“Travis is at the village,” Eric pleaded. “Send someone to tell him what’s happening. I want to be here when they come.”

“Travis doesn’t know how to work with dynamite. Besides, he’s only been with us a month. He’s a good man, but not proven. Not in this kind of a conflict. I will feel much better with you there.”

“The village needs you, Ricky.” That came from a man near the back.

“He’s right, Eric,” Karl said soberly. “We need you here, but the village needs you more. If you see them enter the valley, let Travis light the charges. You get the people up Dead Rock Canyon and into the high country.”

Eric suddenly surrendered, remembering his useless protest with Cliff, feeling the same sick feeling he had felt then.

Fred Carlyle trotted up, a large dun quarter horse in tow. “Your rifle is in the scabbard, Ricky,” he said, handing him the reins.

Eric looked quickly around the circle of tight-lipped, grimfaced men. The only sound was the soft rushing of the river off to their left. These were the men with whom he had grown up, played, hunted, worked, worshipped. The sick feeling became a heavy dread pressing down on him. Finally his gaze met his father’s.

“We’ll have a few surprises for them here,” his father said quietly. “Maybe we can turn them back, but we can’t take that chance. Take care of your mother and sisters.”

Eric nodded numbly, then swung up into the saddle.

“The Lord be with you.” It was Karl Lloyd’s standard farewell when anyone left the village for any length of time, but now it pierced Eric like the thrust of a knife.

He took a deep breath. “And with you,” he answered softly. Then with a savage jab of his heels, he sent the dun exploding into a hard lope around the barricade and across the bridge toward the valley road.

Travis Oakes had evidently been watching down the valley, for he came trotting down the main street, rifle in hand, and met Eric just beyond the first houses of the village. “Eric,” he called, “what are you doing here? Where are the others?”

“At the river bridge,” Eric answered as he pulled up the horse and swung down. He gave the lathered animal a quick slap on the rump, as he pulled the rifle out of the scabbard and turned to face Travis. “Come on, we’ve got big trouble.” He started up the street, leaving Travis staring at him.