Fatal Justice by Ralph Compton

Author:Ralph Compton
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin USA, Inc.

Chapter 18

They were told the Fraziers rode off to the northwest so they did the same.

Ash figured the brothers would stick to the main trails for as long as they could; the going was easier. At some point they would turn off and head for wherever they had their hidey-hole, be it a cabin deep in the woods, a cave in a cliff or some other spot.

For five days Ash and his fellow killer hunters followed a trail that paralleled the Roaring Fork River. Eventually they came to a valley that wound toward Glenwood Springs.

Broken Nose constantly checked both sides, seeking sign.

Ash soon realized that they needed a stroke of luck or their hard effort would be in vain. It had been too long. He asked people they met with, miners and others, if anyone had seen any sign of three redheads on horseback and the answer was always the same: no.

The sixth night they made camp beside a small creek. They were so deep in the mountains that many of the towering peaks around them did not have names.

Ash nursed a cup of coffee and glumly regarded the ink-layered slopes. From on high wafted the howls of wolves and now and again the screech of a mountain lion.

Templeton was equally glum. “We’re not going to find them. We might as well admit it.”

“I admit nothing,” Ash said. “I refuse to give up.”

“We could search for a year and have nothing to show for it. I can’t stay out here that long. I have a ranch to run.”

“You can go home any time you like.”

Broken Nose was staring at a mountain to the north. It stood by itself and wasn’t part of a range. At its base was the junction with a trail to Glenwood Springs to the northwest and Gypsum to the northwest. “What is that light?”

“Eh?” Templeton said.

The Ute pointed. “Near the top. Do you see it?”

Ash did. A single yellow pinpoint that had to be two miles higher than they were. That they could see it at all was thanks to the clear mountain air.

“It’s not a campfire,” Templeton declared. “Flames would flicker more.”

“A lantern, maybe, or a lamp,” Ash speculated.

“A cabin, you think?” Templeton said. “But who the hell would live way up yonder?”

They looked at one another.

“It might be worth a look-see,” the rancher suggested.

Ash agreed.

At daybreak they began to climb. The going was steep, the slopes as rugged as only mountain slopes could be. Twice they had to detour on account of dead-falls and once on account of talus. By noon they were only halfway up the mountain and stopped to rest.

Broken Nose was roving about when he called Ash’s name and excitedly gestured at the ground.

Three shod horses had passed that way heading up the mountain. The tracks were old but clear.

“It could be them,” Templeton said hopefully.

“I’ll go on alone and make sure,” Ash proposed.

“Why you and not one of us?”

“As I keep having to remind you, hunting them was my brainstorm. I’m in charge.

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