Promise of Revenge by Lauran Paine

Author:Lauran Paine
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing
Published: 2013-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

IV

Under a hot pink brightness Tom Barker stirred in his blankets, raised up, and propped his head on one hand, gazing along the pearl-gray floor of desert, misty and silent, until the land lifted and met the sharp edge of the rising sun. It was after 5:00, daylight was coming, and it would be another scorching summer day. While he watched, the first dazzling rays shot above the distant hills, raced across the desert, and struck with quick brightness the warped roofs of the little town down on the plain that he had left the night before to go up into the hills and camp. Nearby were the graceful willows in a narrow arroyo, dim and gray, still holding the dregs of the night; they lined an unseen stream that tinkled pleasantly in the hush. He yawned, spat, pushed back the blanket, and sat up. Down along the creek fetlock-deep in yellow forage grass his horse stamped and blew its nose.

Tom scrubbed at the creek, hustled twigs for a breakfast fire, and worked silently with the fat, rich aroma of frying side meat rising into the air. He was rocking the iron fry pan gently when a laughing voice drawled behind him, back in the tangled willows.

“If I was a sheriff, you’d never live to eat that, Tom.”

Barker made no move. He rocked the pan gently over its arrow points of blue fire, his averted face turning handsome under the influence of a dry small smile. “If you were a sheriff, I’d have roped and tied you when you scuffed that rock with your spur ten minutes ago.”

The newcomer straightened up and came out of the willows. He was as tall as Barker but not nearly as broad. An air of litheness preceded him; he walked like an Indian, balancing forward on the balls of his feet. Beneath his hat a tawny lock of sun-rusted dark hair hung upon his forehead. His face was youthful, burned brown, and prematurely lined. He squatted next to Barker, watching the faint gray smoke rise up, then curve away and hang in the arroyo to mingle with the shadowy vestiges of night.

“I’m hungrier’n a bitch wolf,” the newcomer said, watching the bacon curl. “You know . . . that’s quite a ride in one day and one night, Tom.”

“I’ll feed you and I’ll pay you,” Tom replied without looking away from the fry pan, “but damned if I’ll sympathize with you, Tex.”

A strong, boyish ripple of laughter came from Tex. His eyes crinkled and danced. “That’s good enough,” he said. “Just feed me first . . . then tell me what this is all about.”

Tom divided the side meat into two rations and settled back. “Eat,” he said, and for a moment added nothing to it. “I won’t tell you why I’m doing this Tex. All I’ll tell you is what you’re to do.”

“Suits me, Tom. Shoot.”

“See that little town down there?”

“Yup. Saw it before sunup.”

“That’s Beatty.”

“All right.”

“I’m going to make it or break it.

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