A Bullet for Billy the Kid by Will Henry

Author:Will Henry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction
Publisher: Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

The eight-foot split-log stockade around the St. Vrain mansion gave Kirby a pause—a pause long enough for him to ease up to it, pull himself to the top, and swing-vault to the opposite side. He hadn’t more than landed when he saw the lantern flash down by the carriage gate and heard the crunch of wheels on the gravel drive. He went into cover like a coyote running the length of the tree-lined drive ahead of the approaching horses. Inside the carriage house, he stepped behind a parked landau, pressed back into the shadows, and waited noiselessly. The beam of the brougham lamps, entering the building, flicked across him to light up a face-splitting grin.

The girl brought up the bays, wrapped the lines expertly, stepped down off the driving box and out into the lamplight almost before Kirby’s grin died away. There were still traces of it lifting the corners of his mouth when he stepped up behind her.

“ ’Evenin’, ma’am,” he murmured, his left arm sliding around her neck with the greeting. The girl’s gasp was cut off in its infancy as the crotch of the lean arm tightened on her throat. At the same time a rough buckskin gag whipped across her mouth and cinched down on her struggling tongue. Finding a convenient bundle of hay, the mountain man set dutifully about what he had come to do—turning the spoiled St. Vrain brat over his bony knee and whaling the tar out of her.

Applying his outsize hand to the bobbing target beneath it, Kirby’s pleasures were not entirely derived from objective feelings of poetic justice. By cripes, that little nubbin bottom of hers wasn’t so little and nubbiny, after all. And it wasn’t just her bottom that missed being puny, either. The mountain man felt another pair of firm bobbles where her squirming front lay across his knee. Still, the trapper didn’t let his gift for quick physical assay alleviate the force of his primary object. She strained and twisted in his grasp, perfect slim fury, but the hand that could neck-down an eight-hundred-pound Indian pony wasn’t too tired. What terminated the spanking was the coming bob of a lantern from down the drive.

Of course! The Negro who had let her in down at the gate would be coming along to the carriage house to see to the horses. He’d have to let up on her, or else he wouldn’t have time to give her a good look at him before he had to make his tracks. Easing up off the hay bundle, he straightened, spinning the girl around to face him.

“Take a good look, honey,” he said, his voice purring through his wide grin, “so’s next time ye run over this son ye’ll know him!” As the words got out of him, Kirby began to see what she was looking at. The grin fell open and became a gape.

The girl’s eyes flared at him, green as a trapped she-wolf’s, her nostrils spread thin and wide, whistling with the breath in them.

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