Montana Abbott 5 by Al Cody

Author:Al Cody
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cowboys, action hero, american frontier, western series, western ebook, pulp western fiction, gunfighters and outlaws, frontier pioneer west usa, piccadilly publishing westerns
Publisher: Piccadilly

Chapter Twelve

LEADERSHIP OF THE trio selected by Trader Kinley had devolved, almost automatically, on Red Desmond on the ride east. Not only was he the oldest of the group, but since those two encounters at camp in which men had died so suddenly and shockingly, he had enjoyed a fearsome reputation.

The ironic part was that he considered himself a peaceful man, and ordinarily behaved as such. Roused, he was like a loosed demon, but at all other times his impulses were toward caution. Those instincts had prevailed at first, though one of his companions had chafed at the restrictions he imposed.

Now, imperceptibly but surely, his steadying influence was being cast off. Indian Mutch had killed a man; hard on the heels of the slaying, and like the bronze braves he sought to emulate, he had taken a pair of scalps. The stain of blood still browned his hands; its smell was rank, the effect like that of strong liquor.

Jake Withers, too, had killed on this journey, not liking it but deeming the act necessary. Now it was done, and that made him a brother of the blood along with Indian. Each had set his feet on a trail of no return, and its knowledge was in their eyes.

There was one difference, and Desmond sensed it. Whereas Withers was reluctant, Indian was eager. Desmond voiced a sour aside as the older men rode a little behind.

“He’s sure enough called right. He shoulda been born in a tepee. Actual, he’s twice as savage an’ bloodthirsty as a real Indian. With them, when it’s necessary, fighting’s a business. But he’s a natural-born killer.”

Jogging faster to catch up with the renegade, Desmond emphasized that caution must remain more than ever their Watchword. Aside from dealing with Abbott, Trader had insisted that they exercise restraint, and Kinley could be terrible when he was aroused. Since they looked to him for their pay, let it be kept in mind.

Trader’s name had a sobering effect, and Indian agreed. They swung their horses off from the wheel trace, pushing them along a route parallel to it but a couple of miles to the north, driving the extra animals taken from the halfway house. It was Desmond’s intention to widen the distance as they approached The Corners, meanwhile taking advantage of the gradually rougher country and the sparse but increasing clumps of trees to scatter the surplus animals and hold to shelter, so that no one would spot them.

The plan was sound, but chance intervened in the shape of a coyote. Flushed from a small gulch, it bounced into a wild run as the horses spilled almost on top of it. That sudden flight startled them in turn, sending them into a wild run off to the south, straight for The Corners. Desmond swore, and they tried hard, but there was no overtaking or turning the herd in time. They thundered up to the buildings, the cayuses raising a cloud of dust as they bunched and stopped of their own accord at the sight of man-made, familiar surroundings.

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