Guns of Vengeance by Lewis B. Patten

Author:Lewis B. Patten [Patten, Lewis B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781477842119
Amazon: 147784211X
Publisher: AmazonEncore
Published: 2013-10-28T11:00:00+00:00

The livery stable was east along Main Street, about half a block beyond Massey's store. Vacant lots grown high with weeds separated the two, but in spite of the distance Massey complained a lot in winter about the smell of the wet and uncleaned corral behind the stable - at least whenever the wind was from the east. The stable was a huge, graying building of unpainted, rough-sawed boards that had shrunk after it was built, leaving cracks about a quarter inch wide. In winter, when a blizzard blew, being inside it was little better than being outside, and the coats of the stable horses were as heavy as though they wintered in the open.

The huge sliding door was open, so Walt drove the buckboard inside. There was a lantern hanging from a beam between the door and the tack room. Under the lantern lounged a group of men.

Half a dozen mothmillers flitted around the lantern, bumping it occasionally with an audible sound. Nels Jordan, the tall, thin stableman, straightened up from his hunkered position, came around, and took the reins from Walt.

Walt said: "Rose is staying with Irish for a few days. Keep the rig here until she wants it."

"Sure." Nels mounted to the seat, throwing a furtive glance at the group under the lantern. Walt untied his saddle horse from behind the rig, and Nels drove it back into the stable out of the way. Walt could hear the clink of tugs and singletrees as Nels unhitched.

Walt stood at the head of his horse, knowing he ought to mount and ride out, but held still by some obscure defiance. Two of the men under the lantern had participated in the beating he'd received earlier in Bryce's office. One was Hamp Richards, who was studying the ground at his feet with elaborate care. The other was burly, scowling Jess Armstrong.

Neither of the two was looking at Walt. But the others were. Walt could feel their hostility although their eyes were blank and coolly appraising, neither friendly nor pointedly unfriendly.

He had a rash impulse to take up this morning's quarrel again with Hamp Richards and Armstrong, and resisted it with difficulty. No use turning any more people against him. There were enough in that category already.

Yet it angered him to be so calculatingly appraised, for he thought he knew what was in their minds. Hamp and Jess Armstrong had been talking some kind of violence, some kind of retaliation against Walt and Ramrod. The others were not convinced, so they studied Walt, trying to decide in their own minds how effectively Walt would fight.

It was common knowledge that Ramrod's crew was on the mountain. It was also common knowledge that Jake was crippled and that Mac was old without the stomach for violence. They knew they had only Walt to contend with-and possibly Irish McKeogh.

Jess Armstrong must have felt the intensity of Walt's glance upon him, for he looked up and met Walt's eyes. In his face was a compulsion to do or say something.

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