Forty-Four Caliber Justice by Donald L. Robertson

Author:Donald L. Robertson [Robertson, Donald L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CM Publishing
Published: 2016-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Clay was riding Milo’s horse, and Milo was leading Harly’s with Harly across the saddle. Milo had calmed down since he figured out he wasn’t going to get shot. But every word out of his mouth was still a high-pitched whine.

“Mr. Barlow, sir, you ruined my beautiful rifle. That was one of the truest shooting rifles I’ve ever owned.”

“Shut up, Milo.”

The men moved to the east to pick up Clay’s horses. Clay had reloaded the spent shell from the Roper. “Keep walking, Milo. Go to the acacia near the big oak.”

Milo turned off the road and walked toward the horses waiting along Maverick Creek. “Why did you kill my parents, Milo?”

“I only shot your pa, Mr. Barlow. I only did that because Gideon would’ve killed me if I didn’t. I sure didn’t want to. I ain’t had nothin’ to do with your ma.”

“Milo, do you know what a man’s liable to do when you kill his parents?”

Clay could see Milo start shaking again. How could this be the deadly sharpshooter Milo Reese? This guy was afraid of his own shadow.

“Who did?”

“Mr. Barlow, sir, if I was to tell you, Gideon would kill me fer sure.”

“Hold up a minute.”

Milo stopped, halting Harly’s horse, and turned to look up at Clay. “Gideon won’t get the chance, Milo, if you don’t start talking.”

The frightened man stared into the deadly maw of the 12 gauge shotgun. “I, I wasn’t there until later. I waited on the ridge. Then rode down. I rode down way after Gideon hurt your ma. I ain’t had nothing to do with that.”

“Then tell me every detail of what happened as far as you know. Keep moving. You can walk and talk.”

Milo moved out toward the acacia and detailed the killings. His story coincided pretty well with the one he had heard from Hayes.

By the time he finished talking, they had reached the creek. The horses were where Clay had left them. “Okay, Milo, go sit under the big oak, and don’t make a move.”

Milo moved over to the oak that Clay indicated and sat down. Fear still etched his every feature, but he had calmed down. He watched Clay with cautious eyes.

Clay walked over to his horses and gave them a quick check. He took off his moccasins, slipped them into his saddlebags, and pulled on his boots. “You boys thirsty? Milo, come over here. We’re going to take the horses to water before we head to San Felipe.”

Milo got up, walked over, and took his horse and Harly’s. Clay slid the Roper into the scabbard and made sure his Model 3 was loose in the holster. “Don’t get any ideas, Milo. If you do, they’ll be your last. You do what I say, and you’ll be resting in a nice safe jail, instead of draped over your saddle like Harly.”

Milo glanced at him and looked away. “No, sir, you’re the boss.”

They walked the horses down to the creek, where the animals drank deeply of the cool water. When the horses were finished, they led them back up the bank.

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