Chapter 1

HE WAS ASLEEP and then he was awake. His eyes flared wide and he held himself still, staring into the darkness, his ears reaching for sound.

He could smell the dry grass on which his blankets were spread and he could smell the night. And then he heard again the sound that had awakened him. It was the stir of hoofs on the dusty trail some thirty yards away—not the sound of one horse alone, but of several horses.

Carefully, he lifted himself to one elbow. This was strange country and he was unarmed. What motives might inspire whoever was out there he could not guess, but large groups of riders do not move silently along midnight trails without adequate reason.

This was no celebrating bunch of cowhands headed for the home ranch. These men were quiet, and their very stillness was a warning. No stranger to trouble, he lay perfectly still, feeling the muscles back of his ears tighten with suspense.

They had stopped. A horse moved nervously, and then there was a voice. "Right above your head." There was a pause. "That's it."

Another and deeper voice spoke. "Lead his horse over here." There was movement, a click of hoof on stone. "Hold it."

Saddle leather creaked, easily heard in the still night air. Then that second voice came again. "There!"

The word held satisfaction, a gloating born from some dark well of hatred and rolled on the tongue as if the speaker had waited long for this moment and wished to prolong it.

"Easy with that horse!" There was harsh impatience. "Don't let him drop! Ease him down! I want him to know what he's gettin'!"

"Hurry it up!" The voice held impatience and obvious distaste. "Do it, if you're goin' to, an' let's get out of here!"

"Take it easy!" There was a snarl in the deep voice. "I'm runnin' this show an' I've waited too long for this chance. How d'you like it, Neal?"

The voice that spoke now was that of the man being hanged. He spoke coldly. "You always were a double-crossin' rat, Lud, an' you ain't changed any."

There was the sharp crack of a slap, and then the same voice spoke again. "Lucky my hands are tied, Lud. Old as I am I'd take you apart."

There was another blow, and the sharp creaking of leather that implied more blows. The man in the blankets was sweating. He eased from the blankets and grasped his boots, drawing them on. Then he stood up.

"Hurry it up, Lud! It'll soon be light an' we've miles to go!"

The listener held himself still. To be found here would mean certain death, and he was utterly defenseless. Against one man, or even two, he might have taken a chance, but without a gun he was helpless against this number.

This was no committee of honest citizens but some dark and ugly bunch out to do business that demanded night and secrecy. They could not afford to be seen or known.

"All right," Lud's voice was thick, irritated, "lead his horse out easy. I want this to last."

A horse moved and the listener heard the creak of a rope taking strain; then he heard the jerking of it as the hanged man kicked and struggled. The listener knew. He had seen a lynching before this.

"Never thought I'd live to see the day," the first speaker said. "After Neal the rest of them will be easy. This was the one had me bothered."

"Huh!" Lud grunted. "You leave it to me. This was the one I wanted. Now we'll get the rest. Let's get out of here!"

Copyright © 1982 by Louis & Katherine L'Amour Trust