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kill him in their own time. None of the men out there seemed to be JudgeNiland
. Nor did he see BenJanish .
As he moved ahead he suddenly ran out from cover, but he did not hesitate.
They would see him, but they must stop, throw up their rifles, and fire, and
in that little time he could, with luck, cross the open space. Once into the
brush and rocks, he could reach the cabin.
He took off in a charging run. He had taken three long strides before the
first bullet struck somewhere behind him. Another struck the rock just ahead
of his feet with an angrysplat; then a pebble rolled under the sole of his
boot and he fell heavily, losing his hold on his rifle, which clattered away
among the rocks.
Another bullet sounded, and rock fragments stung his face. He scrambled up,
lost his footing for a moment, then half stumbled into the brush and fell
down, his breath tearing at his lungs, but there was no time to waste. He had
no rifle now, and they would be closing in fast. He got to his feet and went
on in a stumbling run.
When he reached the shelf where the cabin stood he could hear them coming. He
hit the shelf running, but slowed to a halt. He put his hand across his face,
felt pain, and glanced down at the hand. It was badly lacerated from a fall on
the rocks. He opened and closed it-the fingers were all right.
Suddenly the door of the cabin came open and he heard Fan scream."No! No!"
Aman with a broad, tough face and straight black brows stood before
him."Noon! I'm Mitt Ford! You killed-"
Ruble Noon went for his gun. There was no moment to think, and his hand swept
down and came up, and the heavy gun bucked with the roar of his first shot. He
saw Mitt Ford back up a step, and then come on, his gun blazing. He was
fanning his gun, and Ruble Noon thought,He's a damned fool, even as he was
shooting.
Bullets sprayed around Noon, but he took the moment given him and put three
bullets into the area around Mitt Ford's navel.
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The gun spilled from Ford's hand. He grabbed for it and fell, tried to rise,
and fell again. There was a widening circle of blood on the back of Ford's
shirt.
Ruble Noon moved swiftly to the door. FanDavidge caught him and pulled him
inside. Even as the door slammed, a bullet thudded against the wood.
"Are you all right?" he asked quickly.
"Yes, I'm all right. He ... he just got here. He told me he was going to kill
you."
Ruble Noon crossed over to the rifle rack and took down aWinchester . It was
fully loaded. He reloaded his six-shooter, took up anothergunbelt , and
strapped itbn .
After the sudden glare of the sun outside, the shadowed interior of the cabin
had left Fan half-blind. Suddenly she saw the darkening stain around his
shoulder.
"You're hurt!" she exclaimed.
Driven to desperation by the loss of his rifle and the closeness of those
behind him, he had forgotten about everything except getting a rifle in his
hands once more. Now, seeing Fan again, he knew how much he wanted to live.
"I'd better do something about it," he said. He dropped into a chair from
which he could look out. "I want a drink, too," he added.
"There's coffee," she said.
"Water first."
Just sitting down, just resting there, relaxing for a minute, feltgood . What
he wanted most was a chance to lean back, to close his eyes. His lids were hot
and his eyes were red-rimmed from the glare and from the wind.
"We've got to get out of here," he said. "This is a trap."
"Wait. First I'll see what I can do for your shoulder."
He looked at her. Worried as she was, she moved with no waste motion. She
brought hot water and cloths and, stripping off his shirt, she began to bathe
the wound. The warm water felt good. She had gentle fingers and she worked
very quickly.
His eyes went from her to the window. The open area before them was empty,
but he knew the men were out there, scouting around. They had not discovered
the place had only one approach. Soon they would know that, and they would
begin shooting.
Ruble Noon knew too much of shooting and too much of the actions of bullets
to feel confident. In such a place, one did not need to have a target, did not
need to see anyone. They had only to shoot inside, through the windows, and
let the bullets ricochet.
Many of the bullets would miss, but some would be pretty sure to hit. He had
seen the wounds made by ricocheting bullets, bouncing from wall to wall, and
cutting like jagged knives. A ricochet could rip a man wide open; any ricochet
could make a nasty wound. He had seen it done.
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Presently he accepted a cup of coffee. He was well back inside, facing the
window, and she was bandaging his wound before they appeared.
It was JudgeNiland who called out. "Ruble Noon, you haven't got a chance!
Come on out with your hands up, and we'll make a deal!"
He made no reply. Let them do the talking if they liked. He had nothing to
talk about.
"We know FanDavidge is in there, and we know you're wounded - You tell us
where it is, and you can have an equal share."
"Equal to what?" he asked.
"Share and share alike,"Niland said. His voice sounded nearer. If they tried
rushing the place, they'd be fools. He could nail two or three of them before
they got to the other wall.
There was silence. Fan had finished bandaging the wound. He was studying the
area before him. Everybody was out of sight, but that ricochet business could
work two ways. It was mostly open country out there, with some scattered trees
and a few boulders. It was only an outside chance that he could score a hit,
but he could make them nervous.
"Fan, put somegrub together," he said. "There'ssome gunny sacks around. Get
one of them and fill it with canned goods and whatever isn't too heavy. Put in
a side of bacon and some coffee." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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