Hart the Regulator 3 by John B. Harvey

Author:John B. Harvey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: old west, western fiction, john harvey, silver mining, regulators, piccadilly publishing, western pulp fiction, cowboys and outlaws, wes hart
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Chapter Eight

The sun was still low in the sky, its brightness hooded by cloud. The wind blew freely from the east, turning the branches of the pines which edged the hill. Below, the water moved a slow, muted blue. Hart reined in the mare and looked down towards the Beaumont mine.

Around the main entrance of the shaft heavy timbers pushed upwards, black and clumsy. A number of men moved about, not in any apparent pattern. There were two long wagons waiting, unloaded past the entrance. Half a dozen mules were tied to a long line; as many horses stood in a rough corral. There was one single-story building with smoke rising from a hole cut in its roof and three smaller cabins close to its left.

Hart touched the mare’s sides with his spurs and set her into a walk. The top surface of the ground was firm and ridged and where hoofmarks broke it through they exposed a darker, softer soil underneath.

He was eighty yards away from the mine when a shout made him turn, reining in.

‘Where you headin’, mister?’

The man was on a curved ledge of rock to Hart’s right, the sun coming up over his shoulder so that his head and shoulders appeared in silhouette. He might be good and keeping quiet and out of sight but he was presenting too easy a target of himself.

Hart saw the rifle raised to the man’s shoulder, took his time before answering. ‘Just goin’ into the mine. Lookin’ around.’

‘We don’t take to no visitors.’

Hart still couldn’t make out the features of the man’s face, only the outline.

‘You tell Jake Henry I’m here. Wes Hart. He’ll clear me.’

The man shook his head quickly. ‘I can’t do that. You ain’t got no proper business, you ride back.’

‘Ride in an’ ask him.’ An edge of temper was beginning to show underneath the flat tone of Hart’s voice.

‘I can’t leave my post.’

‘Then we’re stuck here all morning, cause I ain’t turnin’ round. Not now.’

The rifle was pulled into the shoulder. Hart touched the tip of his tongue to his dry lips. He freed his boots from the stirrups, ready to throw himself from the saddle.

The sound of voices rose from the mine. Hart glanced round to see three men leading mounts from the corral.

‘Guess we’re gettin’ company,’ he said.

The man on the rock didn’t reply; waited. Hart picked out Jake Henry right off, riding in the middle of the three and slightly ahead. A Winchester lay across the front of his saddle, held fast.

Henry acknowledged Hart with a nod and called to the guard. ‘What’s up?’

The man pointed his rifle. ‘He come by sayin’ he was ridin’ down to the mine. Didn’t know him so I told him he wasn’t.’

Jake Henry moved his horse nearer to Hart. His bearded face scowled. ‘Seems to me your business is back down in town. That was what you was hired for. Up here I handle things an’ I don’t need no regulator to help me do it.’

The face reddened as the harsh voice grew louder.

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