Nomad Found: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Terry Henry Walton Chronicles Book 1) by Craig Martelle & Michael Anderle

Author:Craig Martelle & Michael Anderle [Martelle, Craig]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: LMBPN 1.0
Published: 2016-12-20T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Boss,” Harold called. Once Sawyer turned toward him, the man pointed ahead. A man and a woman were walking toward them on the road.

Sawyer Brown watched for a moment. “He’s armed. Spread out, you idiots,” he called. The ditches along the side of the road were filled with debris. Broken down fences blocked most of the way out of the ditch. Two men went left, picking their way through until they were beyond and in a relatively open area. They rode ahead quickly until they were abreast the two people Two men went to the right, but they couldn’t get through. They settled for riding as close to the ditch as possible.

Sawyer gave up and spurred his horse forward until he was right behind Harold and Smeghead, ensuring they shielded him in case any shooting started. The man and woman finally stopped walking. The man’s rifle was slung differently than what Sawyer was used to seeing. It hung under his arm, casually, yet ready to fire. He wore other gear that made him look like a soldier from days past. Sawyer called his men to a halt.

The woman was striking and once Sawyer saw her, everything else he’d been thinking about disappeared. He was close enough to see her purple eyes and brown hair, the silver streak on one side. She was tall and shapely. She carried nothing, and like the man, she stood easy, confident, unconcerned about the armed and dangerous men before her.

“Ho there, friend,” Sawyer called. The two didn’t move. The woman looked to her right where two horses with Sawyer’s riders stood still, watching from the side. “I said, ho, friend.” Sawyer repeated, as he slowly removed one pistol from its holster.

* * *

“What business do you have here?” Terry Henry asked, all the while assessing the enemy. He’d seen the big man loosen his pistol and then hold it in his lap. He also noted how the big man positioned himself behind the two in the lead. A bully. A coward. You die first, fucker, Terry thought.

“We are looking to trade, that’s all, friend. Who am I talking with?” the man offered, but he wasn’t convincing as a trader. “Shut up, Clyde!” the big man added as the dog on the road barked and growled, keeping his attention fixed solely on Charumati.

“That’s different. I thought you were coming to try and take what we have, but if you’re willing to trade, then I’m sure we can work something out. Put all your weapons and ammunition on the ground and we’ll see you get as much food as you can carry.”

The big man snorted as he gently stroked his pistol, a 9mm Glock, if Terry wasn’t mistaken.

“By the way, friend,” Terry said, making the word “friend” a pejorative, “a nice, young couple lived in that cabin that just burned down. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” Terry taunted. He turned his head just enough to hide that he was whispering out the corner of his mouth.

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