The moments of relief Jean Blakely had briefly enjoyed at the realization that Mark was not about to make an issue of the night before, and especially, tell all to Steve as he'd threatened, were short-lived. The shared emotions were no less predominant in Carol Foster. Though pleased at Mark's decision to spare her young husband's feelings, his revealed plans to definitely destroy Caesar and his pack had nearly sickened her with concern.
Throughout the morning, the two young wives had attempted to console one another, but by noon when Steve arose and left the house to join the posse, they knew that their efforts were useless. Both had reached a state of near-panicky concern for the welfare of the massive wild animal they had uncontrollably come to love!
"Still, honey… he's managed to elude all attempts they've made so far," Carol reminded her lovely, blonde-haired hostess over their umpteenth cup of coffee. "Is there any reason to believe he can't go on doing it…?"
"Only the law of averages, Carol," Jean replied, her small hand trembling as it raised the cup, her smoky-blue eyes level with the willowy brunette's incandescent, dark ones. "And up until now, Mark hasn't entered the hunting picture. He's determined, Carol… determined to destroy Caesar… and I can't let him do that!"
Carol Foster watched the full lower-lip of her closest friend solicitously quiver, the tears that had been ever present all morning once more dampening the beautiful young wife's alluring eyes. "But… but, darling, why do you think he'll be more successful than Link Morgan, or the others? You, yourself, said that the chief of police is considered the most skilled hunter in the valley…"
"Oh Carol… don't you see?" Jean tried to explain. "Mark is a very capable hunter, himself, and certainly a much more thorough man than Morgan. There'll be no liquor passing around amongst the men this time… and most of all, Mark has a very personal reason, or believes he has, to want the beautiful animal dead! Oh God…!"
Carol needed no resume concerning the latter fact. Though she could well understand his jealous reasoning, her sympathy was with Jean. Wasn't she, herself, nearly as much under the handsome animal's spell as the golden-haired girl seated across from her? Fleeting moments of her first night in the house when Caesar had mistakenly come to her, flashed through the vivacious brunette's anxious mind. Yes… yes, Jean was right; they just couldn't sit there and let those men destroy the erotic beast…!
"Oh Jean… wh-what can we do…?"
"I-I don't know, Carol, but I've got to try and do something… at least, somehow warn him that they're out to kill him!" the young, curvaceous blonde wife exclaimed, suddenly getting to her feet.
"But how, darling? I want to help, too!" the other earnestly declared. "But… but where do we start?"
"I-I'm not sure… somewhere out in those hills, I suppose!" Jean wildly reasoned. "I-I know we'll never find him… but maybe he'll find us!" She stared excitedly into Carol's sparkling eyes, her decision to act restoring some measure of confidence. "I-It's the only way I know to help him! Are… you with me, Carol…?"
"Yes… yes! It may be crazy, but I agree, honey… we have to do something!"
"Then, come on… let's change into clothes a little more practical for scouting!"
Link Morgan was a very infuriated man by the time he reached the Crescent Inn Tavern. Not only had he not slept in over twenty-four hours, but he'd just been thoroughly out-maneuvered by a cock-happy, spirited bitch named Lydia Newell! Without the slightest qualm, she had brazenly devoided him of his luscious, fuckable, suckable young niece Annie, and he didn't know how nor if, there was a Goddamned thing he could do about it! Then, before he'd had time to regroup his mental forces, Frank Clifford had stood at his door saying something about a hunting posse being formed to wipe out the wild-pack with Mark Blakely leading it, and the deputy would like him to ride with them!
Shit, he could ill afford not to, and that was the truth! With three of his wanted, teenaged pushers hiding out in those hills, he damned sure didn't intend that Blakely should stumble onto them! Not that he gave a damn for their welfare, but sure as hell they'd crack under questioning and implicate him! He knew well enough where they were hidden and it shouldn't be too difficult to steer the deputy and his bunch clear of the place…
Sonofabitch, he thought as he drove toward the inn, following Clifford in his pick-up, he'd think of some way to counter that Lydia bitch's lesbianistic piracy! He wasn't about to give up his little Annie after just turning on the nympho sex in her! Not by a damn sight!
His powerful legs trembled as he climbed from the car and walked toward the inn, a combination, he realized, of no sleep and the wild fucking of lecherous young Lydia Newell taking their toll. Christ, that part of it had almost been worth the fee, he luridly thought, but not quite. His niece's sixteen-year old, rounded white tail of the pair, had a lot more lustful miles in it, and somehow he intended to reclaim its hot, youthful beauty…!
"What the hell's going on, Blakely?" the big man growled, grabbing a chair at Mark's table and dropping down onto it. "What's this about a posse?"
The young deputy sheriff glanced at Steve Foster across from him, then calmly advised the arrogant police chief of his plans and how he'd selected the other hunters. Finally, he added: "No liquor, Link… not on this mission."
"Wh-What the hell's it going to be, a meeting of the A.A. for Christ's sake?" the big man spat, his blood-shot, mean eyes and whiskey-flushed face twisted in a half-grin. "Hell, a man needs a nip or two out there to keep him going, Deputy. I don't know about any of the rest, but I'm taking a pint with me…"
"Then, we'll count you out of this expedition, Link," Mark said, with a matter-of-fact pencil-strike through the police officer's name on the paper. "I said, there'll be no booze on this posse…"
"And who the hell are you to give the orders in my town, Blakely?" the barrel-chested man angrily snarled, kicking back his chair and standing, his huge hands balling into ham-like fists.
The sound of male voices around them suddenly died into silence, but in several reminiscing minds, a shivering, similar occurrence of years past was vividly recalled! It too, had dealt with a Blakely, Mark's father, and this very same police chief had been his antagonist! Even Mark couldn't help but note the shuddering parallel, for it'd been shortly following his dad's public beating of Morgan that he'd been accidentally shot and killed while riding in a hunting posse… and by the huge man who stood ragingly before him!
With every ounce of effort he could muster, Mark forced his own anger under control as he stared unflinchingly upward into the big man's fury-reddened face. "It may well be your jurisdiction in town, Link, but outside those city limits, it's mine… and we'll do this my way! That's final! There'll be no liquor before or while we ride! If you're agreeable, we want you with us… and that's the way it is, Link!"
The powerful man's strained breathing filled the room. There was no question to any tensed occupant there but that he was struggling desperately to determine his next move, though they could hardly reason how or why he decided as he did. Only the big police chief, himself, realized that he couldn't chance discovery of the three wanted teenagers hiding in the hills. But there were other ways… one in particular that was evilly forming in his enraged brain. He'd been shamed in front of everyone, just as the sonofabitch's old-man had publicly shamed him… and no one could do that to Link Morgan and get away with it…!
Mark carefully watched the other, trying to anticipate any sudden move he might make. And then, he heard the massive man's sudden release of breath, indicating that the immediate crisis might be passed.
"All right, Blakely… okay," Link Morgan huskily said. "You win this round. I-It's more important that we finish off that Goddamned wild-pack first… then, you and me… we'll settle our differences man to man, once and for all! Agreed?"
Mark shrugged his young, broad shoulders. "If that's what you want, Link. I'm ready anytime… after this Caesar menace is done away with."
"Good… then, let's get to destroying the fucking mutt-rapist and his pack!" the big man growled. "I'm ready…!"
"And so are the rest of us, Mark!" Frank Clifford put in. "Okay," Mark nodded, getting to his feet. "We'll use cars as far as Frank's ranch. The horses are there waiting for us. Any questions…? Then, let's go…!"
The sun had reached slightly beyond its zenith when Jean Blakely and Carol Foster in shirts, slacks and rubber-soled tennis shoes, all that Jean could find, alighted from their car. Jean had driven the vehicle into the deserted old quarry at the base of an easily accessible foot-hill, confident that it was not apt to be discovered there. She had kept presence of mind enough to bring along a canteen filled with water, which she could carry over her shoulder, and both girls had stuffed crackers in their pockets, just in case…
Moving upward at an untiring gait, the young wives talked sparingly, as if conserving their energies. Often, they stopped to listen to the great silence growing heavier around them as they ascended, hoping to hear a bark or howl which could give them a direction to follow. But they heard nothing, with the exception of the ever-increasing, hushed wildness surrounding them.
If nothing else, Jean thought, following a little apprehensive twinge at one point when she glanced back, the hushed tranquillity was certainly conducive to looking into one's soul! And that, she had been doing for the past hour as they climbed… wondering how it was all going to end, and what was to happen between Mark and herself. There was no question in her mind but that she loved him as much, perhaps more, than ever… though he might well come to hate her for what she was doing! But even so, she had to do it, had to try and protect her animal-lover… the handsome dog that had brought her such unequalled, sensual pleasure these past days… and nights! Dear God… she couldn't imagine him dead… murdered… a bullet ripping into his beautiful loving body and perhaps from Mark's very rifle…!
"Hey…! Maybe, we should take a little rest, honey?" Carol said, catching hold of her arm and moving around to look into her face. "Y-You're crying! What is it, baby…? Don't worry, we'll find him in time…"
Jean sniffled loudly and nodded her head, making the pony-tail she'd quickly formed her long blonde-hair into, bob cutely to her dark-eyed friend. "I-I was just thinking, is all," she said, finding a hankie and blowing her nose.
Carol took the canteen and drank from it, then passed it to Jean who capped it without drinking. The willowy brunette was looking back toward the general direction of the route they'd followed, an anxious expression momentarily clouding her attractive face. Jean saw it, then watched the girl look upward at the position of the sun.
"I-It's getting on," Carol said. "Did you bring a watch?"
"No."
Again, her vivacious partner looked skyward. "Must be around four-o'clock. Still some four hours or more of daylight. D-Do you think you can remember the way back, Jean?"
For a moment, the blonde wife didn't answer. Then: "I'm not sure… but Caesar'll know the way, once we find him!"
Carol uncontrollably snapped a sharp, discerning glance at the other, reading the desperation in Jean's wide, blue eyes. God, they appeared almost vacant for one brief second, and she couldn't help but wonder if the reoccurring effects of the LSD wasn't again creeping over her! Oh Lord, she hoped not! And there was a storm brewing off to the east, heavy, dark menacing clouds that were rapidly moving in their direction! Damn… had they made a foolish mistake coming into these deceiving hills this way…?
"M-Maybe, we should start back down, Jean," the lithesome brunette suggested in a catching voice. "It's getting late, and there's a storm coming, see…?"
Jean looked at her in surprise, almost as if she could hardly believe her friend's words. She began to answer by shaking her head. Then: "I have no intentions of going back down until I find him, Carol! I've got to warn him, don't you understand? You go back if you want… take the water… but I'm going on… right down through that gully and up that furthest hill! I don't know whether I'm right or not, but it has a remote look… wild and forbidden enough to be the sort of place he would go…!"
"Damnit, Jean!" Carol gasped. "I just can't go off and leave you up here like this! Please… try to realize that he's a very capable animal, and that he's stayed alive this long! We've done our best…!"
"No, I said! I'm not going back down, Carol!" Jean distraughtly exclaimed. "I've got to find him! I'd never be able to live with myself if I didn't try to stop the killing of one of my lovers by another! How could I? Here, take the water! I'm going on…!"
"Wait!" Carol called after her when the voluptuous pony-tailed blonde had taken a half-dozen steps.
"Well…?" Jean replied, turning to face her friend.
"Well…? Well, shit! I'm going with you! What do you think…?"
Mark's posse, with both him and Link Morgan riding lead horses, ascended into the hills at a pace-sparing rate, designed to save the animals until something concrete gave them a sign. The hours beneath the hot, California sun passed slowly, but by late afternoon they were well into the depths where Mark began to feel they would find something. After a rest period in which they ate and drank lightly, they progressed toward a thick wooded and brush-filled area, finding their first indications.
The remains of a recently killed sheep were scattered about, along with the obvious stool of dogs, sufficient to advise both Mark and Link Morgan that the wild-pack had been there not too many hours before.
"What do you think, Link?" the young deputy questioned the older and more experienced hunter.
"Well… after this, my guess would be they'd head for water," the big man said. "Probably off to the south toward Wiley's Stream. That's the nearest," he added, hoping the other wouldn't see through his lie.
"How about the pond?" Mark asked, nodding his head eastward in the general direction of a spring-fed, small body of water he was familiar with. "Red-Heart mountain is there, too, and honeycombed with caves… perfect lairs for them to avoid the elements, like that storm that's coming up."
"No… I don't think so," Morgan replied without looking at him. "This sonofabitch is too smart to pick the obvious. Besides, we scoured that area last night…"
"Maybe," Mark said, looking off toward the sky-rising hill called Red-Heart, his own intellects drawing him in that direction. "But I still think that's where he… they, might hole-up. It's a perfect terrain for that uncanny brute to ferret out…"
"I don't know, Mark," Frank Clifford put in. "I don't want to interfere, but Link's got a good point. Besides, if the posse last night covered that area, no use of backtracking."
His timely butting-in was all Link needed. Trying not to show it, he leaped onto the opening. "Well… the deputy's got a point, too. We covered that ground at night… could be more productive in daylight."
"So…? What you got in mind, Link?" Frank Clifford asked.
"An idea… that maybe we should split up. There's twenty-two of us all together… more than enough divided to take care of that fucking horde should either group come across them," the scheming police chief said, knowing that he'd have to somehow slip away from his group to do what he intended. But that wouldn't be too difficult, and he knew these hills like the back of his hand. He could find Blakely's posse with little effort, then, completely destroy the broken-down rifle he had carried in his saddlebag purposely for the job… after it was done!
"I don't know," Mark started, somehow uneasy with the idea of splitting the men. But several more came forward in agreement, finally persuading him. "Well… all right, if all of you think it's best," he said, glancing toward Steve who was constantly making notes. "Chief Morgan will head one group, and I'll handle the other. We'll plan to meet at Razor Ridge. Whichever group gets there first, waits for the other. Should any of us hear a lot of shooting, we'll know the others have discovered the pack. Okay?"
A conglomeration of agreements filled the mountain air. Then, Mark added: "Should either party come onto them, I insist there be no brutality, understand? Kill them quick and clean!"
"Right!" Frank Clifford and several others chimed in.
"Okay," Mark said. "Let's decide who's riding with whom…?"