Bullets on Bunchgrass by Louis Trimble

Author:Louis Trimble [Trimble, Louis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4405-4971-7
Publisher: Prologue Books
Published: 1982-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

A TOUCH on his shoulder awakened Carr in midmorning. He sat up, blinking against a shaft of sunlight that struck across his eyes. Pat Tyler stood at the edge of the overhang. “They’re coming,” he said.

Carr was on his feet, reaching for his gun belt hung on a peg he had driven into the rock near by. “Griff?”

“Griff’s men,” Tyler said. “Dutch and Perly — the ones who were with Griff the night I was caught — and three more. They’re coming up the Trail.”

“Ah,” Carr murmured, “looking for beef, I suppose?”

He washed his face quickly, letting the chill of the water bring him fully awake. The coffee pot was on the fire and he poured a cup, hot and thick, and gulped at it while he drew on his boots and checked his gun.

Tyler said, “What now? Do we let them take the cattle back?”

“Not yet,” Carr said. He saw that old Peak was bringing his horse and he walked to meet them. “Let’s see how they’ll take a little more pushing around.” He glanced about. “Where’s Ned?”

“Up by the Bowl.”

When Peak reached him, Carr said, “We’ll get in the rocks around the mouth of the Bowl. Let them get into six-gun range.” He looked at Tyler. “And shoot to miss unless they get too rough, Pat. Remember, as far as the law is concerned, Griff has a right to those cattle.”

“I’ll remember,” Tyler said, sounding as though he would prefer to have it otherwise.

They rode the short distance quickly, pulling their horses into timber, and moving onto the rocks on foot. Carr saw Ned Watts at a point above him peering down the Trail and now and then ducking his face back. His voice floated down.

“Five minutes away, maybe,” he said.

Carr chose a spot where he had a good view of the top of the Trail, where it broke over the last rise, and he settled down to wait. It was a clear day with a slight breeze blowing into his face and he saw no danger in smoking a cigarette. He was grinding it out when he heard the distant clink of horseshoes on rock, the creak of saddle leather, and even the soft snort of a laboring horse.

“Ready.” His voice was low but loud enough for Tyler to his right and Peak to the left and below to hear him.

A five-man crew came into sight. One of them, Carr saw, was the dish-faced man who had been foolish enough to light a cigarette while on guard two nights before. He knew none of the others by sight, though he found it easy enough to identify the solid blond man as Perly. The squat, dark one beside Perly would be Dutch, Carr thought.

They came on steadily, riding openly now, with an arrogant disregard for what might be against them, reminding Carr in that of Neil Griff. He let them get within easy range and then lifted his voice.

“That’s far enough, friend.”

Dutch reined in and the others followed suit.

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