Bowdrie (Ss) (1983) by L'amour Louis

Author:L'amour, Louis [L'amour, Louis]
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2010-12-12T06:26:13.296000+00:00

A TRAIL TO THE WEST

Chick Bowdrie stared into the muzzle of the six-gun. His dark ^ features showed no expression, but behind the black eyes there was an urge to draw and take his chance.

He had lived by the gun long enough to know that a wise man does not take such chances with the kind of man who was holding the six-shooter.

He was a tall man with rounded shoulders and a narrow gray-skinned face, an unhealthy face on a man who had been out of the sunlight for some time.

"What's the matter, partner?" Bowdrie inquired.

"What makes you so jumpy?"

"Who are you? Where you headin'?"

"Me?" Chick inquired innocently.

"I'm just a driftin' cowhand, ridin' the grub-line. I'm called Sam Dufresne."

"What are you ridin' up in the trees for? The trail's down yonder."

"Now an' again a man finds that trails aren't healthy. You know what I mean or you wouldn't be so touchy. I had an idea I wouldn't meet any travelers up here, an' it would give me a chance to have a look at who is ridin' the trail. Maybe see them before they saw me."

"Meanin' that you're on the dodge?" The man holding the gun was beginning to relax. He was puzzled but cautious.

"Now, that's a leadin' question," Bowdrie said, "but being' behind that gun gives you the right to ask it. If you weren't holdin' that gun, you might hesitate to ask any such question."

The round-shouldered man's eyes glinted with sudden anger.

"So?" The muzzle tilted just a bit, and Bowdrie was ready. If he died, he wasn't going to die alone. His own gun was only inches from his hand.

"Hold it, Hess!" The branches of a juniper pushed forward and a man came out of the trees to stand facing Bowdrie. Here was a danger, perhaps more deadly than the gun at his head. He also knew he had found who he was looking for.

The newcomer was big; a leonine head topped a thick, muscular neck and massive shoulders. He had small feet and hands for his bulk, and a square-cut face tight-skinned and tanned. His eyes were pale, almost white. This was John Queen.

"Howdy," Bowdrie said.

"I'm glad you spoke up. I hate to get killed or kill a man this early of a mo ming John Queen studied him with cool, appraising eyes.

"I would say if any kinin' was done, he'd be apt to do it."

"Maybe," Bowdrie admitted, "but things ain't always the way they seem.

He might kill me, but I'd surely kill him."

"You'd have to be a mighty fast hand with that gun," Queen said, "an' there's not many who could do that--if anybody could do it."

Queen glanced at the horse and saddle, and looked again at Bowdrie's twin guns.

"You say your name is Sam Dufresne. I can count the men who could draw that fast on the fingers of one hand, and none of them would be named like you."

"Could be there's somebody new in the picture," Bowdrie suggested.

"You ain't Billy the Kid because you're too big and you don't have those two buck teeth.

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