Savage 04 by E. Jefferson Clay

Author:E. Jefferson Clay [Clay, E. Jefferson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: action, hero, Colt, .45, Elmore, Leonard, gunslingers, Louis, L'Amour, Piccadilly, publishing, Pulp, fiction, writing, the, wild, west, western, frontier, series
Publisher: Piccadilly
Published: 2023-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

They were ready for the trail.

Savage had hitched the bay to the buckboard and packed the women’s gear away securely. He’d greased the axles and patched a piece of broken harness. After saddling his and the professor’s mounts, he lashed their war bags in position, kicked the fire out and stood by it sipping the last of his coffee. He was completely unaware of the fixed stares of the women standing by the buckboard tailgate.

Coder strolled across to him, coffee mug in hand, looking debonair in his tailored jacket and polished calf boots. He massaged his temple with a faintly perplexed expression.

“You all right?” Savage asked.

“I think so, Mr. Savage.”

“You mean you don’t know?”

Coder put on a smile as he halted before him. He looked pale, Savage thought. And the curious thing was that he, too, was suddenly aware of not feeling up to par.

Savage squinted at the sun which seemed to have grown both larger and redder than before. He was sweating some, even though it was some time since he had finished his chores.

It was strange.

“Could it have been the rabbit?” Coder asked, his voice slurred.

“It was prime meat.”

“Perhaps when we get on the trail we shall ...” Coder suddenly sat down on a deadfall. Savage watched with a strange fascination as the man’s coffee mug tilted slowly in his grasp to spill the last few brown drops on the ground.

He heard footsteps and turned to see Jane and Emma approaching. “Is everything all right?” Emma asked solicitously.

Savage looked at the blonde woman fixedly. She smiled at him and it seemed a false, fixed smile. It didn’t match her blue eyes that were hard and calculating.

“What’d you say?” he heard himself ask.

“You don’t look well, Clinton,” said Jane. “Neither of you do.”

“I’m as fit as a bull buffalo,” insisted Savage, but his voice was thick. He saw Jane’s expression alter. She was watching him intently, too intently. Something was wrong. His head began to spin and a strange numbness was creeping over him.

When he reached out to set the coffee mug on a stump, he fumbled and it rolled off. He saw it disappear over the edge and heard it strike the earth, but the sound seemed to come from a great distance.

Jane could have made a move to catch the mug, but didn’t. She stood between Savage and the extinguished fire, her eyes fixed on his face. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly and it was so quiet in the camp that he could hear the sound of his own breathing, unnaturally loud and rasping.

Julian Coder rolled backwards off the log and lay peacefully in the grass as though in a sound sleep.

Savage started towards the man, but had to halt when his legs threatened to buckle.

“Clinton!”

It was Jane’s voice, loud and reverberating. He stared at her, but had trouble focusing. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but the fog remained. Jane’s face became distorted and receded in his vision. Savage felt nausea stirring in the pit of his stomach, and heard himself mutter stubbornly, “It wasn’t the rabbit .

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