Avenging Angels- Wild Bill's Guns by A W Hart

Author:A W Hart
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781647341671
Publisher: Wolfpack Publishing
Published: 2020-04-15T04:00:00+00:00

6

The cold Colorado River awoke Apache instantly, and he clawed his way to the surface. He swam against the current to a floating body. One sniff and he knew it was not anyone he cared about. Another splash nearby caused him to turn.

This one was face-down in the water, too. Apache swam to it, and before he got there, he knew it was Reno. He barked as he swam, but Reno did not respond.

Taking his secondary master behind his beloved Sara by the collar, he began to swim toward the shore. Since Reno was face-down, it was lucky it was close.

He dragged Reno’s body as far as he could up onto what was actually a sandbar and not the shore. But while wet, it was not over half an inch deep.

Apache butted at Reno with his head and licked his ear. Finally, Reno moved. He rolled over and gasped. Then, he rolled back over and threw up everything he had eaten recently. He crawled on all fours to the edge of the sandbar and washed his mouth out in the current. There was a body stuck on a snag a few feet into the current. Reno splashed in and got it and began to drag it to the sandbar. Apache helped.

The man was dead. Since there was no rigor mortis or damage from bumping off the bottom, boats, or snags, Reno figured he had been thrown in near the time he had.

The man had a coat on. Reno checked it for a wallet for some sort of clue to his identity. None there. Like Reno’s dress pants, the man’s pants had no pockets.

Reno’s, however, had a leather bag with all of their gold and silver coins inside his hip, hooked to where his suspenders buttoned. And they were still there.

The man was burlier than Reno, but his coat would be passable. His feet were bigger, but wearing his and Reno’s socks would make them work until replacement boots could be found.

He was not wearing a gun, or if he had been, the murderers had lifted it. But they’d missed the mid-size eight-inch blade Bowie in his boot, complete with sheath. Reno did not miss it, although not having to walk to back to Hardyville barefoot was the best find.

It was ten miles to Hardyville, and many more on to Sonora. It was unclear to Reno whether there was even a path the whole way. He should make it in time to buy a gun and make the noon riverboat. He stood over the man’s body and recited the Lord’s Prayer quickly.

Man and dog began the trek back north along the river.

Reno thought along the fast walk. He needed guns, enough for him and Sara—this time, ones with power. At least .36s, and.44s would be better. He hoped he could get them in Hardyville, but was worried he might have to go all the way back to Prescott.

Reno walked through the night and arrived at Hardyville around dawn. The freight and transportation center never seemed to sleep.

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