lla.theburninghills-第10节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


d　felt　the　horse　lurch　forward；　rocks　sliding　under　his　feet。
　The　horse　scrambled；　slipped　and　fought　for　footing。　They　were　going　down　fast　but　so　far　the　red　horse　was　taking　it　well。　He　was　taking　enormous　forward　leaps　when　Jordan　heard　the　shot。
　The　harsh　bark　of　a　heavy　pistol。　。。。　then　a　second　shot；　both　fired　from　near　the　house。　Then；　above　the　echoes　of　the　shots　and　the　falling　of　rock；　he　heard　the　high　ringing　cry。　It　was　no　cry　of　fear　or　pain　but　one　filled　with　reassurance　and　hope。
　She　had　fired　to　draw　their　attention　from　him；　so　they　must　be　alerted　and　ready。
　He　plunged　down　the　last　few　feet　of　the　slide；　the　horse　scrambling　beneath　him；　and　then　they　were　at　the　bottom　and　the　big　red　horse　moved　out；　running　on　the　hard…packed　sand　and　running　free。
　Jacob　Lantz　heard　the　rocks　of　the　slide。　He　swore　softly；　remembering　the　looks　of　it。　A　man　who　would　e　down　that　in　the　night　…　！
　〃e　on；　Ben；〃　he　said。　〃He　can　only　go　up　or　down　the　canyon。　We've　got　him。〃
　
　Chapter　Three
　Ahead　of　him　the　shoulder　of　the　canyon　bulked　black　against　the　sky。　It　was　near　here　he　had　seen　the　two　riders　earlier　in　the　day。　He　slowed　his　horse；　making　only　a　small　sound　on　the　sand。　There　was　a　low　mutter　of　voices；　a　shadow　that　moved。　He　slammed　home　the　spurs　and　the　startled　horse　gave　a　convulsive　leap　forward　and　broke　into　a　gallop。
　A　startled　curse；　a　man　who　lunged　and　shouted；　a　gun　blasting　off　to　his　right　and　then　his　own　gun　smashed　sound　into　the　stone　corridor　and　sent　a　racketing　of　sound　off　down　the　limestone　cliffs。
　He　had　fired　point…blank　at　a　moving　spot　of　darkness　and　then　he　was　away；　his　horse　running　up　the　canyon　at　breakneck　speed。　Behind　him　were　other　shots　and　shouts　。。。
　Deliberately　he　slowed　his　pace。　Behind　him　he　heard　a　rush　of　horses；　startled　shouts　and　replies。　On　his　left　a　canyon　mouth　opened；　almost　choked　with　brush；　but　the　horse　found　an　opening。　Brush　slapped　at　his　face　and　clothing　as　he　pushed　through。
　High　up　the　rock　wall　moonlight　glanced　off　the　rocky　trail。　Trees　left　a　space　for　a　rider　and　he　forced　a　way　through；　finding　the　vague　trail　that　led　up　the　cliff。　Ten　minutes　later　he　was　white　in　the　moonlight　atop　the　mesa；　yet　already　they　were　behind　him　and　he　heard　hoofs　click　on　the　lower　trail。
　Swiftly　he　glanced　around。　Poised　on　the　rim　was　a　rock　as　large　as　a　piano。　He　swung　down　and　got　behind　it；　trying　its　weight　with　his　hands。
　Below　there　was　movement。　He　stooped；　took　the　strain；　paused　to　gather　strength；　then　heaved。　The　rock　tipped；　grated；　then　hung。　Overhead　was　the　moon；　his　body　smelled　of　sweat　and　dust；　his　boot　toes　gripped　the　mesa　top　。。。　the　rock　tipped；　grated；　leaned　further　out。　Alone　on　the　mesa's　rim　he　stood；　the　veins　swelling　in　his　brow；　throbbing　in　his　throat。　Suddenly　there　was　a　stabbing　pain　in　his　side　and　then　the　rock　fell　free。
　He　went　to　his　knees；　gasping；　his　mouth　wide；　feeling　the　blood　inside　his　pants；　perspiration　dripping　from　his　brow。
　The　boulder　tumbled　off　into　the　vast　blackness　below；　there　was　a　rattle　of　acpanying　gravel；　an　agonized　cry　of　animal　fear；　a　wild　scramble　and　then　the　forlorn　screams　of　a　horse　and　a　man　falling　away　into　darkness。　A　splintering　crash　then；　a　brief　chatter　of　small　stones　following　。。。　and　silence。
　Alone　on　the　cliff's　edge；　his　chest　heaving　with　effort；　he　suddenly　filled　with　some　primeval　berserk　fury　and　he　shouted；　his　voice　rolling　down　the　corridor　of　rock；　〃e　on；　damn　you！〃
　Sweating　and　trembling；　his　body　shaken　with　pain；　he　leaned　a　moment　against　the　saddle；　gathering　strength。　They　would　think　awhile　before　tihey　tried　that　path　again　this　night。　He　remembered　the　lost　lonely　cry　of　the　man　falling　off　into　space　and　death。　He　asked　for　it；　he　told　himself。　They　stole　our　horses；　they　killed　my　partner　and　they　want　to　kill　me。
　He　wanted　to　live　。。。　the　night　was　cool　and　still　as　only　a　desert　night　can　be　。。。　he　wanted　to　live　。。。　and　in　his　mind　there　was　a　memory　of　the　feel　of　a　woman's　body；　the　memory　of　her　lips；　of　her　silent　waiting；　not　fighting；　not　denying；　not　accepting。　Just　waiting。
　Over　a　mesa　white　in　the　moonlight　he　rode　steadily；　his　torn　side　a　throb　of　agony；　and　he　rode　until　the　sun　was　rising；　until　it　seemed　he　had　never　known　any　other　life　than　the　saddle；　never　anything　but　pain；　never　anything　but　flight。
　Before　him　in　the　gray　light　was　a　dull　red　finger　of　rock　and　at　its　base；　an　ancient　cottonwood；　white…limbed　and　dead。　He　pushed　his　horse　through　a　curtain　of　willows　into　a　pocket　of　rock　and　trees　almost　encircled　by　a　tiny　stream。　The　aspen　were　gray　with　morning；　the　grass　dew…wet　and　heavy　when　he　drew　rein　at　last。　An　old　rock　house　crouched　like　a　tired　hound　against　the　cliffs　face　and　there　he　slid　from　his　saddle　and　drank。
　For　a　long　time　then　he　lay　still　until　the　morning　sun　warmed　his　shoulders　and　crept　along　his　tired　muscles　and　ate　away　the　night's　chill。　He　made　coffee；　ate　some　of　the　beef　and　tortillas　and　then　he　slept。
　At　first；　when　he　awakened；　he　listened　for　a　long　time。　Birds　chirped　and　played　among　the　branches；　his　horse　cropped　grass；　the　stream　chuckled　over　its　stones。　Only　when　he　was　sure　he　was　alone　did　he　rise　and　strip　off　his　shirt。
　His　wound　had　been　torn　open　by　lifting　the　rock　but　he　bathed　it；　then　bandaged　it　again　with　the　same　cloth。　Then　from　near　the　steeple　rock　he　studied　the　trail　down　which　he　had　e　and　moved　out　to　brush　away　the　last　few　tracks。　Most　of　the　trail　was　over　bare　rock　and；　although　there　would　be　signs；　there　would　not　be　many。
　Every　hour　of　delay　was　an　hour's　gain。　Would　they　be　so　anxious　to　pursue　him　they　would　not　bother　Maria　Cristina？　There　was　hope　of　that。　In　any　event；　he　could　do　nothing。　Yet　the　men　who　had　shot　into　the　back　of　a　dying　man　would　stop　at　nothing。　They　had　started　after　him　to　avenge　Bob　Button's　death　but　now　another　man　had　died　and；　recalling　the　cry　from　the　canyon　。。。　perhaps　two。
　Trace　Jordan　searched　for　and　found　a　way　out　of　the　hiding　place。　He　found　it　late　in　the　afternoon；　a　trail　screened　by　brush　that　led　over　the　rocks　and　away　to　the　south。　He　was；　he　knew；　either　in　Mexico　now　or　close　to　the　border。　The　way　north　was　barred　to　him；　the　way　south　lay　through　Apache　country。　Yet　it　was　the　only　way　that　remained。
　The　killers　of　Johnny　Hendrix　were　among　the　pursuers；　yet　there　were　honest　cowmen　there；　too。　He　wanted　his　horses　back　and　he　wanted　the　killers　to　pay；　yet　if　he　stayed　there　would　be　no　end　to　the　killing。　Johnny　was　dead　but　the　Sutton…Bayless　outfit　had　lost　several　men。　It　was　price　enough。
　And　there　was　Maria　Cristina。。。。
　He　had　his　first　hot　meal　in　days　over　a　fire　of　dry　curl…leaf；　almost　smokeless；　back　in　the　rocks。　Yet　he　was　restless。　There　was　no　telling　what　they　might　do　to　a　girl　alone。　She　had　a　brother　but　one　man　would　be　helpless　against　that　crowd。　He　rolled　a　smoke　and　settled　back。　There　was　no　sound　of　pursuit。。。　nothing。
　Below　him　the　stream　gulped　and　fussed　among　the　rocks；　a　bird　fluttered　his　plumage。　Then　far　up　the　canyon；　a　hoof　struck　stone。
　Trace　Jordan　came　soundlessly　to　his　feet　and　took　up　his　rifle。　He　crossed　the　rocks　to　a　position　where　he　could　see　the　trail。　And　then　for　a　long　time　the　night　was　still。
　Vicente　was　at　the　table　when　Maria　Cristina　came　from　her　room。　Surprised　to　find　him　around　so　early；　she　went　past　him　to　the　fire。　Coffee　water　was　on　and　she　added　coffee。
　Vicente　looked　up　from　the　table。　〃Do　not　take　the　sheep　out。〃
　She　turned　to　look　at　him。　His　face　seemed　older　in　the　morning　light；　quieter　than　she　had　ever　remembered　it
　〃I　will　take　them；〃　he　said。
　〃You？〃　She　was　astonished。
　〃They　must　be　saved。〃
　She　stood　up　then　and　faced　him。　The　sun　was　not　yet　up　and　the　two　were　alone　in　the　room。　For　the　first　time　she　saw　the　rifle　by　his　chair　and　he　wore　an　extra　cartridge　belt　。。。　it　had　been　her　father's　belt。
　〃You　think　they　will　e　here？〃
　〃They　will　e；〃　he　said。　She　turned　from　him　and　broke　an　egg　into　the　pan；　trying　to　order　her　thoughts。　Vicente　was　different。　He　was　a　man。　She　looked　at　him；　puzzled　by　this　change　in　a　brother　she　now　felt　she　had　never　understood。
　〃I　will　take　the　sheep　to　the　Notch；〃　he　said。　〃They　will　not　look　for　them　there。〃
　This；　then；　was　what　Vicente　had　sought　to　avoid。　Now　that　it　had　e　he　was　no　longer　afraid。　Shame　filled　her。　Shame　that　she　had　doubted　him；　shame　that　hers　had　been　the　fault
　There　was　quiet　resolution　in　his　narrow　face　and　she　realized　at　last　that　he　had　never　been　afraid；　only　he　had　sought　to　avoid　an　issue　that　could　only　result　in　defeat　and　destruction　for　the　Chaveros。
　〃Vicente　。。。〃　It　was　as　near　as　she　ever　came　to　a　plea　for　understanding。　〃He　is　a　good　man。　I　could　not　let　him　die。〃
　He　took　the　eggs　from　the　pan；　a　tortilla　from　the　warm　pile　on　the　plate。　〃It　is　enough　that　you　have　a　man。〃
　She　returned　to　the　fire；　humbled　by　his　quiet　dignity。　He　would　take　die　sheep　to　the　Notch。　It　was；　of　course；　the　best　place　for　them。　The　Sutton　riders　did　not　like　sheep　but　out　of　sight　might　also　be　out　of　mind。　The　Chaveros　could　build　another　ho