke in to demand:

“Do yuh mean we're goin' after the Runyons after all?”

“Not
after
'em. Thought we might take a look up Snowslide Canyon an' see what Ezra makes of them disappearin' tracks. Looks like the only way we'll get rid of her is to put her on the owlhoot trail her uncles are followin'.”

Up to this time Lily had been nervously listening without uttering a word. Now she said, “I knew you'd help me. And I promise you one thing: If they
are
outlaws and have done all the things the people in Fairplay say about them, I'll come back and tell you. And then you can … go on and collect the reward.”

Pat said flatly, “If they are outlaws, I don't reckon they'll let you come back, Miss. Niece or no niece. But if yo're plumb set on takin' a chance, we'll help all we can.” He gestured ahead and asked Ezra, “Ain't that where we turn off up into Snowslide Canyon right yonder?”

“Yep. That's where the ol' stage road usta run. It's ten miles up to where thuh slide blocked it off.”

“Time enough to get there before dark,” Sam muttered with a glance at the sun.

“I'll drop back and ride with Dock,” Lily offered hesitantly. “I don't want to be in the way at all. I want to help.”

Pat nodded and told her gravely, “Might set better with Mrs. Sloan an' my wife if Dock was to tell 'em you rode back with him.”

Sam Sloan let out a long whistle of amazed admiration when the girl had dropped back out of hearing. “Where'd you-all meet up with
her?”

“Ezra danced all over her feet in Happy Jack's last night while you were gamblin'.”

“I didn't step on her but a few times,” Ezra protested.

“She's got plenty of nerve,” Sam said quietly after Pat had told them both about her visit to his room last night, and repeated what she had told him back at the clump of junipers. “Pore kid! S'pose we
do
lead her up to where she kin find them murderin' uncles of hers? What then? We goin' to keep on ridin' an' let her take her chances with them?”

“That's exactly what we're going to do. I don't reckon they'll hurt a woman, no matter how mean they are. An' here's where we turn off,” Pat went on. “Here's the old road turnin' up the canyon an' you can see the fresh tracks of the posse that followed the outlaws up an' then roae back without 'em.”