Midnight Hawk by Jack Sheriff

Author:Jack Sheriff
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780719823862
Publisher: Robert Hale

SEVEN

The next morning it became clear that on at least one count, Peso Ballard had been wrong. Less than thirty minutes after he had collected his horse from the livery stable and commenced the ride north towards Silver Springs, the first distant bellows were heard that signified the imminent arrival of the Lazy B herd of Texas longhorns.

Cassidy was wiping the grease of breakfast from his mouth as he stepped out of the Sunrise Café ahead of Gar Lomax. A grin split his freckled face as he caught the shrill whistles, the faint cries of the point riders, and under it all like a rich bass accompaniment the unmistakable rumble of a big herd on the move.

‘Hell, Gar, you hear what I hear?’ he cried joyfully.

‘Makes sense,’ Lomax said laconically. ‘Man cain’t hold a restless herd too long. Ain’t no reason why he should when there’s safe pens in town and ready cash awaitin’.’

‘Yeah, but who fer?’ Cassidy said, rolling his eyes. ‘You reckon Peso’d object if we was to make a move before he gets back? Seems like this herd’ll be safely penned around high noon. By midnight we could have our pockets stuffed with more cash than you’ve seen in your whole life.’

As they continued across the street children in ragged pants and baggy shirts were running towards the edge of town to meet the herd, their excited cries drifting on the rapidly warming air. Metal flashed in the bright sunlight then clattered on the plankwalk as a swamper outside the saloon was distracted by the commotion, kicked over his bucket of soapy water and uttered a strangled expletive.

And in one of those sudden silences that occur in the midst of chaos – or herald a storm – the creak of a door could clearly be heard. Badge glittering on his barrel chest, Bear River Tom emerged from his office, planted his stetson firmly on his head, and like an old fighter girding his loins gave an instinctive hitch to the Colt Navy hanging low on his hip.

‘Got his attention already,’ Lomax said softly, and Cassidy clapped him on the shoulder.

‘He’ll have his work cut out with those Texan punchers,’ he enthused, kicking the still rolling bucket out of the way and crossing the slick wet plankwalk towards the saloon. Ignoring the angry tirade of abuse from the swamper he pushed through the swing doors and strode arrogantly into a dimness thick with the stale aroma of last night’s whiskey fumes.

Behind him, Gar Lomax shook his head wryly. The kid sure had everything weighed up. Only trouble was, the lure of a sizeable bankroll was blinding him to the dangers posed by the big lawman. Well, there was plenty of time. No move could be made before sundown. A big herd needed to be penned. Money had to change hands. Like Paiute Hawk and Peso Ballard, all they could do was watch, and wait.…

Out at the Running-J, young Steve Fraser was champing at the bit. His thin face was tense, his blue eyes watchful.

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