Blown to Hell by P.A. Bechko

Author:P.A. Bechko
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Fiction Works
Published: 2012-09-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Throughout the evening, Seth’s cowhands wandered into camp in twos and threes until there must have been between fifteen and twenty men in camp with two or three coming and going almost the whole time. Coal-oil lamps burned brightly outside the entrance of Ida’s Red Garter as well as within the front section, where there was some dancing going on to the music from a music box one of the girls was toting along. But the back section of the oversized tent was kept in darkness, the noise of raucous good humor from the front pretty much covering the carryings-on at the back.

Chance was busy dealing a game of five-card stud to some eager-looking cowboys in a circle of light just off the entrance of Ida’s establishment.

There was no booze to be had in camp except for the couple of bottles Ida had brought along for emergencies on the trail. This, she had decided, qualified as an emergency and Ida was dutifully handing out one drink to a man, on the house, from her precious stores. Every once in a while she appeared outside the tent to get a breath of air and look for new faces at Chance’s makeshift gambling table.

The men were properly grateful to Ida, and Emma watched with rapt attention from the deck of the windwagon while their camp was turned into a small boom town right before her eyes. There was a hum of excitement on the air as the cowboys jovially spent all their pocket money for the trail. They wouldn’t find a better place to spend it between Ida’s and trail’s end.

Jack and her grandfather, Emma knew, were standing watch outside the pools of light cast by their camp. They had gone up to the rim from where Chance had first spotted the herd approaching. Emma didn’t expect trouble. After all, what were the men doing in camp gambling and partying if there was any real trouble in the offing? Still, Chance had said something to her about being headed into Apache country and they would be there in a few days. A few days? She doubted the line of demarcation was so clear and Chance was always so vague. According to his observations, they were always headed into or getting out of somebody’s territory.

Shrugging into a jacket against the chill of the night air, Emma caught sight of Pony as he emerged from Ida’s tent wreathed in smiles then turned his footsteps toward the rim.

Pony was a responsible boy. He knew he was to take over the watch and in spite of the obviously good time he had been having he hurried off to relieve Elias. Emma, watching from the windwagon’s deck, climbed down to meet her grandfather on his way back. With long, swiftly graceful strides, she crossed the camp and stopped several yards behind Ida’s tent, waiting for her grandfather to appear through the gloomy darkness. Standing there only a few seconds, she heard footfalls nearby. It couldn’t possibly be her grandfather, there wouldn’t have been time for him to reach her.

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