Adam Steele 30 by George G. Gilman

Author:George G. Gilman [Gilman, George G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: American westerns, Best western ebook, Edge, Piccadilly cowboys, Spaghetti westerns, Steele, Terry Harknett
Publisher: Piccadilly
Published: 2022-08-31T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

THE RAIN HELD off, but Steele donned his slicker against the mist which was of the kind that was capable of soaking a man through to the skin before he was aware of it.

When dusk came, he could see no more than twenty feet and because of the sparseness of vegetation on the high plain it would have been difficult to stay on the trail but for the fact that it was clearly marked with recent sign. Many shod horses had moved in both directions along this stretch of trail and he guessed this meant he was getting close to the isolated army post of Fort St James—close enough to be within the eastern range of patrols from the fort.

‘Ain’t much of a place and don’t reckon it’ll be there very long,’ the grizzled old fur trapper had told him. ‘The army, anyway. And knowin’ the army the way I do, there’s a good chance they’ll tear the place down and haul it off with ‘em when they leave. Real old place it is, son. Built there first to protect people like me from the Shoshone and Paiutes who didn’t take kindly to us trappers. But there never was too many hostiles that far up in the mountains. Just a band of renegades here and there. Not enough to make a fort worthwhile.

‘Then some minin’ men were checkin’ for gold and silver up near there. Big company men, you understand. Not your hopin’ “to-strike-it-lucky” prospectors. After that, some big money men with government connections sent crews into the area to survey for a railroad. They came up empty, same as the minin’ fellers.

‘After that was all done, the blue-bellies at Fort St James didn’t have nobody and nothin’ to protect except themselves and their post. Reason the post is still there is that back in Washington the top brass is considerin’ turnin’ old St James into an army penitentiary. For them soldier boys that go bad in the Department of the West and the Department of Oregon military areas. Been tryin’ to make up their minds about it for better than two years now.

‘Feelin’ of most of the men assigned to St James is that the place is already a prison. And they been sentenced to go there even though they ain’t done nothin’ wrong.

‘It ain’t a happy place, son. And me and fellers like me who trap in these mountains, we go there only when we gotta. And we don’t spend no time there unless we gotta.’

With the night came the rain which after a few minutes turned to sleet, driven by a wind from out of the north-west. But by that time the Virginian had glimpsed a splash of yellow lamplight up ahead. And even if he had known the old fur trapper was understating the situation at Fort St James he would still have used every ounce of concentration to home in on the light that was seen for just a moment before the weather blotted it out.

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