Big Jim 9 by Marshall Grover

Author:Marshall Grover
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: winchester rifle, colt 45, piccadilly publishing, western frontier fiction, us old west, outlaws and lawmen, leonard meares, big jim rand, marshall grover westerns, 1880s old west adventure
Publisher: Piccadilly

Seven – Decision of the Hunters

It was a brief parley. Wilton and Luscombe spoke for their employees, assuring Hurst that none of the men could identify the night raiders. Underfield stood to one side, licking his lips, never looking directly at the big man on the handsome black stallion. Modine had nothing to say, until Wilton had finished his description of the stampede. Then:

‘You ought to remind the deputy of our drive west to Lupton City.’

‘Oh,’ Wilton shrugged nonchalantly, ‘the whole county knows we’ll be on our way—day after tomorrow.’

‘I’d forgotten,’ Hurst confessed.

‘I’ll postpone the drive if you say the word,’ Wilton assured him. ‘If you’re hard-pressed to find volunteers for a posse—well—this outfit won’t let you down. I had a lot of respect for the sheriff. You’d be welcome to use every man on the L-Bar-W payroll.’

‘Includin’ me and Kane,’ declared Luscombe.

‘You said there were only four of those raiders?’ Hurst asked Underfield.

‘Four is all we seen,’ mumbled Underfield.

‘Well, four against four is even,’ said Hurst. ‘We won’t need any more men.’

‘If you change your mind, come back and we’ll talk it over,’ drawled Wilton. ‘We won’t be moving out until the mid-afternoon, day after tomorrow.’ He studied Jim with keen interest. ‘Howdy there. I understand you had a run-in with my boys yesterday. Hope you won’t hold that little dispute against the whole outfit.’

‘We didn’t mean no harm,’ Underfield grudgingly assured Jim. ‘Ike got mad when your cayuse fazed him. He shouldn’t of lost his temper.’

‘What’s done is done,’ was all Jim had to say about it.

‘You find any sign of them crazy stampeders?’ Luscombe asked Hurst.

‘They aren’t just stampeders, Luscombe,’ scowled Hurst. ‘They’re thieves and killers.’ He turned in his saddle, stared southward. ‘No. I haven’t yet found track of ’em, but I’ll sure keep lookin’.’

‘We had to chase our herd as far south as the river,’ Wilton pointed out. ‘Can’t you guess what those owl hoots have done? They’re travelling the shallows, and they’ll go on travelling that way—clear into New Mexico.’

‘You’re likely right,’ nodded Hurst. ‘But I aim to make sure.’ He looked at Underfield again. ‘You did notice they were totin’ grain sacks?’

‘Yeah,’ grunted Underfield. ‘A couple grain sacks.’

‘Well, that figures,’ said Hurst. ‘They’d need at least a couple big sacks to carry all the paper money from that safe. The safe was probably jam-packed.’ He nodded to Jim and Kell. ‘We’d better be on our way. It’s a long ride to the river.’

‘Luck to you, gents,’ called Wilton, as they wheeled, their mounts. ‘Remember—if you need any help—you can count on the L-Bar-W.’

Until sundown, the four hunters combed the territory south of Marris County’s boundaries, but found no horse tracks. That night Leo Hurst slept deep while the others took turns to sit guard.

In the morning, a much refreshed Deputy Hurst led them on another wide sweep of the plains, canyons and hills to the south. Still no tracks. No riders or wagons had travelled these regions in quite a time. Three impatient

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