Cole lay prone, Arnoldson close by, the horses some way off, munching at tufts of prairie grass. They were blown, the relentless urging of Cole bringing them close to the point of collapse. But now, all was calm. The trail proved easy to pick out. Pace, anxious to put as much distance as he could between himself and the fort, had thoughtlessly ridden his horse across the rolling plains, trampling down a path through the grass, an unmistakeable directional sign that anyone could follow.
“You won’t hit him from here,” grunted Arnoldson. He was peering through Cole’s field glasses.
“This has a range of a thousand,” said Cole, adjusting the Luttich’s calibrated sight. “Let’s see.”
He held his breath. Aimed.
The single shot rang out across the prairie, shattering the stillness, causing the
