Dennis Yates - Red Mountain

“Okay boys, I’ll let you know if I get into any trouble. I’ll kill him if I have too. However it goes, I want you to be ready with the rope if I happen to need it. One shake means I’m lost and need help, two shakes means you’re going to be pulling out Maynard, dead or alive.”

Rudy’s companions nodded grimly. They were still overwhelmed by their companion’s bravado. It wasn’t merely blind foolishness that made Rudy so different from other boys his own age. He’d killed his first man when he was only twelve, after a drifter who’d greatly underestimated the boy decided to break into his home while his father was in town getting a leg put in a cast and his mother lay in bed with one of her debilitating headaches.

“Wish me luck,” he told them before he flopped down on his belly and crawled forward, the lantern in one hand and his pistol in the other. His companions watched as he slid through the small opening until his boots disappeared.

“Shit Phil, he’s actually done it,” said Sam.

“Better him than me,” Phil grinned. “The boy is plain crazy in the head.”

They both knelt down close to the entrance and watched Rudy’s lantern edge further back into the cave while the oily rope tickled their palms.

****

It took Rudy’s eyes several minutes to adjust to the darkness. He didn’t have to slide on his stomach for very long before he was able to stand on his feet. Carrying the lantern in one hand and his pistol in the other, he stepped forward.

“I know you’re in here, Charlie Maynard,” he said in deepest voice he could muster, “You’re surrounded, and you might as well give up before I shoot you, because I don’t give a damn either way.”

Rudy’s threat didn’t echo up through the cave as he’d hoped, but quickly deadened against the rock walls painted with bat guano. He stood still for a moment and listened hard for any sign of Maynard. On the moist dirt floor he noticed a fresh set of boot prints filled with foul-smelling water. He followed the tracks with his eyes until they ended near an archway were a lone figure stood watching him.

The boy gasped, took a few steps backwards and cocked his pistol.

“I see you, Maynard! Put your hands in the air if you know what’s good for you.”

Maynard raised his hands without a word and moved forward. Rudy couldn’t believe his eyes. The killer was taller than he’d imagined him, and his long shadow jackknifed against the rock wall behind him.

Suddenly the rope tied around Rudy’s ankle jerked to life, almost pulling him over before he dug his heels deep into the muck to steady himself.

What the hell were those damn fools outside doing now? I haven’t given them the signal yet!

Although it was normal for Rudy to think about what kind of punishment to deliver to his friends when things of this nature occurred, he managed to bottle it up for later. At the moment he had himself a big fish to catch. Charlie Maynard, the most wanted man in the West! Rudy was looking forward to becoming famous…

“You’re close enough,” he said. He threw Maynard a small length of rope. “Now tie your hands together real good. And don’t try cheating because I’m going to check your work.”

A crooked smile spread across Maynard’s face as he picked up the rope and began to wind it around his wrists. His eyes remained fixed on Rudy’s ankle, where the rope had sprung to life again and tugged violently. Fuming, Rudy set the lantern down on the ground and gave the rope a sharp pull while still keeping his pistol leveled on Maynard. Distracted, he’d forgotten his own pre-agreed signals. When the rope answered with another series of tugs, Rudy fumbled for his knife to cut himself free. It was at that instant when Maynard sprang at him and Rudy swung his pistol and fired.

Maynard shifted sideways and the bullet whizzed past his head and struck rock. Then suddenly he pitched forward and began clutching at his shoulder and cursing.

Rudy couldn’t believe his good fortune. The bullet had ricochet off the wall and hit Maynard! The injured man continued to lurch toward him and he took aim once again.

“Stop where you are mister or I’m going to put this one right in your heart.”

“It’s over little man,” Maynard hissed through gritted teeth.

Rudy smiled back at him. “Dead or Alive” the poster in town had read. There wasn’t a question now of what he should do. He wasn’t afraid of killing a man if he needed to. He aimed the pistol at Maynard’s chest when the rope around his ankle suddenly jerked him off his feet and sent him flying onto his back. He struck his head on a rock and cried out. The rope began to pull him away, and he tried to find a place to anchor his hands but the rock was too slippery. Skidding fast across the mud, he headed for the mouth of the cave.

“Sam! Phil! Stop pulling the fucking rope!” he screamed.

He popped out of the cave like a champagne cork and was knocked out when his head struck a tree trunk.

****

When Rudy came to again he lay still for a long time. He tried to remember where he was. He’d had the strangest experience. He’d felt his mind soaring away from his body, and when he got as high as the mountain tops he’d willed it to come back. Something tickled his nose, and when he opened his eyes he saw thousands of downy snowflakes descending toward him. As he watched the snowflakes, he noticed they also had bits of red in them, like blood.

He sat up and turned to look at the large dead spruce leaning out over the mouth of the cave as if it were the skeleton of some mythical beast. On two separate limbs he saw Phil and Sam. At first he thought they were just fooling around and he almost cussed at them until he saw the reason they floated in the air like they did. His posse had been skewered through by the dead tree’s branches… As the wind blew down the mountain, their corpses bobbed in the air like meat about to be roasted over a fire. Blood strayed from their mouths and down over the jutting ends of the branches and mingled with the falling snow.

Rudy bit his lip and looked away. He tried to stand, but his legs felt broken. He heard a movement behind him and slid around to see what it was. Maynard stepped outside the cave and stood below the tree for a long time, catching the snow on his tongue. Rudy struggled to say something and only choked. Maynard turned his head and smiled. He lifted Rudy’s pistol and waved it.

“Thanks for the piece, boy.”

“Give that back,” Rudy mumbled. “It belongs to my Daddy.”

Maynard ignored him and began to walk away, the shoulder were he’d been winged by Rudy’s shot stiffening at an odd angle. From what Rudy could tell, the man was hurt pretty bad. It would be difficult for someone in Maynard’s shape to get far in this weather. He only wished he could alert others about what was happening.

They’ll see his blood on the snow and track him down. He doesn’t have a chance in hell…

He watched as Maynard stopped several yards away and turned to laugh at him. That’s when Rudy noticed the dark shapes drop the rope attached to his ankle and move toward him. The snow seemed to melt as they floated forward. Rudy was confused. Had another posse come for his rescue? Why weren’t they shouting at Maynard, or filling him with bullets?

Rudy couldn’t make out their faces beneath the brims of their hats. They reminded him of the long-bearded prospectors he’d seen pass through town. Half-starved men dressed in rags. Except these two smelled strongly of death.

“Who are you?” Rudy asked.

They seemed not to hear him. They slowly lifted Rudy in the air and carried him toward the tree where his dead friends stared down at him.

“Stop! What do you want? Can’t you see that Maynard is getting away?”