Chapter 6 - Blood on the Snow
The silence in the gorge stretched out like a drawn bowstring, heavy and absolute against the howling background of the wind.
Marcus Vance sat motionless in his saddle, his eyes darting across the jagged granite crags that towered above the narrow ledge. His horse snorted, a plume of white steam venting into the freezing air, sensing the tension before its rider did.
"Boss," the bounty hunter on the left whispered nervously, shifting his weight in his stirrups. "There's nothing here. Just a bunch of rocks and frozen pine. The hermit's probably holed up in his shack a mile back, freezing his tail off."
"Shut your mouth," Vance hissed, never taking his eyes off the ridge. "Gideon Hayes doesn't hide in shacks. He's a ghost. And ghosts don't run."
Vance slowly eased his horse forward, stepping right into the absolute center of the narrow choke point—directly beneath the rocky ledge where Gideon and Josephine lay concealed.
"Now," Gideon whispered.
Crack!
Gideon’s Winchester roared first, the heavy caliber bullet striking the lead bounty hunter square in the chest. The man flew backward out of his saddle, hitting the icy rocks with a sickening thud before sliding off the ledge and plunging into the rushing torrent of the stream below.
Panic erupted instantly.
"Ambush!" Vance roared, whipping his horse around and drawing his Remington in a blur of motion. He fired three rapid shots blindly toward the upper ridge, the lead whining off the granite rocks just inches above Gideon's head, showering them with razor-sharp stone splinters.
"Fire!" Josephine shouted, abandoning all hesitation.
She pulled both triggers of her ten-gauge shotgun simultaneously. The tremendous recoil slammed back against her shoulder with bone-bruising force, but the wall of buckshot tore through the second bounty hunter’s saddle, sending his horse rearing wildly into the air. The terrified animal threw its rider against the canyon wall, rendering him unconscious before he even hit the ground.
"Fall back to the tree line!" Vance screamed, digging his spurs deep into his horse's flanks. The massive stallion leaped forward, scrambling desperately to escape the deadly crossfire of the gorge.
"Oh, no you don't," Gideon muttered, cycling the lever of his Winchester with lightning speed.
Before Vance could clear the narrow gap of Devil’s Gate, Gideon’s rifle cracked a second time. The bullet caught Vance’s horse behind the shoulder. The animal let out a piercing, agonized shriek and collapsed heavily to the side, pinning Vance’s right leg beneath its massive, thrashing weight.
"Agh!" Vance roared, dropping his revolver as it slid out of reach into the deep snow. He clawed frantically at his trapped leg, glaring up the ridge with venomous hatred as Gideon and Josephine rose from behind the fallen pine tree and began picking their way down the rocky slope toward him.
"Hayes!" Vance snarled, his face twisted in agony as blood began to seep through his trouser leg into the snow. "You think killing me changes anything? Clement Reed has a federal marshal on his way from Denver right now. By tomorrow morning, every lawman in the territory will have warrants for your arrest for kidnapping, murder, and bank robbery!"
Gideon walked steadily down the slope, his rifle held loosely in his right hand, his eyes cold and devoid of pity. He stopped two paces from where Vance was pinned beneath the dying horse.
"Let him come," Gideon said quietly, stepping closer. "Because by the time the marshal gets to Bitter Peak, I’ll have every ledger, every bank statement, and every signed confession that puts Clement Reed and his syndicate on the gallows."
Vance spat a mouthful of dark blood onto the white snow, laughing a harsh, rattling laugh. "You think Thomas Dalton kept those papers in the cabin? You think a smart man like that left his life’s work where a bunch of corrupt politicians could find it?"
Josephine froze, her breath catching in her throat. She stepped around Gideon, her shotgun still raised, her eyes burning with fierce intensity.
May you like
"What are you talking about?" Josephine demanded, stepping right up to the wounded enforcer. "Where is my husband?"
Vance smiled, his teeth stained red. He looked up at Josephine, his eyes mocking her desperation. "Ask your new husband, widow. Ask the man who watched Thomas Dalton walk into the mine three weeks ago—and then locked the iron door behind him."
