Bitterroot Bullets by Jon Sharpe

Author:Jon Sharpe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2010-11-16T00:00:00+00:00

22

Clymore didn’t hesitate. He flashed his hand to his revolver and jerked it.

Fargo didn’t hesitate, either. He drew and fired before Clymore could level his weapon, fired again as Clymore staggered and struggled to shoot, fired a third time and the tip of Clymore’s nose dissolved and Clymore keeled to the ground and was still.

The rest of the outlaws were rooted in place.

“Hell in a basket,” one blurted.

“Did you see that?”

“I told you he was fast,” Tuttle said. “I told you none of us can hold a candle to him.”

“Except me,” Lazarus Wolfe said.

“Except you,” Tuttle hastily agreed.

Fargo reloaded. No one tried to stop him. He finished and twirled the Colt into his holster. “Do I get to ride with you or not?”

“We’ll see,” Lazarus Wolfe said. “We’ll talk some, first. Tuttle, you take care of the body. Strip everything we can use before you drag it into the trees and leave it for the coyotes.”

“Why me?” Tuttle said.

“Because I said to. Bring me any money he has.” Wolfe turned and went in.

Fargo swung down and followed. “You trust Tuttle not to keep some of the money for himself?”

Lazarus Wolfe didn’t respond right away. He went over to the bunkbeds and took his slicker from the top one and shrugged into it and his hat from a bedpost and put it on. Sauntering to the table, he pulled out a chair with his foot and sat, his boots propped on the table. “Have a seat.”

Fargo chose a chair where he could see Wolfe and the doorway, both.

“I don’t trust anyone,” Lazarus Wolfe finally answered. “But I do trust in fear.”

“Fear?” Fargo repeated.

“The fear of dying. Every white nigger out there knows I’ll shoot him dead if he so much as looks at me crosswise. Tuttle keep some of the money?” Wolfe snorted. “I say ‘boo’ and he wets his pants. He won’t keep a cent.”

“You’re awful confident.”

Wolfe shrugged. “A man doesn’t believe in himself, what good is he?” He gazed out the doorway. “They’d turn on me in a minute if they thought they could get away with it. Fear keeps them in line.”

“There are safer ways to make a living,” Fargo said.

“But not any I’d like.” Wolfe laughed. “I get to kill white people anytime I want.”

“Indians too.”

“No,” Wolfe said. “I don’t ever kill Indians unless they make me.” He paused. “Whites, now. That’s another story. I hate them so much, I’d kill every one there is if I could.”

“You ride with whites.”

“I have to ride with somebody. I can’t do it all myself. It’s poetic, me riding with men who like to kill their own kind as much as I do.”

“Poetic?”

Wolfe’s good humor evaporated. “I can’t know words like that because I’m black?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Wolfe said. “But then, you’re white too, and all whites think all blacks are as dumb as tree stumps.”

“Not all whites,” Fargo said.

Lazarus Wolfe was quiet a bit. “You ever been a slave, mister?”

Fargo shook his head. It was a silly question.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.