thillerman.theblessingway-第37章

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ince　emerging　from　the　chimney　three　hours　earlier。
　The　first　had　e　an　hour　ago　when　he　had　seen　the　boy　on　the　horse。　He　had　stopped　to　catch　his　breath　and　make　sure　of　his　directions　on　the　plateau。　He　had　glanced　behind　him；　and　the　boy　had　been　there…not　two　hundred　yards　away…silently　staring　at　him。　A　boy　wearing　what　looked　like　a　red　cap。　But；　when　McKee　had　waved　and　shouted；　the　horse　and　rider　had　simply　disappeared。　They　had　vanished　so　suddenly　that　McKee　almost　doubted　his　eyes。
　〃He　knows　he's　in　witch　country；〃　McKee　thought；　〃and　he's　spooky。〃　Trying　to　follow　him　would　be　a　foredoomed　waste　of　time。
　Following　the　wires；　on　the　other　hand；　would　be　simple。　At　one　end　there　would　be　some　sort　of　gadget　of　the　sort　which　concern　electrical　engineers。　At　the　other　end…with　any　luck　at　all…he　would　find　the　engineer。　And　Hall　would　have　a　truck　and　maybe　a　radio　transmitter。　The　cable　ran　southeast　across　the　plateau　toward　the　Kam　Bimghi　Valley　and　northwest　back　toward　the　branch　canyon　McKee　had　been　skirting。　It　was　an　easy　choice。　McKee　trotted　toward　the　canyon；　following　the　cable。
　At　the　rim；　the　cable　looped　downward；　disappearing　under　brush　and　reappearing　where　it　was　strung　across　rocky　outcrops。　McKee　paused　at　the　rim；　staring　up　the　canyon　after　the　cable。
　This　branch　canyon　was　much　shallower　than　Many　Ruins　and　its　broken　walls　offered　several　fairly　easy　ways　down。　From　the　canyon　floor；　McKee　heard　an　echoing　ping；　ping；　ping…the　sound　of　metal　striking　metal。　A　flood　of　elation　erased　his　weariness。　Hall's　truck　must　be　there；　and　Hall　with　it。　And　it　wasn't　more　than　a　quarter　of　a　mile　away。
　The　pain　came　with　absolutely　no　warning；　just　as　he　took　a　step　down　off　the　rimrock。　Behind　the　pain；　perhaps　a　second；　he　was　conscious　of　the　flat　snap　of　a　rifle　fired　a　long　way　off。　Then　he　was　conscious　only　that　he　was　falling　and　of　suffocation…or　a　terrible　need　to　draw　a　breath　into　lungs　that　wouldn't　work。　He　was　on　his　back　now；　on　a　pile　of　talus　just　under　the　rim。　The　sky　in　front　of　his　eyes　was　dark　blue。　He　could　breathe　again；　although　inhaling　hurt。　And　he　could　think　again。　He　put　his　hand　where　the　pain　was；　on　his　right　chest。　It　came　away　hot　and　red。　Someone　had　shot　him。　Who？　The　boy　on　the　horse？　That　made　no　sense。　The　Big　Navajo。　Yes；　of　course。
　McKee　pushed　himself　into　a　sitting　position　against　the　rimrock　and　gingerly　examined　the　damage。　He　could　feel　the　bullet　hole　on　his　back…a　small　burning　spot。　It　had　e　out　left　of　his　left　nipple；　tearing　a　hole　through　which　blood　now　welled。　Broken　ribs；　he　thought；　but　the　lung　must　have　been　missed。　It　still　inflated。
　McKee　coughed　and　flinched　at　the　knife　in　his　ribs。　He　tried　to　think。　The　Big　Navajo　must　have　returned　to　the　cliff；　and　had　found　Ellen。　No　use　thinking　about　it。
　From　up　canyon　he　heard　the　dim；　puttering　sound　of　a　two…cycle　engine。　Probably　a　generator　motor。　And　probably　down　in　the　canyon　bottom　Hall　hadn't　heard　the　shot。　Or　if　he　had　heard　it　would　have　no　reason　to　be　warned　by　it。　He　had　to　reach　Hall　in　time　to　tell　him。
　McKee　pulled　himself　to　his　feet；　took　three　steps　along　the　talus　and　stopped；　gasping；　supporting　himself　by　hanging　on　to　the　rubber…clad　cable　strung　across　the　rocks。　It　would　take　him　half　an　hour　at　this　rate　to　reach　the　truck。　And　he　didn't　think　he　had　that　much　time。
　Over　the　rim　he　could　see　nothing　at　first。　An　expanse　of　plateau；　sparse　clumps　of　buffalo　grass；　a　scattering　of　drought…dwarfed　pi？on；　juniper；　and　creosote　bush；　a　stony　surface　on　which　nothing　moved。　Then　he　saw；　to　his　left；　the　figure　of　a　man。　The　man　walked　slowly；　a　rifle　with　a　telescopic　sight　held　across　his　chest。　He　moved　unhurriedly；　relentlessly；　inexorably　toward　the　point　of　rimrock　from　which　McKee　had　fallen。　Five　hundred　yards　away；　walking　almost　casually　toward　him　under　a　broad…brimmed　black　hat；　was　certain　death。
　McKee　fought　down　a　desperate　impulse　to　run。　When　he　conquered　the　panic　he　found　it　replaced　by　a　hard；　cold；　overpowering　anger。　He　looked　around　for　a　weapon　and　became　abruptly　conscious　of　the　soft　rubber　insulation　of　the　cable　gripped　in　his　palm。
　You　son　of　a　bitch。　You　bastard。　You　won't　just　finish　me　off　like　a　crippled　animal。　You'll　have　to　e　and　get　me。
　Had　the　Big　Navajo　been　careless；　had　he　simply　walked　his　slow　walk　directly　to　the　rimrock；　McKee　would　have　run　out　of　time。　But　the　Big　Navajo　took　no　chances　at　all。　When　McKee　finally　heard　his　boots；　the　sound　came　from　below。　The　hunter　was　stalking　cautiously；　skirting　the　point　on　the　rim　where　he　must　have　seen　McKee　knocked　down　by　his　bullet；　taking　his　time。
　McKee　had　worked　feverishly。　He　pulled　the　slack　cable　over　a　boulder　and　slammed　it　twice　with　a　rock。　The　cable　severed　and　the　end　sprang　away　in　a　shower　of　sparks。　He　stripped　five　feet　of　the　thick　rubber　tubing　from　the　dead　end　with　his　pocket　knife。　While　he　worked；　the　plan　formed　in　his　mind。　Just　up　the　canyon；　a　huge　ponderosa　had　fallen　against　the　rocky　cliff…a　dead　log　half　obscured　by　a　thick　growth　of　pine　saplings。　He　would　crawl　into　that　darkness；　tie　the　rubber　to　two　sapling　trunks　to　make　a　catapult；　cut　himself　a　lance　from　another　sapling；　and　hope　the　Big　Navajo　made　a　mistake。
　The　Big　Navajo　was　making　no　mistakes。　McKee　could　see　him　now；　moving　in　a　half…crouch　ten　yards　below　the　rimrock。　The　big　man　stared　upward　at　the　place　where　McKee's　blood　smeared　the　boulder。　McKee　could　see　his　profile；　shaded　under　the　broad　rim　of　the　new　black　hat。　It　was　a　handsome　face；　hawklike　and　intent。　The　Big　Navajo　moved　up　to　the　boulder　and　knelt　beside　it。　He　examined　the　bloody　talus　debris　and　then　stood；　scanned　the　slope　below；　and　began　walking　carefully　along　the　route　McKee　had　taken。
　McKee　pushed　his　heels　deeper　into　the　pine　needles；and　tested　his　lance　against　the　tension　of　the　rubber。　He　had　cut　a　yard…long　length　of　a　three…quarter…inch　pine　stem；　given　it　a　crude　point；　and　then　hammered　the　punch　tool　of　his　knife　into　the　soft　wood　six　inches　from　the　heavy　end。　Snapped　off；　this　prong　of　steel　provided　the　hook　on　which　he　had　caught　the　rubber。
　He　was　lying　almost　flat；　his　weight　pulling　against　the　tough　rubber。　Down　the　shaft　of　the　sapling；　he　saw　the　Navajo's　hat　rise　into　view　as　he　moved　slowly　up　the　slope。　Then　his　shoulders；　then　his　belt。　The　man　stopped。　He　looked　at　the　fallen　tree；　at　the　growth　of　young　ponderosa。　He　stared　intently　from　the　sunlight　tnto　the　deep　shadows。
　McKee　held　his　breath；　fought　against　the　dizziness。　Four　or　five　steps　closer；　he　prayed。　Keep　ing。　Keep　ing。
　The　Navajo　stood；　staring　directly　at　him。　His　face　was　thoughtful。　Suddenly　he　smiled。
　〃Well；〃　he　said。　There　you　are。〃
　It　seemed　to　McKee　to　take　quite　a　little　time。　The　Big　Navajo's　right　hand　brought　the　rifle　butt　smoothly　up　to　the　right　shoulder；　the　left　hand　swung　the　barrel　toward　him；　the　Navajo's　face　moved　slightly　to　the　right；　behind　the　telescopic　sight。　All　this　while　McKee　was　releasing　the　lance。
　Most　likely　the　telescope　made　the　difference。　Over　open　sights；　the　Indian　would　have　seen　the　lance　at　the　moment　of　its　launch；　seen　it　soon　enough　to　simply　step　aside。　Behind　the　sight；　he　saw　it　too　late。　There　was　a　sound…which　McKee　would　remember…something　like　a　hammer　striking　a　melon。　And　the　clatter　of　the　rifle　falling　on　the　rocks。　And　the　sound　of　the　Big　Navajo　tumbling　backward　down　the　slope。
　McKee　crawled　out　of　the　thicket　and　picked　up　the　rifle。　It　seemed　incredibly　heavy。　The　Big　Navajo　had　slid；　head　downward；　between　two　boulders。　McKee　looked　at　the　man　and　hastily　looked　away。　The　pine　shaft　had　struck　him　low　on　the　chest。　There　was　no　chance　at　all　that　he　was　alive。　The　black　hat　lay　by　the　boulder；　the　sun　reflecting　off　the　rich　silver　of　its　concho　band。　And　up　the　slope　was　a　furry　bundle　tied　with　a　leather　thong。　McKee　untied　the　thong。　A　wolf　skin　unrolled　itself。
　McKee　felt　a　whirling　dizziness。　Always　wanted　a　witch's　skin。　Hang　it　on　my　office　wall。　Maybe　give　it　to　Canfield。
　He　remembered；　then；　that　Canfield　was　dead；　and　was　conscious　that　his　side　was　wet　and　his　pant　leg　was　sticki