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It would be dark in another three hours, and I wondered how long the marksman would wait for another shot. Did he think he had got me and I had tumbled into the stream? I didn't believe this was the case, for why would he have sent in that second shot? Also, a good long range man would be apt to have powerful field glasses which would show him evidence of a hit.
As of now, I believed the odds had been reversed and I settled down to wait for the marksman's return. If I had gauged the man correctly he would ride away tonight and return when least expected.
The shadows were growing long when he showed up. God, the man could move like a cat! There was no warning sound. One minute he was not there and the next he was.
He kept his rifle in his hand as his foot hit the stirrup. When it slipped down over the horses side he simply leaped clear and dove into a patch of rocks. No panic or head scratching, just instant evasive action. The man was good. So good he must be a professional at his trade.
I sat still, making no sound, so as not to draw a shot. The first one of us to move could easily be the first to die. His horse was side stepping around, uneasy with the dangling saddle but not scared enough to start bucking. Some horses would be so skittish in such a situation that they would hurt themselves.
Darkness was falling but a nearly full moon would be out tonight and I stayed right where I was, waiting for my opponent to make a move. He did the same. For the time being it was a stalemate.
About midnight his horse came by the rocks where I had last seen my attacker and I heard the thud of the saddle hitting the ground. I expected him to try to put the saddle on correctly. That must be because he didn't know where I was and he wasn't taking any chances. If he stood on the wrong side of his mount he would be open to a shot. This was a mighty careful assassin.
An hour after daybreak I heard just a hint of noise and his horse went to the rocks. In one fluid movement the man mounted and was speeding off, riding bareback! I didn't fire for fear of hitting his splendid mount.
Why me? That was my question. Here I was, a small time operator, and since I got here you would think I held the key to Fort Knox. Mine was just a small claim, but gold does do strange things to people. In someone's mind it might have escalated into a trove of riches.
Perhaps this latest shooter was connected to my newly found Heskins feud. It hardly seemed likely, considering the blundering attacks of the previous encounters.
The man's rifle lay in the rocks along with his saddle. Picking it up I found it to be the standard Army issue Trapdoor Springfield. Well, they were known to be accurate shooting guns. Sometimes in rapid fire they got too hot and the extractors ripped the rims off from the empty cartridges, leaving the weapon inoperable. That was said to be a problem that Custer's Seventh Calvary had; that and way too many Indians.
I backtracked the man and found where he had set up a perfect spot for an ambush, complete with a fallen tree for cover and a rifle rest. There were no empty shell cases, but I would have been surprised if there had been. The empties would be carefully pocketed, to be boiled later in vinegar and water to stop the primer and black powder corrosion, then carefully dried and even more carefully reloaded. A lot of the accuracy a rifleman could produce was related to the preparation of his ammunition.
My navel was starting to gnaw at my backbone, so I made a quick stop in camp to grab some canned beans and cold biscuits. I was in no condition for more surprises right now, so I kept walking to where Big Horse had been left. I ate my cold breakfast sitting in the warm sun with my friend at my shoulder. By the time I had finished my head was nodding and I knew I had to get some sleep. I told Big Horse to keep watch and covered my face with my hat. If the horse understood I couldn't really say, but it was a comfort to hear his nearby breathing as I drifted off to sleep.
I woke up in three hours feeling completely refreshed and full of well being. My one thought was, "What a great day to be alive." The temperature was in the eighties and the humidity low. The air was as clear as only western air can be. Four hundred yards away a mule deer and her two fawns browsed on some low growing brush and they stood out clear as could be.
I saddled up and cut across the trail of the bareback rider in several places, trying to see if he might have cut back, although I deemed this unlikely since he didn't have possession of his rifle. After a few miles of this I could see that he was riding toward Brown's Hole. Well, well, I had not really expected this. He must be somehow in the Heskins feud after all. His assault had been so unlike the others that I hadn't thought this could be the case.
I went back to camp and started loading up my ore. I knew I had enough. It must have been a touch of gold fever that made me enlarge the pocket mouth instead of packing up three days ago. I kept the purest dust apart from the rest; in a separate sack I carried this, so that I could leave it with Anne. I had mined it with thoughts of our future in mind, but if anything happened to me I wanted to leave her all the security that I could. Before meeting her I had never given any thought to such matters. It is peculiar how fast things change when one meets the woman he loves.
I knew that the girl could fend well enough on her own. Heck, she had up until now, hadn't she? It was just that I felt the need to comfort and protect, to take care of her every want. It was impossible, of course, to shelter her from life, but I wanted to make her life as easy as I could. If I should happen to be killed I wanted her to have something to fall back on. It would be nice if she didn't have to teach school if she didn't want to, or could leave this little town on a whim and travel wherever she wanted. That was the good thing that money gave - freedom to move around without worrying about the consequences.
Anne came running into my arms be the time I was half way up her walk. The little house that went with her job had never looked so good. Could she have spruced it up just for me?
"Oh, Jess, I missed you so!" she murmured into my neck.
"I missed you, too, baby; you don't know how much."
"I was worried that you might be attacked again. How long can you stay? Come on in and tell me all about it."
So the next few hours were spent on filling each other in on our news, and a lot of small talk only meaning anything to the lovers sharing it. I hated to tell her of the latest attack by the rifleman. I did, though, for I wanted to keep nothing from her. I knew she was the same way towards me.
I told her of the rich pocket of ore that I had found, and that while I believed it to be just a pocket, it might be enough to buy some land and start a small ranch. We had not talked of what this obviously meant; marriage, children and all the rest. It was an unspoken agreement, communicated with our eyes and hearts.
I left the sack of high grade with her, and she did not try to put on silly airs or refuse it. She simply accepted it with dignity, for we both knew what it signified.
I kept on towards Salt Lake City that very evening, for now that I was started I wanted to put an end to my problems as quickly as possible. When Anne walked me to my horse she said softly, "I love you, Jessie," and I responded in kind. We had never put it into words before and my heart soared in the clouds as I rode off. I was in rhapsody, so much so that I didn't see the pair of expressionless eyes that watched our final passionate embrace.
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