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CHAPTER 25

      WHEN THEY heard the shooting start at Nugent's place, Amhearst and Hopper were elated. "He's done it!" Hopper said.

      In the distance, he could see puffs of gunsmoke from the men climbing up the hill among the rocks that been cleared off the wagon road. He could make out only four men, and none of them was Travis. Then he saw someone lying face down, his arms and legs akimbo, among the rocks and scrub pines on the hill. "The Chinks got one."

      "Travis?"

      "Looks too big. Where are the rest of 'em?"

      "Probably 'round the back of the hill, like I suggested," Amhearst said. He settled back and propped his boots up. "It's going to be a great show."

      Earlier, when Travis left Amhearst and Hopper, he had gone into the shed and told his men that there were just three people in the big house up the hill. "It's just a man and a woman and a half-wit kid. Why, we can do this job in an hour, and be home collecting our pay tomorrow. Let's get up there and get 'em."

      But they had made no move to go, except for a short muscular man named Olson who had confidence in Travis because he had fought with him before.

      Travis glared at the rest of them. "You signed on to do this job, now you're gonna do it, or there will be no money waiting for you back there." He made his face stern and hefted his rifle so it pointed somewhat in their direction. "In fact, you may not make it back to Denver at all, if you don't get on up there."

      Travis had been a cavalryman and had fought courageously during the war, and he bitterly resented Amhearst's implying that he was a coward. All he'd wanted, he told himself, was to give his men a rest before the fight. Now, seeing their unwillingness to move, he seriously considered winging one or two, just to get the message across that there was no escaping what they had set out to do. "Let's go!"

      The men, although reluctant to move, respected the rifle in Travis's hands and after a minute or so one of them said, "Well, if it's as easy as you say, let's get it over with." Grudgingly they moved out.

      "The back of the hill is pretty wooded," Travis said. He picked six men. "You go up the hill a ways and take cover among the rocks. I'll take the rest and go around the back. Any of you going up the front got a good watch?"

      "I do," one of the men said.

      "All right, when we get to the foot of the hill give us thirty minutes to get around there, and then you start a diversion by shooting at the house. Aim for the windows. We'll charge the house from the back while you keep 'em busy in the front. Everybody understand it?"

      They nodded.

      Travis checked his watch against the other one, and they set them together. Then Travis remembered. "And don't shoot the woman. We want her alive."

      One of the men sniggered.

      "Naw, it ain't for that," Travis said. "We're gentlemen in this little army."

      The sky had turned dark and ominous, and the snow was falling heavily.

      "Hey, I'm hungry. When we gonna eat?" one man asked plaintively.

      "After the fight," Travis answered. "We'll eat like kings in just a couple of hours."

      He and the eight men he had taken around the back weren't even halfway up the hill when the shooting started in the front of the house. At first he was angry thinking his men had started the diversion too early, then he figured they must have been seen and the fire was coming from the house. But it sounded to Travis like more fire than three people could put out.

      Then there was the crack of a rifle from around thirty yards away, and one of his men fell. The rest of them took cover, and Travis wormed his way around to behind where the shot had come from and, raising his head carefully, he saw a Chinese in a half crouch, his rifle poised. Beyond him, there was another Chinese sensing the wind like a bear after prey.

      Travis felt betrayed. Nobody had told him about the Chinese, and he had led his unprepared men into grave danger. The feeling of betrayal quickly turned into a hard burning hate for Amhearst and Hopper.

      Travis took a bead on the closest Chinese and shot him square in his chest, the easiest target. The man screamed and fell, and instantly, Travis had the other Chinese in his sights and squeezed the trigger. This Chinese was turning to see where the first shot came from. Travis's bullet caught him in the face and he dropped soundlessly.

      As Travis crawled back down to where his wounded man lay, bullets smashed into the rocks and trees where he had been. The man who was shot was a drifter they had picked up in a saloon who'd agreed to fight for the money. He was dead.

      Travis called the remaining seven and told them in a hoarse whisper about the Chinese guarding the house. "Amhearst and Hopper lied to us," he said bitterly. "When we get out of here, I'm gonna to make 'em pay for it. If I can't do it, I command you to do it for me." There was a murmur of assent.

      There was still the sound of sporadic shooting from the other side of the hill. "They're shootin' our boys," Travis said. "Let's go get us some Chinks!" He directed three of the men toward their left flank and three to the right. "You stay with me," he said to Olson. "The Chinks will be watching their flanks, and when our men draw them off, we'll go up the middle. They may not know I made a hole in their line with the two I got before."

      They lay there for a while concealed by the trees, each covering a different direction with his eyes. Travis wondered if the men he'd sent to the right and left were doing the same as him, waiting for the others to move first.

      The shooting from the other side of the hill had tapered off and stopped. They strained their ears but heard nothing, only the rustle of the wind among the trees, and sometimes the click of a sporadic hailstone hitting a rock. It was getting colder by the minute.

      Then there was a rattle of gunfire to the left, and almost instantly from the right, and Travis said, "At least those boys will be busy." He got to his feet. "Time to go," he said quietly to Olson, and while the younger man followed, Travis began moving silently between the trees partially concealed by the mist. Snow and sleet clinging to their clothes helped them blend into the landscape. They moved slowly and silently, freezing motionless until they could see the way ahead was clear.

      During one of those stops Travis raised his hand, fingers outstretched. He pointed over to the right, and Olson, about twenty feet behind him, could make out a prone Chinese in that direction almost completely concealed by snow that had drifted over him. Olsen would not have recognized him as a man except for his black eyes, open and alert, staring in their direction over the muzzle of his rifle. Near him, almost completely covered by the snow, was the body of the Chinese Travis had killed, a red spot where his snow-covered face was. Then as Olsen stood frozen, he saw Travis creeping knife-in-hand behind the Chinese with the gun. The knife flashed as Travis stabbed him at the base of the skull, so the Chinese shuddered once and lay still. Travis then signaled Olsen to follow him as he started up toward the house, now only a few yards away in the mist.

      Nugent was looking out the windows at the front, where he had a pretty good view of the road. It appeared to him that five of the attackers had been killed, and only two of the Chinese. As best he could tell, there was only one more holdout, probably waiting until the mist thickened or nightfall came so he could escape. He wondered if any of the attackers were Amhearst or Hopper, but he decided it was more likely that they were out of range of the shooting, preferring, as he did, to let others do that.

      Still, Nugent was pleased with the way things were turning out. He heard more shots from behind the house, and he went into the kitchen, so he could see what was happening there. He peeked out of the window in time to see one of the Chinese running forward firing at a stocky looking man who fell, shot in the leg. While he was thrashing around, the Chinese stood over him and finished him off.

      Travis saw Olson go down, and he killed the Chinese who had shot him. But in doing so, he revealed himself to Chang, who was upstairs in the house looking out the back window, where he and Ah Sing aimed murderous fire at the men below them. Chang fired at Travis but missed as Travis dashed back into the trees, either giving up the fight altogether and running for his life, or laying low. Chang learned which it was as he leaned out of the window so he could see better.

      Travis was now prone behind a tree. He took careful aim at Chang and fired, and the bullet tore through Chang's chest missing his heart by only an inch or so. After that, Travis got to his feet and raced like a rabbit downhill through the trees to safety.

      When Che'en Po saw Chang fall, he felt utter despair. Only Chang, who now lay coughing up blood and would soon die, knew the Tong's real purpose in being there was to kill Nugent and install Che'en Po as the Tong's man in Tres Marias. As Che'en knelt over Chang, the old warrior opened his eyes. "Help me," he said. "There is still time."

      With Che'en's help, Chang first got to his knees, then stood up. Chang concealed his Colt behind Che'en's back as the cook supported him and helped him walk to the door and down a couple of steps.

      Nugent, with Clay and Luna behind him, stood looking up at them. Halfway down the stairs Chang's knees buckled and he sat down on the stairs. He raised his gun with both hands and pointed it at Nugent. But before he could squeeze the trigger, Nugent and Clay fired at him simultaneously and Chang was dead.

      "Why was he trying to shoot me?" Nugent asked Che'en Po. "I thought you were on my side,"

      Che'en could say nothing. He thought about his wife and daughter, and he said goodbye to them in his heart. Then he raised his gun and fired at Nugent. The bullet missed and buried itself in the wall.

      Nugent and Clay fired until their guns were empty, and Che'en Po tumbled down the stairs and landed dead at their feet.

      "They turned against me," Nugent said to Luna. "If the rest of the Chinks find out what happened, they're sure to turn on me, too."

      Luna was shaken. She had never seen sudden death before. "What will we do?" She felt almost hysterical.

      Nugent shook his head. "It'll be dark in an hour. We'll wait till then — and get out of here. We've beat Amhearst's gunmen, but the three of us have no hope of beating the rest of the Chinks."

      "I never buried Mr. Watson and Mr. Gaines," Clay said, suddenly remembering.

      "Why, that's all right," Nugent said. "Don't worry about it. You did good shootin', Clay."

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