Dead Man's Ranch by Ralph Compton & Matthew P. Mayo

Author:Ralph Compton & Matthew P. Mayo [Compton, Ralph]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101577066
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2012-03-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

“Picolo, are you as tired of riding as I am? Still, I had to follow that loudmouth boy rancher. ‘My father this’ and ‘my father that.’ What an idiot. Doesn’t he know I will gut him and his entire family like fishes? Hey, Picolo, are you listening?”

The horse nickered and Darturo smiled, nodded once. “I am impressed, my friend. All these years and I thought you were ignoring me. Besides, a decent bed in town is no match for the firm bosom of Mother Earth, eh? Oh, who am I kidding? Give me the bed any night. But still, it pays in the end to learn more about this young wealthy boy and his family. He might be a way to the money.” Mort watched the roan’s ears perk as he spoke. He reined up short at the same time and leaned low on the horse’s neck. “I heard it too,” he whispered, his eyes scanning left and right. “You see? We are close to something, eh?”

Ahead, just over a rise between his route and the road south, he heard a man’s voice, deep, bellowing about something. Ah yes, there was another voice, softer and younger, but also a man. Could there be more than one? And more importantly, thought Darturo, would they have anything of value about them? Of course, he knew that everyone carried something of value, but since Denver he felt he could afford to be choosier, and perhaps only take those things that would be of personal interest to him. Like a fine watch or a good knife. One could always use a good knife. Small items such as these might also be useful should he feel forced to buy his way in or out of a situation.

He slipped from his horse’s back and ground-tied the beast. Crouching low and taking care not to raise dust or sound from the graveled rise to his left, Mort made his way to just below the top of the low ridgeline. It would be full dark in less than an hour. If I want to see who these men are, thought Mort, I will have to peek now or wait for morning.

He removed his hat and set it beside him; then as slow as he dared, he raised his head. He knew that people rarely paused to consider anything that was motionless or nearly so. But something that moved invariably attracted the eye. The descending dusk should conceal him from them. And there they were, a big man wearing what looked as if at one time it had been a bowler hat. The other wore his own hat low. But there was something about the two that seemed familiar. He took in what other details he might, while the light allowed, then eased himself back down to a sitting position and listened.

Mort had planned on making a small fire, just enough flame for coffee, and making do with jerky and biscuits he’d bought in town. But that could wait.

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