gusted, scattering ash across Seth’s boots. He stared down at the sticks. Why did they have to burn so damned fast?
This high in the mountains there was little dead wood, and his men had gathered what there was close by. Seth had two choices: return to his cold bedroll or gather more wood. Rising with a softly whispered curse, he stepped across one sleeping body and walked to the thin line of trees.
It had been a long ride in search of the killer. They hadfound his tracks soon enough and had followed him up into the mountains. But the pursuers had lost his trail twice after that, and four fruitless days had followed. Then they had picked up the wrong trail and come upon an old man and a mule. Strange old coot, thought Seth. Odd eyes; looked as if they could see right through you.
“We’re hunting a man,” Seth had told him. “We’re Crusaders from Purity.”
“I know that,” the oldster had replied. “Spent the night in a cave yonder with the man you’re looking for.”
“Which way was he heading?”
“North. Into the wild lands.”
“We’ll find him,” Seth had said.
“Hope you don’t, Son. Strikes me you’re good men. Shame to see such men die.”
“Is he a friend of yours, this man?” Seth had asked.
The old man had shaken his head. “He only met me last night. But I’d say I like him. You best be careful, Crusader. Men like him don’t offer second chances.” The old man had grinned at them and without another word had ridden off.
Short on food and getting colder by the day, the Crusaders had finally found the killer’s trail. The next day they would have him.
Seth gathered an armful of sticks and a thick broken branch and started back toward the fire. Something cold touched the back of his neck, and an even colder voice spoke. “You are making a mistake that will lead you to your death.”
The Crusader swallowed hard. His legs felt shaky, and the gun barrel felt icy against his skin. But Seth was no coward, and he gathered himself.
“You are a blasphemer and a killer,” he said.
“Take your men back to Purity,” said the cold voice. “I do not wish to kill any of you. But if you are on my trail come daylight, none of you will ever see your families again. Had I so chosen, I could have walked into your camp tonight and slain you all. Now go.”
The gun barrel withdrew. Seth blinked back the sweat that was dripping into his eyes. Strangely, he did not feel cold atall. He took a step, then another. Then he dropped the wood, threw aside the blanket, drew his pistol, and swiveled.
There was no one there.
For a minute or more he remained where he was. The cold came back into his bones. Sheathing the pistol, he gathered the fallen sticks and returned to the fire, banking it up until the flames were too hot to sit alongside. Returning to his bedroll, he thought of Elizabeth and his sons, Josh and Pad.
One of his men awoke with a cry. “Hell’s bells, Seth, you trying to set us all ablaze?” The edge of the man’s blanket was smoldering, and he beat at it with his palm.
The commotion woke the others.
“We’re going home,” said Seth. “We’ve no food, and the wild lands are just beyond the ridge.”
“Are you all right, Seth?” asked Sam Drew, his lieutenant.
“Aye. But this man is too much for us, boys. Take my word on it. We’ll send word to the Apostle Saul in Pilgrim’s Valley. He can order out the Jerusalem Riders. Let them deal with him.”
“This isn’t like you, Seth. What changed your mind?”
“It’s a funny thing, Sam. A little while ago I was cold and hated it. Now it feels good. It tells me I’m alive. I’d kind of like to stay that way.”
It was near midnight, and the main street of Pilgrim’s Valley was almost deserted as the five riders made their way to the house behind the Crusader compound. The first of the men, tall and broad-shouldered and wearing a full-length, double-shouldered topcoat, dismounted and turned to the others. “Get
This high in the mountains there was little dead wood, and his men had gathered what there was close by. Seth had two choices: return to his cold bedroll or gather more wood. Rising with a softly whispered curse, he stepped across one sleeping body and walked to the thin line of trees.
It had been a long ride in search of the killer. They hadfound his tracks soon enough and had followed him up into the mountains. But the pursuers had lost his trail twice after that, and four fruitless days had followed. Then they had picked up the wrong trail and come upon an old man and a mule. Strange old coot, thought Seth. Odd eyes; looked as if they could see right through you.
“We’re hunting a man,” Seth had told him. “We’re Crusaders from Purity.”
“I know that,” the oldster had replied. “Spent the night in a cave yonder with the man you’re looking for.”
“Which way was he heading?”
“North. Into the wild lands.”
“We’ll find him,” Seth had said.
“Hope you don’t, Son. Strikes me you’re good men. Shame to see such men die.”
“Is he a friend of yours, this man?” Seth had asked.
The old man had shaken his head. “He only met me last night. But I’d say I like him. You best be careful, Crusader. Men like him don’t offer second chances.” The old man had grinned at them and without another word had ridden off.
Short on food and getting colder by the day, the Crusaders had finally found the killer’s trail. The next day they would have him.
Seth gathered an armful of sticks and a thick broken branch and started back toward the fire. Something cold touched the back of his neck, and an even colder voice spoke. “You are making a mistake that will lead you to your death.”
The Crusader swallowed hard. His legs felt shaky, and the gun barrel felt icy against his skin. But Seth was no coward, and he gathered himself.
“You are a blasphemer and a killer,” he said.
“Take your men back to Purity,” said the cold voice. “I do not wish to kill any of you. But if you are on my trail come daylight, none of you will ever see your families again. Had I so chosen, I could have walked into your camp tonight and slain you all. Now go.”
The gun barrel withdrew. Seth blinked back the sweat that was dripping into his eyes. Strangely, he did not feel cold atall. He took a step, then another. Then he dropped the wood, threw aside the blanket, drew his pistol, and swiveled.
There was no one there.
For a minute or more he remained where he was. The cold came back into his bones. Sheathing the pistol, he gathered the fallen sticks and returned to the fire, banking it up until the flames were too hot to sit alongside. Returning to his bedroll, he thought of Elizabeth and his sons, Josh and Pad.
One of his men awoke with a cry. “Hell’s bells, Seth, you trying to set us all ablaze?” The edge of the man’s blanket was smoldering, and he beat at it with his palm.
The commotion woke the others.
“We’re going home,” said Seth. “We’ve no food, and the wild lands are just beyond the ridge.”
“Are you all right, Seth?” asked Sam Drew, his lieutenant.
“Aye. But this man is too much for us, boys. Take my word on it. We’ll send word to the Apostle Saul in Pilgrim’s Valley. He can order out the Jerusalem Riders. Let them deal with him.”
“This isn’t like you, Seth. What changed your mind?”
“It’s a funny thing, Sam. A little while ago I was cold and hated it. Now it feels good. It tells me I’m alive. I’d kind of like to stay that way.”
It was near midnight, and the main street of Pilgrim’s Valley was almost deserted as the five riders made their way to the house behind the Crusader compound. The first of the men, tall and broad-shouldered and wearing a full-length, double-shouldered topcoat, dismounted and turned to the others. “Get
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