Page 70 of Dark Sky

Not with all the tracks outside in the snow, Joe thought.

“They know we’re in here,” he mouthed to Boedecker.

Boedecker nodded.

Price still sat in front of the heated coil. There was fear on his face. He looked from Joe to Boedecker and back to Joe.

“Answer him,” Boedecker whispered to Joe.

Before he could, Earl said, “We know you’re in there, Joe. We don’t want any trouble with you. We just want that son of a bitch Price. He has to pay for what he’s done.”

Joe glanced at Price. His face went slack and he closed his eyes as if to accept the inevitable.

“We know you’re not armed,” Earl called. “We took all your guns and gear. The best thing for you to do is to come on out and leave Price to us. You don’t owe that man anything.”

“C’mon, Joe,” Brad called out. He sounded closer than Earl, and to his left. “Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. We can start shooting right now. We’ve got enough firepowerto fill you all full of holes. Or we can light this shack on fire and pick you off when you come running out one by one.”

Kirby remained silent. Either he was hurt, not with them, or slinking along the outside of the cabin looking for a way in, Joe thought. He guessed the latter.

“Answer him,” Boedecker pleaded with Joe.

“I’m a dead man,” Price moaned.

Boedecker turned to Price. “You’ve put us in a bad spot,” he hissed. “Give yourself up to them. Be a fucking man.”

Price grimaced but he didn’t make a move.

Joe ignored both men while he surveyed the interior of the cabin once again. The log walls were old and crumbling but solid. There was no way they could batter their way out through the sides or back. Then he looked up and swept his eyes along the center beam and the sagging trusses that held up the warped sheets of plywood roofing. He could see gaps and exposed nails in the plywood sheets where they’d pulled away from the two-by-fours.

“Fuck it,” Boedecker announced.

“Don’t—” Joe started to say.

“We’ve got your boy in here, Earl,” Boedecker shouted. “You can have him if you let Joe and me come out the door.”

“Is that you, Brock?” Earl asked.

“It’s me.”

“Is Joe in there with you?”

“He is.”

“Why ain’t he talking?”

“Who the fuck knows?” Boedecker said, and he plucked thespeargun from the top of the table and held it at the ready. Joe couldn’t fathom what the rancher’s strategy was.

“Please,” Price said to Boedecker as he stood up and backed away until he was pressed against the log wall. “Please don’t hand me over to them.”

“Shut up,” Boedecker said as he raised the speargun at Price. Joe leapt toward Boedecker, but as he did the rancher aimed and pulled the trigger. The speargun made the metallicthunkand the projectile flashed across the room and pinned Price to a log just above his clavicle and inside his shoulder. Price screamed out.

“That’ll hold him,” Boedecker said to Joe.

Joe was beside himself. “Brock, what did you do?”

“I saved our lives, Joe.” Then he tossed the speargun receiver to the floor and yelled out, “Come and get him, Earl. He ain’t going nowhere now.”

“I hope you ain’t killed him,” Earl called from outside. “That’smyprerogative.”