Dark Sky (Joe Pickett #21)(83)

A round snapped past Nate’s head from the copse and he dropped and flattened himself on the ground next to Kirby. He placed his revolver on Kirby’s back and used it as a rest while he moved his front sight through the trees where the shot had come from.

“Get away from me,” Kirby hissed. “He can’t hit you without hitting me first.”

“That’s the idea,” Nate said.



* * *



—

Sheridan arrived at where her dad was hunkered down and she dismounted on the fly. She hit the ground running, almost stumbled, but ran to where he was and dropped to her hands and knees beside him.

He looked terrible, she thought. There were rips in his clothing, streams of blood coming from fresh cuts on his back and shoulders, and his face and hands were filthy. But he didn’t look seriously hurt. And his expression was as warm as ever.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said. “Keep down so Earl can’t see you.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“I’ve never been shot at before.”

He chinned toward the man lying next to him. “Sheridan, this is Steve Price. Steve-2, this is my daughter Sheridan.”

“I know who he is,” Sheridan said. She realized she was blushing and she couldn’t believe it.

Price was distracted and didn’t greet her. He had raised his head and was looking down the slope to where Nate was.

“Isn’t he your friend?” Price asked.

“Nate?” her dad said. “Yes.”

“Then why is he aiming at us?”

Sheridan focused on Nate to reveal that, yes, he had shifted his position and was now pointing his pistol in their direction.

BOOM.

Sheridan wheeled in time to see Brad Thomas get hit in the chest and fly backward. Brad had managed to get to his feet and had been approaching them from behind with his shotgun.

“That man is really hard to kill,” her dad said.



* * *



—

Back off!” Earl shouted to Nate. “Get away from my son. I’ve got ’em pinned down up there and if you don’t retreat, I’ll pick them off one by one.”

Nate shifted back to where he’d been before and he concentrated on the stand of ponderosas where Earl lurked within. He couldn’t see the man clearly amid the tree trunks, and he guessed Earl was behind them. Nate’s fear was that from where Earl was, he could position himself to get a clear shooting angle at Joe, Sheridan, and Price up in the rocks. And shoot them all, as he threatened to do.

Nate squinted, trying to will himself to see better than his vision allowed. And while he couldn’t get a good look at Earl himself, still astride his horse, he could make out a contrast of shapes within the vertical trunks.

Specifically, Nate could recognize the rump of a horse on the left side of the thickest tree trunk in the stand, and the head of a horse to the right of it. Which meant Earl was hiding directly behind the tree itself.

Nate steadied his revolver and visualized where Earl’s body should be on the other side of the center tree. Then he fired squarely into the trunk six and a half feet from the ground.

A shower of needles fell as the tree rocked with the impact as the bullet passed through it. Earl, practically headless, tumbled to the ground in a heap.

The riderless horse crow-hopped from the surprise, then did a high-stepped canter out of the trees into the clearing with its tail swishing with relief from the sudden absence of two hundred and twenty pounds on its back.



* * *



—

Joe sat back on the rocks with the sun on his face and his oldest daughter next to him and Nate joining them from below. Price paced around them giggling and shaking his head from side to side, saying, “I can’t believe we made it.”

He was kind of delirious.

Nate scowled at him while he slid his revolver into his shoulder holster.

“I’m sorry,” Price said about his laughter, “I’ve never been through anything like this before. I can’t help it.”

“You can try,” Nate said. Then to Joe: “Are you all right? You look like shit.”

“Never felt better,” Joe said with a grin. “It’s good to see you.”

“He saved my life,” Price said to Nate about Joe. “So did you and Sally . . .”

“Sheridan,” she corrected.

“Whatever,” Price said, still giddy. “The Thomases tried to kill me, then we nearly froze to death, then we were attacked by wolverines. Wolverines!”

Price stopped abruptly. Joe looked up to see Price pointing toward Brad’s big body splayed out behind them.

“Shoot him in the head,” Price said to Nate. “We need to make sure he doesn’t get up again.”

“He won’t,” Nate said. “Neither will Earl. Kirby might survive, but I’m not going to get too worked up about saving his sorry ass.”

“He’s alive?” Joe asked.

“Barely. Broken neck. Do you want me to finish him off?”

“No,” Joe said with vehemence. “Come on, Nate. We can try to get him airlifted out.”

Nate shrugged.

Joe noted that Sheridan had watched the exchange with interest, turning from Nate to him as if watching a tennis match.