Benedict and Brazos 12 by E. Jefferson Clay

Author:E. Jefferson Clay [Clay, E. Jefferson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: westerns, heroes, gunfighters, the, Old, west, Piccadilly, publishing, wild, western, ebooks, James, Reasoner, Ron, Schwab
Publisher: Piccadilly
Published: 2023-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

The binoculars played over the yawning stone mouth of Domingo Pass and finally came to rest on the squat shape of the soldiers’ barracks at the base of the cliffs. Bo Rangle shifted his body into a more comfortable position on the ledge of rock that jutted out over a deep, tree-clothed valley and watched the distant figures going about their early morning chores.

He counted five. There had been five soldiers when he’d checked yesterday. He kept his glasses on the scene for several minutes without sighting any more troopers, then he lowered the field glasses and pressed a thumb and forefinger to his eyes.

“How many, Bo?” asked Pinky Gist, sprawled at his side.

“Still the same,” Rangle said, uncoiling to his feet. “And the more I look at that cabin, the more I’m convinced it wouldn’t hold more than five.” He grinned. “Looks like bein’ easier than we thought, Pinky. Come on, let’s get mounted.”

The outlaws walked a short distance to the grassy saucer where their horses stood tethered. Rangle and Gist had made the two-hour ride up from their camp in the Dinosaur foothills in darkness along an ancient Indian trail; the return journey was going to be much more comfortable by daylight.

They let the horses walk until they cut the trail, then gigged them into a trot. The trail led through some of the most spectacular scenery in the entire Dinosaur Range. They passed by towering crags and secluded valleys until they suddenly emerged on a plateau above a beautiful mountain lake. Even in the vivid mountain country where bright summer hues were commonplace, the concentration of brilliant color struck the sensibilities like a painted canvas. Thick beds of bright purple, yellow and crimson flowers crowded to the water’s edge. Between them and dividing the color belt from the big timber that followed the periphery of the lake, were green plots and aisles of short grass and moss that looked as if they had been mown or cropped.

Bo Rangle was in good spirits this bright mountain morning, for things were going well. He’d heard rumors that the strength of the soldier force at Domingo Pass could be as much as thirty. That figure had seemed too high to him, and the two trips he’d made to check the outpost out had confirmed his opinion. He’d been prepared to carve his way through thirty soldiers to get up to Tolley’s Basin; but five would be a pushover.

He’d taken a good look at the soldier boys. They moved about lazily. Their air of slothfulness was understandable. They were stuck up here to hell and gone from civilization with nothing better to do than to watch a heap of rocks and trees. Well, soon their monotony would be relieved ... violently.

The sun was well up when Rangle and Gist left the last of the heavy timber behind and rode over a succession of low, grassy hills towards the camp. The outlaws had set themselves up in an old prospector’s cabin in a green-grassed vale that lay in the shadow of a jutting white cliff.

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