Savage Gun (A Piccadilly Publishing Western Book 13) by Neil Hunter

Author:Neil Hunter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: neil hunter, mike linaker, western fiction ebook, piccadilly publishing western, cowboys and gunfighters in the 1800s, utah prison
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Ten

Darkness came and the Apaches had made no more attacks. They made camp, well out of rifle-range, and simply sat watching the mission. It was a classic Apache tactic. The Apache loved nothing more than unnerving their opponents, letting them wonder why there was no attack, letting them sweat, letting them become jittery, so that when the Apache did launch their assault they would face an unsettled defense.

Matthew Cord knew the tactic well. It made no difference to him at all. Nor did he think it was going to bother Shelby’s bunch. Even so they worked out a watch rota. It wasn’t beyond the Apaches to launch a night attack, sneaking in silently during the dark hours. Cord had fought the Apache for most of his adult life. He knew their ways and he fought them on their own terms. It was the only way if a man wanted to stay alive.

He drew the early-morning watch and turned in after the meal the women prepared. Kate settled in her blanket close by, exhausted, and was asleep in a couple of minutes. Watching her Cord felt a momentary rise of desire for her but they were not alone like they had been that first night.

When he settled down he found sleep eluding him. Kate’s questions had roused his memory of his time in Yuma again. It was still fresh enough to be clear in his mind and for some reason he found he was reliving that day when the man named Murdoch came to see him.

~*~

A couple of guards had taken him to the prison governor’s office. The governor himself wasn’t there. In his place sat a tall, bleak-faced man with eyes that bored right through Matthew Cord. The man was dressed in a black suit. Under the coat he wore a white shirt and a black tie. The hands that rested on the top of the governor’s desk were long and slender, almost feminine, yet they gave the impression of great power. Minutes passed. Cord watched the man and the man watched Cord. Finally the man moved. He reached into his coat and took out a folded document. He unfolded it and laid it on the desk, turning it round so that Cord could read it.

‘Figure you’ve been in here long enough?’ the man asked. His voice was low, controlled, and his eyes watched Cord closely, searching for a reaction.

Cord wasn’t too sure how to take this stranger. He wondered what the man wanted. But somewhere at the back of his mind he sensed that this man represented a way out of Yuma and if that was so, then Cord wasn’t about to do anything that might spoil his chances.

‘Name’s Murdoch,’ the man said and he spoke in such a way that it might have explained everything. ‘If it matters I figure you got a raw deal. There are others who think the way you do—that too many of the trigger-happy bastards roaming the West are getting away with murder. Literally.

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