5

“By morning,” Vickers continued, “a cordon of police officers and National Guard troops will have this mountain range completely surrounded. We’re establishing roadblocks on every road and trail that comes out of the range. If the storm holds off until daylight, the troops will begin to move into the mountains from all sides, and we’ll have helicopters up there to locate the fugitives. We’ve got them bottled up in there—they’ve got no way out. It’s only a question of time now.”

Ben Lansford’s outdoor eyes squinted at Vickers. He made a half turn and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, bobbing and ducking his head. A lot of excited talk ran around the yard. Lansford met Sam Watchman’s glance, ran a hand through his hair showing his desperation, and said in a lower voice than he’d used before, “You mean you’ve got these horses saddled right here and you’re not going in after them.”

Vickers stepped in. “Mr. Lansford, they’re only three horses. There are at least five heavily armed men out there. I don’t see taking the kind of risks we’d run with a three-man scavenger hunt.” Vickers made an elaborate sweeping arc with his arm and looked at his watch. “Once the fugitives have satisfied themselves there’s no way out of those mountains past the cordon of troops they’ll have to see the logic of releasing your wife and giving themselves up.”

“Will they?” Lansford said. “Would you?”

“Naturally.”

Lansford’s mouth clamped shut: rage swelled behind his eyes. You could see the obsession that had him in its grip. Five toughs had his wife. One look at Ben Lansford—bluff, loud, impatient, arrogant—and you knew the kind of conclusions he must have jumped to.

And it was little comfort knowing they might be the right conclusions.

Vickers said, “Try to relax, Mr. Lansford. We’ll keep you advised of every development. But right now there’s nothing for any of us to do but wait.”

Watchman’s hair rose. He had tried to convince himself it wasn’t going to come to this but that had been stupid. Obviously it was going to happen the same way every time Vickers found a theory that pleased him. Vickers and his kind had this marvelous ability to find ways to make all the facts fit the theory.

Vickers was continuing in his clumsy reassuring voice: “If the storm passes by we’ll move in right away at dawn. If it doesn’t, the fugitives won’t be going anywhere either. In either case, Mr. Lansford, thousands of men will ridgewalk every inch of those mountains if it becomes necessary. We’re good at what we’re paid to do. Trust us.”

Watchman turned. “I’d like a word with you.”

“Go ahead.”

“In private.” He turned past Vickers, went by the horse trailers and chose a spot behind the jeep.

6

Vickers came around the jeep, paused to step on the stub of his cigarette, looked up quickly as if to catch an unguarded expression on Watchman’s cheeks. “All right. What is it?”

“I’ve said this to you before. You’re not going to get this job done with armies and helicopters. Use your head—you got a make on them, you know they can take care of themselves in the woods. They’re not going to blunder into any traps. They’ve got a blizzard coming and they’ll use it.”

“If it pins us down it pins them down.”

“No. It gives them time to get ten thousand miles from here.”

Vickers just watched him with the patient attitude of a man giving him enough rope to hang himself.

Watchman showed his anger. “Do you have any idea of the size of the circumference of this range?”

“I’ve seen the map.”

“And you think you can seal it off with a cordon of troops?”

“Don’t be an idiot. We know the general area. We’re stringing lines of troops across the mountains ten miles east and ten miles west. We’ve got them boxed into a square, ten miles on a side.”

Watchman was unimpressed. “Forty-mile perimeter—how many troops, two thousand? Fifty men to the mile? A hundred feet between each man? And you don’t think five Green Berets can crawl through a hundred-foot gap in a blizzard without getting spotted?”

Vickers kept his face rigid with suppressed feelings. “Trooper, you’re in trouble with me.”

“Oh wow.”

“One. They’ve called out more like four thousand troops—so that narrows your gap a little, doesn’t it? Two. Our cordon won’t be standing still, it’ll be moving—and that means converging, the gap between men growing narrower all the time. Three. Even assuming somehow the fugitives did slip through the lines, they couldn’t get far on foot and if they tried stealing a car they’d be stopped by a police roadblock. Every road within forty miles of here is blocked at ten-mile intervals. No: let me finish. This is the last time you’re going to try and make a fool out of me. I don’t know what I’ve done to rub you the wrong way but you’ve thrown your last banana peel at me. Understand this: if I thought I was the wrong man for this job I’d step out. If the time does come, I’ll know before anybody else does. In the meantime I want no further interference from you. As far as I’m concerned you can go home right now and amuse yourself practicing your fast draw.”

“Not good enough,” Watchman said. “You’ve made a long speech. Fine. Now I’ll take equal time: One. They’ve got that man’s wife with them. What happens if they walk right up to your National Guard lines with a pistol at the woman’s head and use her as a hostage for safe conduct to the nearest Army helicopter? How many weekend soldiers do you know with balls enough to put up a fight when they’re using a woman for a shield? Two. Any Indian with a brain knows enough to get down on his belly and let a cordon walk right past him and then get up and fade into the landscape behind them. At least give your Green Berets credit for that much sense. Three. When the five of them get away scot-free and leave you with Mrs. Lansford’s dead body on your hands you won’t need any help from me to make a fool out of yourself. End of speech.”

7

When Watchman came around past the back of the trailer he saw Lansford sitting on the porch steps, dry-washing his clasped hands. Watchman signaled Buck Stevens and went to the horses. Untied two of them and began to lead them toward the horse trailer. Stevens trotted over to it and let down the tailgate ramp and Watchman went inside to lead the horses into the box. Stevens lifted the gate behind them and latched it shut, and Watchman climbed out over the slats.

Vickers was standing there. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Watchman glanced toward the house. Lansford sat holding his head as though it weighed half a ton. He was out of earshot. Watchman said, “I’m going to try and get his wife back for him.”

“Very noble.”

“No. It’s my job.”

“You’re living in the past, Trooper. This isn’t a one-man job. It isn’t one of those movies where the stalwart Indian scout goes out to rescue the captured white woman from the savages. You’re two men who put your pants on the same way I do and you think you’re going to win out against five well-armed soldiers who’ve got all the guts and all the technical know-how there is. They’re organized—you’re not. It takes a bigger organization to stop them. You’ll just get yourself killed—and probably get the woman killed too.”

Watchman checked the tailgate latches and turned. “You could try to stop me if you want.”

“Suppose we put a call in to your superiors and see what they say.”

“Go ahead.”

Vickers showed his surprise. “I will. You’ll wait right here until I have an answer.” And began to turn away.

“I guess not,” Watchman said, and went toward the cab of the truck.

Vickers gripped him by the arm and turned him back. “God damn you for a stubborn man. Do I have to put handcuffs on you?”.

Watchman just looked at him. “You could try.”