Sacketts.16.Galloway.1970 by Louis L'Amour

Author:Louis L'Amour [Louis L'Amour]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The sun wasn't up when I mounted the grulla and taken to the hills. The old

Dance & Park six-shooter was shoved down in its scabbard, but I carried my

Winchester in my hands. It was not yet light, so I rode right back into the

trees, riding up through the timber until I struck an old bear walk.

This was no regular trail, but even so I didn't hold to it long, suddenly

starting up the hill on an angle, and so it was that I glimpsed something down

below in the brush. It was that wolf, and he was keeping ahead of me. Of a

sudden he brought up short. He lifted one foot, then ducked into the brush like

a shot.

My feet kicked free of the stirrups and I went off that horse like I'd been

shot, and I almost was. As my feet hit dirt I heard the boom of a shot and I

threw myself forward in the brush, then scrambled up and ran in a short dash to

where an outcropping thrust up from the mountain. I was just in time to see a

man legging it for his horse and I could see the horse, so I threw up my rifle

and shot at the tree it was tied to. I made a wild guess as to where the reins

would be tied, and either cut one or the horse broke it with his lunge when

fragments of bark stung its face. Anyway the horse broke loose and when the man

lunged into view again I put a bullet where he should have been but he dove into

the brush.

Taking a running jump I hit the saddle as the mustang took off and we went down

that slope just a hellin'. Another shot cut close to me and I let drive with

two, firing my rifle off my hip into the brush and when that mustang hit the

brush it went right on through. Out in the open beyond a man was legging it down

the slope. He stopped, whirled around and came up with a rifle, and I let go at

him again and he spun around and dropped.

When I came up on him he was sitting there, holding his side, an ugly look in

his eyes. "You played hell," he said. "They'll kill you for this."

"That's what you tried to do to me," I replied "Are you Vern Huddy?"

"Me? No, I ain't. Lucky for you, I ain't. He ain't here yet. If I'd been Vern

Huddy you'd be dead. I'm Jobe Dunn, if you want to know, cousin to Curly."

His rifle dropped when my bullet hit him, but he was still wearing a

six-shooter. Either he'd forgotten it or he was hoping I had. "Take it out," I

said, "with two fingers. Throw it just as far out as you can. And don't try

anything funny unless you want to feed the buzzards right from where you're at."

He drew that pistol and dropped it, and I swung down and gathered up his pistol

and his rifle.

"Now you get on your feet and start for home, and don't stop this side of

there.

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