The Copper City - Chris Scott Wilson [32]
From that distance he had been unable to distinguish between the sleeping men and the impenetrable inky shadows that filled the bottoms. He had climbed down to slowly penetrate the canyon, a vague hope of killing Quantro and his partner while they slept. The two horses, foraging loosely, had heard him in the darkness, their wandering hooves suddenly still. There had been the beginnings of a snicker in the stallion’s throat. If the animals woke Quantro, then the fight would have been on his terms, and Upton would have lost his edge. And Quantro wasn’t a man he wanted to second guess in the dark.
He needed all the edge he could get.
Retracing his steps back up to the rim he had figured the best chance he had was to wait for sun-up, then catch them by surprise. The last thing Quantro would expect was that he, Upton, had come back to face him and have it out. Of course, it would not be as simple as that. Quantro would not see him. A well-placed shot out of nowhere and Upton’s problems would be over. All except getting rid of Dobey, that was. But that could be taken care of later.
They had made dry camp, well back from the rim. Upton took the first watch. Nothing had moved out in the desert and he’d had to keep moving every few minutes to keep out the cold. With no fire there wasn’t even coffee to help him stay awake. Shortly after midnight he had woken Dobey with instructions to wake him a couple of hours before sun-up so he could take his own turn in the blankets.
He had woken just as dawn was breaking. Dobey’s back was to him, sitting on a rock, hunched into his coat, rifle across his knees.
“What’s happened?”
Dobey had blinked slowly once and shrugged, reluctant to admit he had fallen asleep. Upton had suppressed his anger and gone to scout the canyon rim. He cursed to himself, lying against the rock. He had planned on catching Quantro and Wiltshire before they had chance to move. The odds were they would want to be out on the trail by dawn, chasing hard, like a pair of blue tick hounds.
He had been half right. As he lay on the rim he could see Quantro was already gone. Wiltshire was collecting brushwood to build a fire. Upton jacked a round into his rifle’s chamber before sighting down on the man below for a few seconds. He decided against it. If Quantro was in earshot, which was quite likely as gunfire would carry a long way on the still morning air, then he would come back alert, hunting and ready to kill. No, it was better if he caught them together. Two well-aimed shots and he would be in the clear.
It hadn’t taken long for Quantro to return. Upton had watched him ride in and approach the fire. He had made a sign to Dobey to get ready. He would give the two men below time to settle down. A couple of minutes then it would begin.
The nerves had started coiling up then. He had watched Wiltshire hand Quantro the plate. He had settled his rifle-butt into his shoulder. Nice and easy. Allow for windage and drop. A downhill shot. Not ideal conditions, but then a man couldn’t have everything. Nice and…
Dobey’s rifle barked. Upton screamed a curse. The coil of his nerves sprang free, then he was pouring lead down into the canyon as fast as he could work the Winchester. He almost howled with frustration as Quantro skidded behind a boulder, unscathed. What was even more surprising was the older man, Wiltshire, had reached cover first.
He shot a look of disgust at Dobey, who stared right back. Stupid son of a bitch. How dumb can you get? Why hadn’t he waited? He knew the plan. Why hadn’t he done what he was told? A bullet ricocheted off the rock in front of Upton. He flinched as fragments battered the crown of his hat.
Damn, Quantro had him spotted already. He retreated then moved along the rim to fresh cover. He bellied down behind a wide slab of rock, leaning out to fire twice in quick succession. A bullet cracked overhead in way of reply. He veered back and caught his breath. When he leaned out again he saw a figure move below him. He fired just as something tore at his arm, like the sharp tug of a freshening