Chapter 16: Convict's Agenda

Lucas and Micah were halfway down the mesa when they heard the initial gunfire. As they had feared, it looked like the bounty hunter had tried to ambush them alone.

Lucas urged Razor forward, "Come on Micah!"

"Dang fool idiot!" Micah spat. If the outlaws didn't take care of Broudy, Micah intended to.

As they reached the bottom and headed for the clearing, more gunfire erupted in rapid succession. Splitting up, Lucas headed through the thick scrub brush towards the rocky creek bed, while Micah circled around along the canyon wall.

Leaving his horse behind, Micah cautiously made his way around an outcropping of rocks. It was then he spotted Broudy's horse tethered near a narrow path which led upward towards the rocky terraces. From the ridge above, more gunfire went off. With the double barrel shot gun in hand, he made his way up as quickly as he could.

Meanwhile, the thick scrub brush was impeding Lucas' progress as he tried to make it down to the clearing. As he got closer, he saw two men struggling on the sandy shelf just above the rocky creek. One was struck down and the other quickly took off.

Leaving Razor behind, Lucas set out on foot the remaining distance. Keeping low he crossed the streambed and leapt onto the sandy rise where he approached the prone figure laying nearby. Turning him over, Lucas was startled to see how young the boy was. He was pale and motionless. Lucas check for a pulse then shook him.

Will opened his eyes to meet a pair of intense blue ones staring down at him. He swallowed hard. "Mr. McCain, I take it?"

Lucas nodded grimly looking down at the boy's leg which was saturated in blood. "You're hurt pretty bad son."

"Guess I got more than I bargained for," Will laughed weakly.

"My son, where is he?"

Will closed his eyes, his head swimming. "I'm sorry, never meant for this to happen… all my fault…Mark…"

Cold fear ran through him. Lucas gripped his rifle tightly. "What are you saying? What happened to my son?!"

Will struggled to remain conscious. "Trying to tell you…. saw you and the Marshal….thought Mark could get away. Roark…the money…." Will's eyes flew open again and he grabbed Lucas by the shirt with surprising strength. "Please Mr. McCain, hurry. Roark's gonna kill him!"

Lucas jerked. "Which way did they go?"

"Towards that hillside," Will pointed. "Tell… Mark…tell Mark I'm sorry… I really liked him… He's a good kid." His hand dropped weakly back.

"I will, son." Lucas got up and hurriedly left.

With some difficulty, Micah managed to make his way up the rocky path and onto one the terrace like ledges. On the ground nearby, he found several spent shell casings. Peering over the edge, he could see the clearing below. Broudy must have ambushed the riders from here. From his vantage point he saw two men lying prone. Neither was moving. Lucas was no where to be seen.

Backtracking, he headed further along the spiny crest where pillars of rock and natural crevices seem to offer numerous niches to hide. Micah had a bad feeling about this. A few minutes later he suddenly spotted movement up ahead.

One of the outlaws was cautiously retreating back down the path, his attention drawn to the direction he had just come from and heading directly towards Micah.

Alone and with one useless arm, Micah retreated into a niche between the rocks. He thought quickly. Setting the shotgun down, he withdrew his pistol and filled the chamber with his remaining few rounds. Watching the trail, Micah cocked the hammer before tucking it into his sling so that the barrel rested across his forearm. Then he picked up the shotgun and waited.

As the outlaw drew closer, Micah and rose from his hiding place. "Hold it right there!" Corbain looked up in surprise to see the double barrel shotgun pointed directly at him. "Drop your gun, mister." Corbain regarded the injured old marshal coolly, but made no move to comply. "I'd advise you to do as I say. I can guarantee you at this close a range a double barreled shotgun can leave a mighty nasty hole."

"You're probably right about that, Marshal," Corbain replied, reluctantly tossing the gun aside and raised his hands in the air. He cocked his head to the side. "So what now?"

"Now you're gonna tell me where the boy is."

"Would you believe me if I said I haven't the faintest idea."

"Not likely."

"Then I guess we're at a stand off."

"I'm not in the mood for any games, mister!" Micah said impatiently.

"Neither am I." Corbain laughed ironically. "I haven't got him. When the shooting started, the kid ducked for cover. He's probably back with his daddy by now."

Micah eyed the outlaw slowly. "For your sake, he better be." He jerked the shotgun at Corbain. "Now get moving."

Corbain glanced at the marshal's arm in the sling, gauging his opponent. "You really think you can take me in old man?"

"I aim to or we'll both die trying, son, I guarantee it! Now, keep your hands where I can see them, and start walking." Micah kept a close eye on Corbain as he slowly moved passed and started back down the trail.

They were about half way back when Micah was suddenly slammed up against the rocks from behind and felt a blazing pain through his forehead. He slumped to the ground.

Broudy stood over him. "Sorry, Marshal. But as I told you before, Corbain is mine."

Meanwhile, Lucas had spotted Mark making his was up the rocky hillside towards the mesa. He shouted to his son.

Mark turned at the sound and saw Lucas below still some distance away. His heart leapt with joy. "Pa!" he said excitedly.

Lucas quickly headed for his son. Mark turned to make his way back down when a bullet suddenly ricocheted off the rocks a few feet away. Startled, Mark suddenly lost his balance and before he could catch himself, slide several feet down. He jerked to a stop and let out of cry of pain as his right boot slipped into a crevice. Lucas' heart nearly stopped as he watched his son fall. For a moment Mark lay stunned, unable to move. Then, grabbing a hold of a nearby rock, he tried to leverage himself back out but his foot was wedged in tight.

"Mark, hold on son!"

As Lucas made his way up the incline he spotted Roark further ahead in between the rocks closing in on Mark from a slightly different direction.

Roark smiled as he saw Mark struggling to free himself. "No where to run now, aye brat!" Less than ten yards away, the crazed convict leveled his gun on a rock. This time, he wouldn't miss.

Lucas spotted Roark's hand extending outward from between two boulders. Without hesitation, he brought the rifle up and fired. Roark screamed in pain as the gun flew out of his hand.

Mark heard the rifle fire, followed by Roark's agonized cry and looked below to find the convict bent over clutching his bleeding hand. When he looked up, his face was contorted in rage. Mark searched the hillside for his father, but couldn't see him. "Pa! Pa! Where are ya?"

Clutching his mangled hand, Roark started advancing again. Frantically, Mark tried to free himself and in the process dislodged a couple of loose rocks nearby which tumbled down on top of the convict. It gave Mark an idea. He started pitching whatever rocks he could reach and work free down the hill.

Growling as another rock bounced past him, Roark veered to the side and started climbing parallel to Mark until he was now above him. He sneered down at the brat as he moved closer.

Lucas was fast approaching, but not before Roark had finally reached his son. "Thought you were pretty clever huh?! Well, your luck just ran out brat!" Roark awkwardly picked up a sizeable rock as Mark pressed himself against the hillside. He was trapped.

"You're gonna tell me where that money is kid or I'll bash this rock upside your head!"

"Leave that boy alone!" Lucas shouted, taking long scissor strides over the boulders. But he was still a good twenty yards away.

But Roark ignored him. He raised the rock high in the air. Mark covered his head and coward. Lucas saw Roark's intentions and did what was necessary to save his son.

Mark heard the rifle go off. He opened his eyes to see Roark standing before him as if frozen, his arm still raised. His eyes held a look of surprised shock as the rock fell harmlessly from his hand. Then, as if in slow motion, the outlaw teetered forward then toppled down the hill until he lay motionless at the bottom. He would not be getting up again.

Mark turned his head away from the sight.

Lucas quickly covered the remaining distance. Kneeling before his son, he grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Mark!"

Mark turned and raised his face to his father, his brown eyes wide.

"Pa," Mark said in amazement. He gripped Lucas' shirt wanting to make sure he was real. "Oh, Pa," Mark repeated. He threw his arms around his father's neck and hung on tight. Tears came to his eyes, but Mark made no effort this time to hold them back. They were tears of joy and relief. His ordeal was over and he was once again back with his father.

Lucas held his son close, his throat working hard.

"I knew you'd find me, Pa. I knew ya would." Mark said as he buried his face against his father's neck. Mark could feel the rough texture of several days grow of whiskers scraping his skin but he didn't care.

Slowly, Lucas pushed his son away and held him gently by the shoulders. Mark was scratched and bruised and covered in dirt. "Thank God you're all right, son." Lucas said softly, his mouth thinned with emotion.

Mark smiled back at his father, noticing his weary eyes and the lines of worry etched deep on his face, yet the blue eyes gleamed back at him with heartfelt relief.

"Are you hurt, boy?"

"No, I don't think so, but I'm stuck Pa."

"Let's have a look." With a little effort, Lucas was able to free Mark's foot.

He winced a little as he tried to put weight on it. "I think I twisted my ankle."

"Let's get you down off this hill, son." Leaning on his father, Lucas assisted him down. They were nearly to the bottom when Lucas heard more gunfire coming from the top of the cliff. He feared Micah was up there alone. He helped Mark over to a shaded clearing. "Wait here son 'till I get back."

He nodded. "Be careful Pa."

Lucas gripped the rifle, took one last look at his son to make sure he was alright, and headed towards the pass.