Loius L'Amour The Tall Stranger

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back.
Whatever he had been shot by, Dud Kitchen was willing to take an
oath it had been neither a Walker nor a dragoon Colt. The hole was much
smaller. The chest of the man had been frightfully torn. Sometimes men cut
their bullets off flat across the nose to make them kill better. Dud had seen
that done. It usually tore a man up pretty bad.
Chapter VI
Johnny Stark brought the news of the fight to Rock Bannon. He was
with Bishop at the time, and the old man's face hardened.
"Well, there it is, Rock! We can't give them any more time now.
They've had their chance, and from now on she'll be open warfare." Bishop
looked up at Stark. "Take six men back with you. Have Monty go with the
buckboard and bring Lew here to the ranch house, where he can have proper
care. You tell Red I want to see him, but he'll be in charge when he goes
back."
Rock got up and paced the floor. He ran his fingers through his
shock of black, curly hair. His face was stern and hard. He knew what this
meant. One man had gone down, Johnny said. From his description of the man it
would be Collins, one of the good men. That would serve to unite the settlers
in a compact lot. Despite all his desire to avoid trouble, they were in for it
now, and it would be a case of dog eat dog. What would Sharon think of all
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this?
Hastily, he computed the numbers at the townsite. Their numbers
were still slightly inferior to those on the Bishop ranch, but due to expected
Indian trouble and the stock, many of the Bishop hands must remain on the far
ranges.
"I'm going out," he said at last. "I'm going down to Poplar. Also,
I'm going to have a look in that canyon where Harper's stuff was cached."
"You watch yourself, boy!" Bishop said. He heaved himself up in
his chair. "You take care! I'm figurin' on you havin' this ranch, and I ain't
wantin' to will it to no corpse."
Rock hurried down to the corral and saw Johnny Stark leading out
the steel-dust, all saddled and ready.
"I figured you'd be ridin', Rock," he said grimly. He handed the
reins to him and started to turn away, then he stepped back.
"Rock," he said, "somethin' I been goin' to tell somebody. I
forgot to mention it back there. Rock, I don't think any of us killed
Collins!"
Bannon wheeled and grabbed the cowhand by the arm. His eyes were
like steel. "What do you mean? Give it to me, quick!"
"Hey!" Johnny said. "Ease up on that arm!" He grinned. "You got a
grip like a bear trap." He rubbed his arm. "Why, I been thinkin' about that
ever since. Bat was thinkin' only of Zapata. I shot at that Miller, the guy
you whipped. I got his horse. Lew, he burned that long lean mountain man along
the cheek, tryin' for a head shot. Actually, this here Collins hombre was off
to our left. None of us shot that way."
"You're sure about that?" Bannon demanded.
His mind was working swiftly. If one thing would arouse anger
against Bishop among the settlers, it would be the killing of one of their own
number, and particularly one so well liked as Collins had been.
Bannon stared at the rider. "Did you see anybody near him? Who was
over at that side?"
"This here Collins hombre who got shot was in the front rank,"
Johnny said. "Then there was a heavyset, sandy sort of guy with a beard, and a
tall hombre in a white hat with a dark coat."
The bearded man would be Lamport, the man in the white hat was
Mort Harper.
Rock Bannon swung a leg over the saddle. "Johnny, you tell Red to
sit tight," he said. "I'm riding to Poplar."
"Want me along?" Stark asked eagerly. "You better take some help.
Those hombres are killin' now. They're in a sweat, all of them."
Rock shook his head. "No, I'll go alone," he said. "Tell Red to
wait at the cabin."
Rock wheeled the gray and cut across the valley. There was still a
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chance to avoid a battle if he could get to Poplar in time, yet he had a
feeling that Harper would not wait. Hostilities had begun, and that was what
he had been playing for all the time. Now he had his excuse to wipe out the
Bishop forces, and he would be quick to take advantage of it.
Yet before he was halfway down the valley, he reined in on the
slope of a low hill. Miles to the south he could see a group of horsemen
cutting across toward the line cabin. Bat Chavez was there, alone with the
wounded Murray.
Red would be starting soon, but would get there too late to help
Bat or Murray. Within a matter of half an hour they would be attacking. From
where he was it would take him all of that time and probably more to reach
them. There was no time to go back. Wheeling the stallion, he started down the
valley, angling away from the group of riders.
In the distance, around the peaks towering against the sky, dark
clouds were banking. A jagged streak of lightning ripped the horizon to shreds
of flame, then vanished, and there was a distant roll of thunder, muttering
among the dark and distant ravines like the echoes of distant battle.
The gray horse ran through the tall grass, sweeping around groves
of aspen and alder, keeping to the low ground. He splashed through a swale,
crested a long, low hill that cut athwart the valley, and turned at right
angles down the draw toward the cover of the far-off trees. The cool wind [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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