Benedict and Brazos 13 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

Fifty miles to the south-west, one of the finest soldiers the colonel had ever met, and the man who had been born and bred in the wilds, were riding into an ambush.

Brazos saw the buzzards first, wheeling dark shapes against the burnished sky to the north-west. The distance was still too great to see what it was that had attracted their attention, but the big Texan could tell by the way they frequently rose and settled that they were feasting.

“Somethin’ dead up yonder,” he grunted as they reined in beside a stand of Spanish Dagger.

“Should we take a look?”

“Let’s just hold on a spell. The dust is clearin’ some. We might be able to figure out what it is.”

They sat their horses in silence with the hot sun beating down across their shoulders. They were on scout for Hanline, some two hours north-west of the Ranger column. It had been at Benedict’s insistence that they’d struck out on the patrol at first light. After two days of travel with the Rangers, traveling by night and resting by day as Hanline made his cautious way west, Benedict had grown restless and impatient, insisting that he and Brazos should rove a little farther afield. Hanline had not been keen on the idea, but when Brazos had finally agreed with Benedict that they should cast their net wider, the captain had reluctantly gone along with them. Hanline had supplied them with fresh mounts from the remuda in place of their horses which were still showing the effects of that grueling, six-hour gallop across the plains. Brazos had also left footsore Bullpup back with the company, but he found himself wishing now that he’d brought him along. He could have sent the dog ahead to sniff out the terrain.

Several minutes later, with the dust diminishing as the hot plains breeze faded, Brazos stood in his stirrups and could make out a dark bulk against the earth.

“Horse,” he murmured. “Can’t see no sign of a rider.”

“Let’s take a closer look.”

With a nod, Brazos kneed his bay gelding forward. They couldn’t afford to pass up anything out here that might help them in their quest for Judah Wardlock. Since joining up with the Rangers, they’d seen no sign of life other than the eternal buzzards and the occasional wolf and coyote.

The buzzards rose in a squawking mass as they drew closer. Brazos scanned the terrain surrounding the dead animal with narrowed eyes. The horse lay on a dead flat section of plain. The country immediately surrounding the beast was too featureless to hide a gopher. There was a ridge, but it lay well to the north and far out of rifle range. He began to relax a little.

One buzzard, more daring than the rest, came to ground beyond the dead horse. It defied them with harsh cries; then, as they drew closer, it made off in cantering hops, then half turned with a cringing air, as if clutching something shameful to the stiff feathers of its breast.

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