Drifter 3 by Jake Henry

Author:Jake Henry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: the old west, colt 45, winchester rifles, best western ebook, western fiction ebook, jake henry, brett towns, arizona 1880s, cowboys and gunslingers, violence in the old west
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

There was something or someone out there in the darkness. Rawhide Allen couldn’t be sure which, but he felt its presence. Across his lap sat an 1855 Colt 10-gauge revolving shotgun.

He closed his eyes and waited, listening to the sounds of the night that blended together, the snap and crackle of his small fire joining the symphony.

Allen had become aware of the tail he’d picked up, earlier that afternoon. He was reasonably certain that it was human, although it could be animal. Maybe a mountain lion. He figured he’d find out soon.

Suddenly the sounds about him stopped and thick silence blanketed the surrounding area. All he could hear now was his own breathing, loud in his ears.

Still Allen waited.

Now!

His eyes snapped open and the shotgun came up. Out of the darkness, a figure appeared, dangerous, bent on killing the man near the fire.

The Colt roared and its charge slammed into the oncoming Chiricahua warrior. He was stopped in his tracks as the full force of the blast took him in the chest. Allen didn’t wait for him to fall. He thumbed back the hammer on the shotgun and turned to his left as another screaming wraith roared out of the blackness.

As the Apache entered the firelight, his painted face seemed to disintegrate as the gun in Allen’s hands bucked again. The third Apache came in from his right but there was no time to bring the shotgun to a firing position. He swept the weapon’s butt up to meet the charge and as the Indian leaped at Allen, the brass butt-plate stabbed forward into the Indian’s face, dropping him instantly.

Lurching to his feet, Allen turned to meet the assault of the next Chiricahua. This one was the biggest of them all and his hands held a battered Spencer. The weapon roared, belching orange flame. The slug hammered into Allen’s side spinning him half around, causing him to stagger.

The killer gritted his teeth against the pain and gathered himself. With a howl of glee, the Apache aimed to fire again but a slight hesitation cost him his life as Rawhide Allen took advantage. The Colt cracked and the Apache was thrust back by an invisible hand, crashing to the ground in a bloody tangle of arms and legs.

Fierce, burning pain radiated from Allen’s wounded side but he knew it would have to wait for the moment because there was still another Indian left. He would have to examine it later.

A sinewy arm snaked around Allen’s throat from behind, locked into position and started to squeeze. The opposite hand held a razor-sharp knife that he prepared to drive deep into the killer’s back.

Instead, Allen thrust forward from the hips and, with great strength, threw the Apache forward over his head.

The Chiricahua landed on the low burning campfire, flames and red-hot coals searing the skin and flesh of his back. It brought forth a cry of pain as the Apache rolled off the still burning fire, sending red embers up into the black evening sky.

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