They walked down until they could see the roof of the mine shack below them, and there they tied off their horses at the spring. It was barest daylight now but light enough that they could see the shack and the rest of the mine camp. There was no smoke coming from the chimney on the far side of the shack. Haynes spoke first in a voice barely above a whisper. “Load ’em up.” He put the bag of ammunition on the ground. McBride and Kempton checked their handguns, and each took a handful for their long guns. Wootan and Haynes stuffed boxes of cartridges into their pockets and inside their shirts.

McBride tried to get them together to plan this out, to note the strategic positions and the available cover to be prepared before they approached the shack. He imagined stationing himself and one other, maybe Mart or Wootan, on either side of the door and taking the Powers one by one as they came out the door, pulling them to the side and down to the ground. There would be no reason for anyone to fire a shot. There should never be a reason to fire a shot if you plan your strategy beforehand.

But before he could get them together, Wootan took off, scrambling down the ridge behind the shack, holding his rifle high in his right hand. McBride saw what was happening and stood, for a second, stunned. Then he motioned for Kempton to follow and started down the ridge behind Wootan. He could hear Martin coming right behind him. Haynes, he presumed, was behind Kempton.

McBride saw Kane Wootan reach the bottom of the ridge, right himself, and head from the back of the shack, then around to the front. McBride followed, with Kempton right behind him. Then from the back, McBride heard someone lose his purchase and go down on the ground, giving out a yell of surprise as he fell.

There was a clatter and ringing of bells as horses rushed past them. McBride threw himself to the side of the trail and let the horses get by. They must be Power horses, he thought, spooked by Haynes, who had fallen behind him.

“Throw up your hands,” McBride heard, and knew that it had all gone bad.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

1918

Through the night, the cold came in waves. When Tom thought he couldn't bear to be any colder, his body would adjust, and he would fall asleep for a short while. Then another wave of cold rolled in, dropping the temperature even farther. He was happy to get up and take his watch and let Sisson try to deal with the cold while he huddled in his blanket next to the fire.

He woke as the sun came up, still sitting by the dying fire, which he was supposed to be tending. He looked around at Sisson, who was still wrapped in his blanket, though moving, and at John, who was staring at him.