Against the Odds

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When the notion hit me, I was settled on my belly, looking out over the country. I wiggled backwards without getting up, vanishing into the bramble and brush clinging to the gritty slope. Once in the shelter of the trees, I stopped, straining to hear, waiting. There was nothing, but I couldn't relax. Every instinct I had screamed trap.

Right then a little mountain jay swooped past, squawking. His wings spread for landing in a large tangle of brush, but he abruptly turned away, flying near vertical, shrieking. That was it then. Somebody was set up in the brush, waiting for a good shot.

They'd likely known about this place, figured I'd see it and think it a good vantage point. Now they hedged around me, probably cutting off all retreat. I silently cursed my lack of knowledge of the country. Quickly scanning the terrain below, I saw the waving flash of horsetail, and realized the riders I had seen were a distraction- and it had worked. Now they were on foot, coming to join their partners in killing me.

Anger flaring hot, I let myself get good and mad. They'd had their chance, now it was war. It seemed to me that they'd have the rock ledge surrounded, every way off covered with a gun. But did they?

My eyes turned back to the protrusion. It looked to be sheer, but it wasn't. Soil was gathered up around the base, allowing brush to grow, which caught more windblown dirt, creating a steep, but not impossible way off the ledge. Could I get to it unseen? Probably not, but the advantage would be they'd not be expecting such a move. Likely, they'd be watching the trees behind me, waiting for me to make a break that way.

So I crawled back out there, moving with care, but not particularly slow. Just as I thought, the lip of the protrusion had only a short drop, then a thin wedge of built-up soil and bush. I was expecting a bullet every second, that sharp scream then pain, but nothing. I made it off the ledge and was making an odd scramble for the trees below when a voice stopped me.

"Clever girl."

I just naturally froze. He'd spoken from the right of me, just behind a stand of close-grown trees.

"The others didn't figure you had the guts or the brains to go that way...I figured different, so I guess I caught the coon."

I didn't say a word, but I was sweating heavy wondering if he'd shoot me or try to take me prisoner.

"Move careful, and come over where I can see you."

So, I told myself, prisoner it was. Going slow, my mind racing, I tried to think of a way out. When he stepped from around the tree, I gave up. His gun was out, pointed square at me. I was to make my escape, not get killed, so decided to buy my time, as little as it was.

We stared at one another, this big man and I. He was tall, with wide spread shoulders, a thick waist but not fat, and big, meaty hands. A tiny little bell chimed in the back of my head I'd seen him somewhere's before but couldn't place it. I also knew he had to be the one to shoot me and steal ol' Gray. His mouth, with a small scar over the top lip, quirked a little.

"You been troublin' to lay a hand on, but I knew I'd get you sooner or later."

"What's it matter to you?" I wanted to know, figuring I was dying anyway. He looked coldly amused by my question.

"I'm Lee Cagney. You kept the skunk that murdered my brother from hangin'. Now I want the gold he stole from my brother."

Hanging? My mind whipped back to El Paso, the room full of angry men- had he been there? Should have guessed it, being Al's brother. My lips popped open a little as my head started to shake.

"Mister, you got your tracks crossed back the trail a mite. I don't know nothin' 'bout gold, nor the death of Al Cagney. Him that done it wasn't at the trial-"

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