happening below, where raised
voices showed there was no agreement between the freighters and those holding the gate. Merlin
had heard of folks closing roads long in common use and charging tolls, but this far from
anywhere he'd never expected to see it.
Apparently neither had the freighters. They'd already paid their tolls at the bridges and at
Beavertail Canyon.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and gave a dove call, then another.
I sure hope Murphy knows they've moved to the lowlands for the winter.
Ahead of him, Murphy stilled, then turned his head. When he saw Merlin, he motioned
him forward.
"Sure am glad to see you," Murphy whispered when they lay side by side. "How's your
ammunition?"
"Enough to take care of them, if I get clear shots. How about you?"
"No reloads."
A shot from below had them both hunkering down. When Merlin cautiously raised his
head, he saw one of the teamsters lying on the ground beside his wagon.
"That does it," Murphy said. "Cover me." He went across the slope at a fast crawl, until
he was just above the gate. Merlin crept ahead to a rocky outcrop and wedged himself behind it.
If he bent just right at the hips, he could get a bead on the rifleman farthest from the gate. Not
good enough. He clawed his way uphill and found a good rest under a young fir tree. Murphy
wasn't in sight, but every one of the gatekeepers were. The two behind the gate were screened by
shrubs, so he doubted he'd get either one with a single shot.
Again he called, and a real gruff-spoken owl answered. Holding back his laughter,
Merlin checked again to make sure he could get every one of the men in his sights. He drew bead
on the last one. Shot. Went on to the next. Shot again. He missed that time, but not the next. By
the time he'd taken down the third man, the other two lay in the dirt. He got to his feet and
half-leapt, half ran down the hillside.
The teamsters had clambered from their wagons. Two of them were tending to the driver
who'd been shot. Adolph was sitting on the ground, holding a kerchief to his bleeding shoulder,
the rest were clustered around the would-be toll collectors.
He shouldered his way into the nearest group. "They still alive?" He'd aimed at
shoulders and legs, not chests or guts.
"Not for long," the big Swede said. "We kill 'em quick." He brandished a long-bladed
knife.
"No, keep them alive. Let the law handle them."
"Law? What law? There ain't no law hereabouts," another said.
Murphy pushed between two teamsters. "The three you shot are alive. Did you do that on purpose?"
"I only kill what I'm likely to eat, given a choice."
"He's right," Murphy told the teamsters. "They could've killed Handley, but they didn't.
We'll take 'em to Alder Gulch, let the law there handle them." He motioned Merlin to step
outside the cluster. "You're a better shot than me. I gut-shot one."
They both knew what that meant. Merlin grimaced. "Just luckier. What are we going to
do with him."
Murphy's expression was grim. "Give him a pistol with one bullet. His choice."
"What if he turns it on you?" Merlin couldn't help but ask.
Their shared grins were not amused.
Camp was made where they stood. Some of the teamsters tore the fence down and used
it for firewood. One who claimed to have doctoring experience, patched up Adolph and Handley,
along with the four likely-to-survive bandits. He was less than gentle.
Cal came riding up, leading Cap and Bul, about the time the fence had come down. The
first thing Merlin did was dig more cartridges out of his pack and reload his rifle. He made sure
there were enough in his pocket to reload twice. No telling when they'd run into more
ruffians.
"I saw you shoot. Will you teach me how?" Cal said as they were unloading Cap.
"You don't have a rifle."
"I will someday." She looked so hopeful, he had to smile.
"Yes, I'll teach you to shoot." He held up a hand. "After we get to where we're going.
I'm not going to waste ammunition until I know I can get more."
"Does
voices showed there was no agreement between the freighters and those holding the gate. Merlin
had heard of folks closing roads long in common use and charging tolls, but this far from
anywhere he'd never expected to see it.
Apparently neither had the freighters. They'd already paid their tolls at the bridges and at
Beavertail Canyon.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and gave a dove call, then another.
I sure hope Murphy knows they've moved to the lowlands for the winter.
Ahead of him, Murphy stilled, then turned his head. When he saw Merlin, he motioned
him forward.
"Sure am glad to see you," Murphy whispered when they lay side by side. "How's your
ammunition?"
"Enough to take care of them, if I get clear shots. How about you?"
"No reloads."
A shot from below had them both hunkering down. When Merlin cautiously raised his
head, he saw one of the teamsters lying on the ground beside his wagon.
"That does it," Murphy said. "Cover me." He went across the slope at a fast crawl, until
he was just above the gate. Merlin crept ahead to a rocky outcrop and wedged himself behind it.
If he bent just right at the hips, he could get a bead on the rifleman farthest from the gate. Not
good enough. He clawed his way uphill and found a good rest under a young fir tree. Murphy
wasn't in sight, but every one of the gatekeepers were. The two behind the gate were screened by
shrubs, so he doubted he'd get either one with a single shot.
Again he called, and a real gruff-spoken owl answered. Holding back his laughter,
Merlin checked again to make sure he could get every one of the men in his sights. He drew bead
on the last one. Shot. Went on to the next. Shot again. He missed that time, but not the next. By
the time he'd taken down the third man, the other two lay in the dirt. He got to his feet and
half-leapt, half ran down the hillside.
The teamsters had clambered from their wagons. Two of them were tending to the driver
who'd been shot. Adolph was sitting on the ground, holding a kerchief to his bleeding shoulder,
the rest were clustered around the would-be toll collectors.
He shouldered his way into the nearest group. "They still alive?" He'd aimed at
shoulders and legs, not chests or guts.
"Not for long," the big Swede said. "We kill 'em quick." He brandished a long-bladed
knife.
"No, keep them alive. Let the law handle them."
"Law? What law? There ain't no law hereabouts," another said.
Murphy pushed between two teamsters. "The three you shot are alive. Did you do that on purpose?"
"I only kill what I'm likely to eat, given a choice."
"He's right," Murphy told the teamsters. "They could've killed Handley, but they didn't.
We'll take 'em to Alder Gulch, let the law there handle them." He motioned Merlin to step
outside the cluster. "You're a better shot than me. I gut-shot one."
They both knew what that meant. Merlin grimaced. "Just luckier. What are we going to
do with him."
Murphy's expression was grim. "Give him a pistol with one bullet. His choice."
"What if he turns it on you?" Merlin couldn't help but ask.
Their shared grins were not amused.
Camp was made where they stood. Some of the teamsters tore the fence down and used
it for firewood. One who claimed to have doctoring experience, patched up Adolph and Handley,
along with the four likely-to-survive bandits. He was less than gentle.
Cal came riding up, leading Cap and Bul, about the time the fence had come down. The
first thing Merlin did was dig more cartridges out of his pack and reload his rifle. He made sure
there were enough in his pocket to reload twice. No telling when they'd run into more
ruffians.
"I saw you shoot. Will you teach me how?" Cal said as they were unloading Cap.
"You don't have a rifle."
"I will someday." She looked so hopeful, he had to smile.
"Yes, I'll teach you to shoot." He held up a hand. "After we get to where we're going.
I'm not going to waste ammunition until I know I can get more."
"Does
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