Rimfire by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone [Johnstone, William W.; Johnsto]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2016-02-29T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Angus McPhee walked his horse a few feet out onto the bridge. The iron shoes rang like gunshots on the thick planks. “Those wagons aren’t coming across this bridge,” he called as he reined his mount to a halt. “You might as well turn ’em around and take ’em back where you came from.”

“How dare the man act like that?” exclaimed Edward Fairfield, who rode up to join them. “This isn’t his private kingdom.”

Ace said, “From what we’ve heard about McPhee, he probably feels like it is.”

“That’s Angus McPhee?” asked Wingate.

“Yeah,” said Chance. “We saw him in Fort Benton, acting all high and mighty with the sheriff. It didn’t get him anywhere there . . .”

“But McPhee pretty much owns Rimfire,” Ace concluded.

“Good Lord!” Fairfield exclaimed. “That’s Clade Mitchell with him!”

“Yeah,” Wingate said dryly. “I was just explainin’ that to Ace and Chance.”

“What’s Mitchell doing here? He’s an outlaw.”

“McPhee may not know that.”

“It doesn’t matter. This is a public bridge,” Fairfield insisted. “He can’t deny us the use of it.”

“Reckon he thinks he can,” said Wingate.

“Wonder what his connection is with Mitchell,” mused Ace.

McPhee’s already florid face flushed even darker with impatience and irritation as the men talked. He yelled, “Quit yammering amongst yourselves and get those wagons out of here! You’re not welcome in Rimfire!”

“This is absurd,” Fairfield said. “I’m going to talk to the man. Surely he can be reasoned with.”

Ace wouldn’t have bet on that, and he was about to say as much when Fairfield nudged his horse forward and rode out onto the bridge. Instantly, Clade Mitchell’s hand hovered over the butt of the gun on his hip.

“Hold it, Mr. Fairfield,” Ace said quickly. “Don’t crowd them.”

“Yeah,” put in Dave Wingate. “You don’t want to give that snake Mitchell any excuse to slap leather.”

Fairfield stopped where he was and sat there on his horse looking confused and angry. He turned to frown at the others and ask, “What are we going to do, then?”

“Lemme have a talk with ’em.” Carefully, Wingate drew his revolver and handed it to Rufe. “Hang on to that hogleg, boy.” He pulled his rifle from its sheath and passed it over to Ace. “I’ll leave this with you.”

Then Wingate urged his horse forward and held up his empty hands. “I ain’t armed!” he called to the men at the other end of the bridge. “Just want to palaver with you, McPhee.”

Clade Mitchell said something in a low voice to McPhee. Ace couldn’t make out the words, but he knew they probably weren’t anything good.

Wingate walked his horse to the center of the bridge and stopped. “How about meetin’ me halfway, McPhee?”

The cattleman didn’t respond immediately, but after glaring at Wingate for a moment, he started ahead. His men watched tensely.

Ace could tell that they were keyed up and ready to fight. It wouldn’t take much to start the ball.

McPhee jerked his horse to a stop facing Wingate and demanded, “Didn’t you damn sodbusters hear me? You’re not wanted here in Rimfire.

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