Rafe cautiously moved down, snaking through the underbrush.He wondered whether he should use his rifle to warn the miner below.And then he saw the barrel of a rifle sticking through the moving bush.
Hurriedly, Rafe aimed at the barrel of the rifle below, realizing he had little chance of hitting it.He pulled the trigger just a fraction of a second before the other man shot.Rafe missed the rifle barrel but kicked up a cloud of dust.The other man’s bullet also went astray, missing the miner.
The miner below spun around, his hand going for the rifle as he darted for the cover of nearby rocks.
The unseen man took another shot at the miner, then turned the rifle upward, toward Rafe.The miner aimed his rifle upward, too, then fired at … Rafe.
The bullet winged Rafe’s arm, right where the bear had clawed him, and he dropped the rifle and clutched at the pain shooting up his arm.More shots peppered the ground around him, coming from two rifles this time.
Rafe rolled behind a boulder, damning himself, damning his luck.The miner evidently thought Rafe was his assailant.Rafe realized he should have shouted out a warning, but his first instinct had been to take the man who had been doing the killing, the man he believed was McClary.Now Rafe was pinned down.He tried to crawl toward the horse, but a bullet ricocheted off the boulder, slicing along his thigh.
He sat upright behind the rock and looked down.The miner had taken refuge behind a tree; the man below him was nowhere to be seen.
Then he heard a shout, followed by another, and the sound of hoofbeats.A lot of them.The posse!
There was no time for explanations.He heard horses scrambling up the steep incline.More shouts, orders giving directions.He looked around.There was no escape except to run out in the open toward the berry bushes where his horse was tied.He knew he wouldn’t get five feet.
He had six bullets in the Colt.He pulled it out of the holster and aimed at the closest member of the posse, but he couldn’t pull the trigger.He’d thought he could.He’d thought he could do anything to keep from going back to prison.He could have easily killed the man below him, the man who had been killing the miners and framing him.Probably he could even kill Randall.But he couldn’t kill an innocent rancher.
He thought about trying to escape and taking a bullet.But he wasn’t ready to die.He hadn’t finished his business with Randall.And there was another reason, one that he kept trying to push away.
Rafe threw out the Colt and slowly stood, both hands raised.His arm was bleeding badly, and the leg of his trousers was drenched in blood.
The men forming the posse approached cautiously, holding guns on him.One man, whose dull tin star pinned to a well-worn leather vest identified him as the sheriff, dismounted and walked cautiously toward Rafe.“The miner said there were two of you.”
“Did he also say one was firing at me?”Rafe said dryly.“I was trying to help that miner.”
“By sneaking around up here?”the sheriff said with obvious disbelief.
“Go down to that bush below,” Rafe said.“See for yourself.A man was hiding behind it.”
The sheriff shrugged.“An accomplice?”
“No, dammit: I saw him taking aim at the miner, and I fired my rifle in warning,” Rafe said, knowing his explanation was futile.
“And who are you?”the lawman asked.
Rafe hesitated.He was wearing his gloves.Once the posse saw his hand, he’d have no further chance to explain.
“Dammit,” he said.“The real gunman will get away.If he hasn’t already.”
The lawman stared at him for a long while, then looked at one of his men.“Go down and look around that bush.See if you can pick up any tracks.Take a couple of men with you.”
He turned his attention back to Rafe.“You didn’t tell me your name or what you’re doing here.”
Rafe lowered his hands.“Thinking about doing some mining, looking for a part of the stream that wasn’t taken, when I saw this fellow showing an undue interest in that miner,” he said.
“Is that so?”the sheriff asked.“Unbuckle that gunbelt and let me see your hands.”
Rafe felt his whole body tense.“Why?”
“A miner has calluses on his hand.Calluses different than those come from riding.”
“I haven’t mined much before.”
“I thought as much,” the man said.He leaned down, picked up Rate’s rifle, and checked the magazine.“One shot fired,” he said to the others.He turned back to Rafe.“Unbuckle that gunbelt.”
Rafe did as he was ordered.When the belt fell, the sheriff leaned down and picked it up, checking the number of bullets.He then picked up the pistol and spun the cylinder, finding all the bullets in place.“You could have fired at us.”
