Josh cussed, then spit, then cussed again. They were still down there, and getting closer.
Ten of them, on horseback, packing Peacemakers and Winchester repeaters. Josh had his knife, his coach gun with only one shell, and that heavy as hell bag of double eagles he had stolen just two hours ago.
Damn. He shouldn’t have fired that warning shot during the robbery. Not only had he accidentally killed the teller (some warning shot) but he was down to only one round.
Horses snorting told him they were closer. Nearing the base of the cliff. Another ten minutes, and he’d swing for sure. Josh did not like the idea of swinging.
There were a few cracks leading up the cliff behind him. If he left his shotgun and the gold behind, he might be able to make it.
Ten feet up the cliff, Josh looked. They still hadn’t seen him. Without warning the rattler stuck deep into his hand as he reached into a crevasse . Falling, landing next to the shotgun, Josh new what he had to do.
Horses spooked from the sound of the gunshot.

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