Gunsmoke in Vegas by J. William Allen

Author:J. William Allen [J. William Allen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780709099116
Publisher: Robert Hale
Published: 2012-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

The country was increasingly inhospitable. On either side, semi-desert terrain; nothing but windswept sand blurring into the distance. As Seb saw it there was no option at present but to stick to the trail. Then for him to pull off and circle round when he got in sight of Plainsburg. Meantimes, he had to keep his eyes peeled and if he saw what looked like the law heading towards him as he’d been warned, he’d have to do some serious reconsidering of his plans.

*

He’d not progressed more than a few more miles when he spotted a couple of riders. They were still distant but heading his way. He’d been on the Old Spanish Trail long enough to be familiar with its typical traffic: settlers in their covered wagons; Eastern tradesman hauling their goods to California; herds of California-bred horses bound for Missouri. Single riders like himself, or small groups of riders like the one ahead of him were a rarity. Given the warning of the old Bible toter, he was more than wary.

There was a chance the advancing riders still hadn’t seen him, so he pulled off the trail and worked his way through a stand of cacti, sufficient to obscure him. Some distance away, and confident he couldn’t be seen from the trail, he watched.

Eventually the riders passed. He stayed that way for some time, wondering whether it would safe to return to the trail, whether they would be back.

Deciding to check and satisfied to bide his time, he looked behind him. There was a small knoll from where he could get a better view of the surrounding country.

He led his horse to the top.

Mistake. A tell-tale cloud of dust indicated another group of riders hoving into view, this time on his back trail. They were far in the distance – but he and his horse were now limned against the open sky! Hell, the riders would have to be as blind as bats not to have seen him.

He drew back out of sight, tethered his animal and wormed his way once again to the top.

The group from the Lafferty direction had broken from the road and were heading across the open land – towards him. And he could now count their number. Three. He recalled that Milan had a couple of close lackeys: Cisco and Ant. That would explain three.

It was now clear that, with all the hold-ups along the way, his pursuers had finally wiped out the gap between them.

He turned and looked at the terrain beyond the trail: a smooth, unbroken layer of windswept sand, a seemingly unending stretch of aridness, just a hole in the map.

One more look at the fast approaching trio and he knew he had no option. He leapt into the saddle and headed into the sands.

He was no fool. He knew the desert, open and beckoning, only seemed to offer escape. Although unfamiliar with such terrain, he knew the siren’s call could be false. The desert was not necessarily freedom; it could be its own prison.

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