Gaptown Law (Prologue Western) by Louis Trimble

Author:Louis Trimble [Trimble, Louis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781440548932
Publisher: Adams Media
Published: 2012-06-02T12:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

THE FIRST PART OF THE FOLLOWING WEEK, A RIDER FROM the Canadian mines brought the news that the freight outfit had started south. The information crystallized a problem of Matt’s into an answer. The truth in Gail’s words that the law waited until injury was gone galled him, and he decided to ride with Jeremy Cotter. His hope was to prevent the robbery that he was almost sure would come.

Telling Toby to take over, he rode for the Canadian border. By going within a mile of Shackville and then over a saddle in the mountains, he could come onto the freight highway just south of Canada without being seen by Bald Leggett. He had made the trip often enough with his father to be able to judge the time Jeremy Cotter should arrive at the border.

He was within four hours of guessing the time right and, just before dusk, he picked up the freight train. Jeremy Cotter showed no surprise at seeing him.

“Figuring on something happening, Matt?”

Matt glanced back along the line of heavily laden wagons. “This’ll be your last trip out for the winter,” he said. “And it looks like you’re loaded.”

“Yes,” Jeremy Cotter admitted. He squinted ahead into the gathering winter darkness. “It smells like snow. I’ll be lucky if I make it out of Gaptown this year.”

“You have to,” Matt said dryly. “I hear Adam Bede is having a printing press shipped in. We can spend the winter reading.”

Jeremy Cotter laughed at the thought of Gaptown reading. As driver of the lead wagon, he continued to peer forward, seeking the way. “Broken axle slowed us back there,” he grumbled. “Now it’s coming dark, and we ought to be by Shackville.”

They started a low rise that, once topped, would give them a final easy grade into Shackville. Here the forest was heavy, and branches from the dark firs brushed against the wagons and tried to sweep the men’s hats from their heads. It was a bad spot, for, though the mules seldom spooked, some of the horses ridden by the guards would turn skittish. This would occasionally cause the mules to stop and wait until such foolishness ceased.

Jeremy’s growl over the broken axle was cut off abruptly. A gun burst raked the night and a bullet spatted into the side of the lead wagon. A sharp volley of shots followed, pinging viciously off the ore piled on the wagons. Jeremy jerked the reins, cursing angrily. Matt swung his horse aside and pulled his forty-four free.

He had no time for anything else. The attack was not the kind that man could see and ward off. Nor was it where Matt had expected. He had not thought they would be foolish enough to make their try this close to Shackville. He heard the boiling of horses and the shrill swearing of men. A last volley of shots burst from the thick forest, and Matt felt the hot stabbing fire of lead catch him and lift him out of the saddle as if he had been so much dust.

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