Gun Run by George G. Gilman

Author:George G. Gilman
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: General Fiction, Genre Fiction, Westerns, Action & Adventure, Literature & Fiction
Publisher: Lobo Publications
Published: 2014-01-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

WHILE Steele was collecting kindling from the brush guarding the southern entrance to the canyon, the last of the soldiers completed the violations of the women. A volley of gunshots signaled the final deaths, to set the seal on the victory of the Federales.

With the brush under his arm, Steele rode on a line that took him slightly west of south and, beside an outcrop of rock, he laid a fire and lit it. He boiled the two canteens of water in a skillet which had hung from the appropriated saddle, after cleaning it of dead insects by filtering it through his scarf. He ate the dried beef and beans cold. Then he refilled the canteens and, as the fire died and the coldness closed in again, the first light of a new dawn streaked the eastern skyline.

From a distance of two miles, he watched the Federales emerge from the canyon and strike south. The column of uniformed figures moved slowly, the cavalry and artillery riders matching the pace of the foot soldiers. Steele began to count the measured strides of the men on the ground. Aloud at first, but then to himself. Initially, the men, horses and the field guns were clearly defined in the first light of day. Gradually, the images blurred, and the background became as dark as the figures moving across it. The two merged and Steele was asleep.

A lizard scampered over Steele’s leg and he snapped open his eyes; then narrowed them against the harsh brilliance of a risen sun. Because he had slept naturally, he awoke with total recall. His body felt well-rested and his mind worked smoothly, despite nagging areas of pain. He looked at the distance between the horizon and the sun and judged the time to be about ten o’clock.

He stood up and flexed his muscles, running a check on his reflexes. Speed sharpened the needles of pain, but at least he had speed. He allowed the palomino some water from his cupped hand, then saddled the horse, mounted, and chewed some dried beef as he rode.

The sun was as hot as it had been yesterday, but now he was psychologically attuned to handle it better. And, more important, he had water. So he was able to cover the twenty miles of rolling hill country without approaching the point of exhaustion he had reached the day before. And, when he saw the pall of smoke ahead of him, he felt no worse than weary.

He cantered the palomino up to the crest of a rise and reined him to a halt to look down into a valley. The smoke was rising from a wagon parked beside a small house and, even as Steele watched, the final flames died and what was left of the black pall began to disintegrate in the thermal air currents. The house was on one side of a lemon grove and there was a storage barn on the other side. A trail led away from the house, cutting north-west across a field of weak-looking cotton plants.

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