Hard Ride to Hell by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pinnacle Books
Published: 2013-03-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Matt landed on the back of the left-hand wheeler. The horse jerked under him, but he grabbed its mane and hung on. When he was settled on the horse’s back and confident that he wouldn’t fall off, he took hold of its harness and leaned over to grab the right-hand wheeler’s harness with that hand. He hauled back, slowing them, and that gradually slowed the other horses in the team as well. After a couple of minutes, the coach lurched to a halt.

Matt slid off the horse and ran back to the door. He twisted the catch and yanked it open, worried about what he might see inside.

Three pale, terrified faces stared out at him from huddled shapes on the floor. The younger Baxter had a pocket pistol clutched in his hand. Obviously thinking that Matt was one of the outlaws, he thrust it out and started to pull the trigger. Matt grabbed his wrist and shoved his arm up just as the pistol went off with a loud popping sound. The bullet flew harmlessly into the air, well over Matt’s head.

Matt wrenched the gun out of the young man’s hand and said, “Hold on, damn it! I’m not part of that bunch. I just saved you from them!”

“Where . . . where are the rest of them?” the elder Baxter asked. All his bluster was gone now, scared right out of him.

Matt looked around, thinking that he might see the other outlaws galloping toward him, ready to wipe him out and take the Baxters prisoner again, but he didn’t see anybody.

He heard shots coming from the direction of the creek, though.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. From the sound of the gunfire, somebody had come along and pitched in to give him a hand.

That help might have come too late for Seamus Hanrahan, though.

“Let me turn this coach around,” he said. “You folks will be all right now.”

“Turn the coach around!” Claude Baxter repeated in disbelief. “Absolutely not! I insist you take us on to Pine Knob as scheduled, young man.”

It sure hadn’t taken the mining magnate long to get his arrogant attitude back once he realized he was safe, Matt thought. Luckily, he didn’t give a damn about Baxter’s attitude.

“Sorry,” he said curtly. “We’re going back.”

He slammed the door without giving them a chance to argue with him.

Ignoring the angry shouts from inside the coach, Matt gathered up the reins, climbed onto the driver’s box, and turned the stagecoach around. He sent it rolling back toward the creek, and by the time they got there, all the shooting had stopped.

Matt saw a number of bodies sprawled in the trees and along the creek banks. A dozen men on horseback sat their saddles nearby, holding rifles. Matt recognized some of them from Buffalo Crossing.

He recognized Sheriff Thomas Blocker as well, who was kneeling next to a man propped up against the trunk of a cottonwood. Matt’s spirits leaped as he looked at the soaked, bloody, but very much alive Seamus Hanrahan.

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