Houston's Story by Abe Dancer

Author:Abe Dancer [Dancer, Abe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Robert Hale
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

A few hours later, Houston handed Carrick another canteen of water, then poured a mug of coffee fortified by a slug of his rum.

‘Now you can tell me who you are,’ Carrick said, once his hunger and thirst were sated. ‘You don’t seem to be carryin’ any sort o’ badge.’

‘My name’s George Houston. Some call me a regulator, others a law adjuster. I guess most would call me a bounty hunter.’ Houston then gave a brief explanation of his arrival, subsequent activity in Bullhead. ‘So, I’m here because Chester Jarrow’s widow thinks maybe you’re not so guilty. She offered me a real big reward to bring you back.’

‘Jarrow’s widow? Yeah, I seem to recall her. She didn’t seem the kind o’ lady who’d post bounty on anyone.’ Carrick shrugged. ‘Huh, I guess she’s like all the others though,’ he said dejectedly.

‘It’s possible. But the others ain’t paying big money to find out,’ Houston replied sharply. He took out his map and unfolded it. ‘According to this, we’re past half way. I figure we can make our rations and water last, but only by heading towards Lake Mead.’

‘That’ll be the Black Mountains. I know ’em,’ Carrick sighed. ‘Timberland an’ lots o’ good water. Seems a long ways off right now.’

‘There’s a trail leads from the foothills to Bullhead,’ Houston observed.

‘Yeah, the haulage road. I know it,’ Carrick muttered. ‘Travelled it every time I rode to an’ from town.’

‘But not this time,’ Houston suggested.

‘Goddamn right. Figured no man would have the grit to follow me in here. Territory folk reckon it’s possessed. But you’re a stranger . . . wouldn’t make any difference. ’Course you were goin’ to catch up with me.’

Houston pushed Dod Levitch’s Colt back in its holster, coiled the belt and stowed it in a saddle pouch. ‘I’ll shift some of the load off the mule,’ he told Carrick. ‘That’s for you. It’s extra weight for both, but now you’re improved we can walk some.’

‘We?’ Carrick repeated. ‘You forgettin’ I’m Billy Carrick the killer who beat ol’ Jarrow to death with his gun? That I helped three desperados rob the town of its money, then spent my share on Delano’s goddamn cocktails? What chance have I got back there?’

‘I’ve never brought anyone back dead,’ Houston retorted. ‘Not unless they wanted it that way. Then I’d oblige.’

‘You’d be obligin’ me. Hell, you must’ve seen ’em in the streets . . . like a pack o’ wild dogs treein’ a coon. Why not put a bullet in me right now and be done with it? Cut me like I did the bay, why don’t you?’

‘Because I’m being paid to take you back alive. Now rest your mouth while I get these animals ready to move us out.’

Houston rearranged the remaining loads until there was room for Carrick to sit astride the mule. He helped Carrick to mount; taking one end of the reins, he secured it to the grullo’s saddle-horn and swung into the saddle.

‘Knowing this territory the way you do,

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