Adam Steele 32 by George G. Gilman

Author:George G. Gilman [Gilman, George G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Adam Steele, American Frontier, Best western ebook, Cowboy Fiction, Edge the Loner, Piccadilly cowboys, Pulp fiction writing, Spaghetti westerns, the Old West, Western, Western series, Westerns
Publisher: Piccadilly
Published: 2023-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

ADAM STEELE FINISHED the pie before he unhitched the mare from the wagon with the broken wheels and swung up astride the saddle. Rode out of the moon shadow of the live oak and reined in the horse at the point where the rutted track began.

Looked back over his shoulder, but not at the shack with a wedge of yellow lamplight pointing out of the open doorway across the yard. Instead, toward the hill slope north of the Harland homestead. Where Joseph Mitchell sat astride the gelding of Vic Judd, occupied with the process of reloading the single shot Springfield. Then, when Mitchell glanced up after sliding the reloaded rifle into the boot, the Virginian raised a hand and beckoned to him.

The half breed paused, as if he needed to be certain that he did not mistake the other man’s intention. Then thudded in his heels to gallop the gelding across the slope, did not break pace as water from the stream was flung high, and skillfully slowed his mount to close up with and move alongside the mare which Steele had started forward.

‘Did I tell you thanks for what you did, Joseph?’ the Virginian asked of the half breed with the features of an Apache and the pallor of a white. Who was finding it hard to control his excitement at being invited to ride with Steele.

‘Ain’t no need for that. Still owe you two.’

‘You have the gold, feller?’

Mitchell was abruptly suspicious and disappointed as he snapped his head around to stare at the man riding beside him: his face in the frame of the jet black hair now devoid of any trace of suppressed joy.

‘You want it, Mr. Steele? If you want it, you can have it. But it won’t make no difference to me owin’ you.’

He was totally the child-like white man now, in attitude, tone of voice and expression. Submissively docile, like a cruelly trained animal hat needs to have commands with which to comply.

‘I didn’t even steal that piece of apple pie back there, Joseph,’ the Virginian answered after the briefest of glances at his riding companion. ‘Reckon I can’t claim that I never stole anything from anybody. But I’m no—’

Now Mitchell was unable to control a short burst of laughter, as his joy at being invited to ride with Steele was resurrected and merged with relief that the Virginian did not have any financial motive in calling him forward.

‘Shit, that’s real fine, sir! And I guess I’m a fool for doubtin’ you! I’ve knowed you was okay from the time you hauled me outta the quicksand. Maybe before that—when you didn’t take no shot at me back on that beach when you first seen me. You’ve treated me real well, Mr. Steele. And a man like that—who don’t act toward a half Apache like he’s lower than horseshit, well … he ain’t the kind to turn right around and take from me all I got to give me a fresh start.’

‘Bad’s not fresh,

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