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Robinson was too far from the shack to do anything.
At dawn, he had left the shack to gather berries and roots. He felt Morisson was ready to travel now and they would be moving on.
Everyone else had been asleep.
The rain had ended an hour earlier; thin sunlight was beginning to show, making the spaces between the high trees glow a pale yellow.
Robinson was a quarter of a mile above the shack, bent down beside a narrow quirky stream.
He heard Katherine cry out.
Holding a handful of roots close to his chest, he ran swiftly downhill.
A pistol sounded twice down there.
"There goes that hill," Smokes said to himself when he saw Robinson slip out of the shack that morning. "He's th' most trouble o' them all. Hope he goes 'way fer a little spell o' time."
All night, feigning sleep, the sooty-haired man had worked at the strips of blanket that tied his hands and feet. He'd managed to get his hands free half an hour ago, just as the rain had faded away outside. A few careful moments later he'd undone the bonds around his ankles.
Stretched out there, alone in the back room of the shack, on the filthy cot, Smokes watched.
Hare and his yellow-haired wife slept on the two cots in the other room. The giant Morisson was huddled in a corner, breathing dryly in and out through his open mouth. Only the Korean didn't seem to be asleep. He sat near the doorway, cross-legged, eyes shut.
"Dang 'im," thought Smokes. "If 'e weren't smack in front o' th' way out I could git off n' runnin' wi' no trouble at all."
He almost gave himself away then. He started to reach a newly freed hand up to adjust his spectacles. He caught the impulse in time.
Then Robinson stood up and, after glancing round the main room, left the shack.
Waiting three long minutes, Smokes swung carefully off the cot. His legs were stiff, and his movement was awkward from being in the same position all night.
He risked standing there for a moment, rubbing his knees, flexing his hands, waiting for his arms and legs to start working again.
Everyone must have felt relatively safe after having, Smokes didn't know how, scared off the Indians. Hare had shoved one of the pistols under his pillow. Smokes had seen that last night before the lamp was snuffed out.
But the other gun, Smokes's nickel-plated six-shooter, was sitting there on the table near the cot Katherine was sleeping on.
Holding his breath, Smokes, after pushing his spectacles into place, crossed the threshold and began his slow progress across the dirt floor of the main room..
Morisson, bothered perhaps by a dream, groaned once.
Smokes kept on, watching the three of them, making sure their breathing stayed even.
She was pretty, the yellow-haired girl. With a little money, any kind of stake at all, Smokes knew he'd be able to afford a woman like that. Women didn't care much for him now, the way he was: hard up for money, most of the time, drifting, always looking for a better deal.
He had heard them last night, dividing up that sack of gold nuggets. Half and half, half to that stupid giant Morisson, half to the girl and her husband.
"Mebbe," thought Smokes as he started reaching for the gun, "I kin get at leas' one o' them shares o' gold 'fore I hightail it outta here. I don't wanna tangle wi' that hill no more, but mebbe there'll be time." He checked the entranceway.
Katherine sat up and screamed.
"Dang," Smokes got hold of the nickel-plated revolver. With his other hand, he grabbed the girl's arm. "Git up outta that. I wan' tha' gold!" He yanked her completely out of the cot, sending it skittering towards the wall. He knew she'd tied up her share of nuggets in a handkerchief, had them on her somewhere.
"Let her go!" shouted Hare. He was tugging at the gun beneath his pillow.
Without answering, Smokes fired.
The slug took Hare in the arm. But he threw himself forward, overturned his cot, charging Smokes.
Smokes shot him again.
Hare's feet went out from under him. He hit the dirt floor straight out, hard.
"Ya ain' gonna git clear o' here," warned Morisson, shifting his bulk in the doorway.
Smokes got an armlock on the blond girl. He jabbed the pistol barrel against the side of her throat. "S' help me, I'll shoot 'er said if'n ya don't move."
Katherine was trying to speak, making only dry gagging sounds.
Morisson snarled once. "'Kay, 'kay." He backed toward a corner. "Don't doubt ya would."
"Dang right I would," agreed Smokes. "I'd kill ev'ry one o' ya ta save m' own skin." He pushed Katherine ahead of him. "Out, outta here now."
Katherine managed to say her husband's name before Smokes was outside and gone with her.228Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡORwv6thfki
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"Both bullets only grazed him," said Robinson.228Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIQv2wK83R4
Morisson, watching over the lanky young man's shoulder, tugged at his beard. "I tol' ya I shoulda tied that sneaky claim jumper up tighter."
"Where," asked Hare, stretched out on a cot, "where's Katherine."
Robinson nodded at Morisson. "I have treated his wounds. Stay here with him. I will bring her back."
"Back?" said Hare, his voice dim. "From where? Where's she gone?"
"Smokes has taken her," answered Robinson.
Morisson anticipated Hare's next move and got his shoulders pinned before he could try to get up. "Take a rest, fella," he said. "Anybody kin git 'er back, Robinson kin."
Hare bit his lips, then said, "Take my horse. I think it's the better of the two."
"I will not need a horse." Robinson left them.228Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡz7ymGHN0Dm
