Helltown Massacre by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2011-03-27T17:00:00+00:00

The ’Paloose responded gallantly, as Smoke had known it would. Some folks didn’t like the big, spotted horses bred by the Nez Percé, claiming they were too high-strung and lacking in stamina. Smoke had ridden many Appaloosas over the years and knew that to be false. There were good and bad horses among every breed, but in general he had found the ’Palooses to be valiant, dependable animals.

They were sure-footed, too, which was a good thing. Smoke was in a hurry and a misstep could be disastrous. He circled to the south, through a series of narrow canyons along the edge of Sugarloaf range that not many people knew about. Preacher had known an old Indian war trail ran through there, and he had told Smoke. Since then, Smoke had explored the route on numerous occasions.

The trail ended in a steep, rocky slope. The ’Paloose swarmed up it like a mountain goat. Smoke held his breath a few times when it seemed like the horse might topple over backward, but the ’Paloose struggled on and finally reached the top. Smoke reined in and listened for the sound of hoofbeats that would tell him Sally’s kidnappers were close by.

Not hearing anything, he rode quickly across the shoulder of ground that tailed off into the rocky slope behind him. On the far side of the open space was another slope covered with a thick growth of pines. Smoke rode into the trees. Sally’s captors would have to come along there to reach Hampton Peak, which bulked darkly in the night several miles to the west. Concealed in the pines as he was, they wouldn’t be able to see him until it was too late.

Smoke couldn’t be a hundred percent certain his quarry hadn’t passed by already, but he knew he ought to be in front of them. Never having been one to brood about such things, he pulled his Winchester from the saddle boot, levered a round into the chamber, and waited.

Minutes stretched out nerve-wrackingly, and he was mighty glad when he finally heard the steady sound of hoofbeats approaching. He edged the ’Paloose forward a little.

The riders came into view about fifty yards away, moving from left to right in front and slightly below him. They were far enough away that shooting would be tricky in the bad light, but he brought the Winchester to his shoulder and sighted over the barrel.

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