Gold Mine Massacre by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pinnacle Books
Published: 2021-02-10T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25

By the time the five cowboys got back to the bunkhouse at the Bluejay spread, Polo had passed out from losing so much blood.

“Let’s get him inside on his bunk,” ordered Linc as the other men swung down from their saddles, except for Jack Denton, who sat his horse close beside Polo’s and gripped the vaquero’s arm to keep him from falling.

Hutch, Chip Runnels, and Linc reached up to take hold of Polo and lift his unconscious form from the saddle. Because Hutch was the biggest of the bunch, he got his arms under the wiry Polo’s shoulders and knees and carried him into the bunkhouse.

A rifle slug had screamed out of the night as they were fleeing from the mining camp and blasted through Polo’s torso. In the darkness, the others hadn’t been able to see how badly he was hurt. He had insisted that the wound wasn’t bad and he could still ride, and so they’d lit a shuck out of there. They didn’t slow down except when they had to as they weaved back and forth along the trail down the slope.

By the time they were back out in the valley, headed for home, Polo had been swaying wildly in the saddle. Denton had seen that and grabbed hold to steady him as he called out in alarm to the others.

They paused long enough to discover that the vaquero was hit pretty bad and was only half-conscious. They headed on to the ranch as quickly as they could.

As they stepped back from the bunk and looked down at their friend’s pain-twisted features, frozen that way when he’d passed out, bitter curses exploded from Runnels.

“I’ll kill ’em,” he swore. “I’ll kill ’em all!”

The front of Polo’s shirt from the middle of his chest down below his belt was dark and sodden with blood. They could see the hole where the bullet had gone in, low on the left side, and blasted through his guts at an angle. The exit wound was around on the right side of his back, a couple of inches higher.

No man could survive a wound like that. It was a miracle that Polo had made it back to the ranch alive.

“I’d better go get the boss.” Denton turned toward the door.

Linc gripped his arm. “There’s nothin’ Mr. Campbell can do for him,” the older cowboy said. “Polo’s done for. The rest of us gettin’ in trouble ain’t gonna help him.”

Denton stared at him for a second then demanded, “You mean we’re just gonna let him die?”

“Ain’t any lettin’ about it. He’s gonna die.”

“Linc’s right,” said Hutch. “There’s no sense in the rest of us landin’ in more trouble if it won’t help Polo . . . and it won’t.”

Denton looked at Runnels. “Are you goin’ along with this, Chip?”

Runnels shrugged and said, “Linc and Hutch are makin’ sense, Jack, whether we like it or not.”

Denton stared around at the others, then asked, “What do you think we should do?”

“Polo’s not hurtin’ anymore since he passed out,” said Linc.

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