Six-Gun Gallows by Jon Sharpe

Author:Jon Sharpe [Sharpe, Jon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101197912
Google: AQYXLgEACAAJ
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 8082592
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2010-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Fargo, weary to the core of his bones, fell almost immediately into a deep sleep. In his pleasant dream, he was stretched out beside the bathing pool, first Krissy, then Rosario, bouncing up and down atop him in wanton abandon.

Mr. Fargo!

The women kept changing places as if by magic, and the confusion didn’t bother Fargo one bit. Then something began to shake his arm and Fargo started awake.

“Mr. Fargo, they’re coming!”

It was Dub shaking him, and Nate was sitting up in the tree, peering through the field glasses.

“Where they at now?” Fargo said, standing up and drawing his Colt to check the loads.

“They’re closing in on the spot where you shot at them yesterday—closing in slow, all spread out.”

“How many riders?”

“I count fifteen or so.”

“All right, here’s how they’ll likely play it. They’re going to—Nate, careful with those glasses, they reflect—they’re going to blast hell out of that spot. Soon enough they’ll realize there’s nobody there. Then they’ll start down the creek toward us, probing.”

Fargo tugged his Henry from its saddle boot and levered it to check the action.

“What are we gonna do?” Dub asked.

“You boys know what a pincers trap is?”

They both shook their heads.

Fargo said, “It’s hitting your enemy from two directions at once. It works best when you have the element of surprise, which we do. Dub, bring the Spencer and throw the ammo belt over your left shoulder. Let Nate use the Colt Navy I gave you. Each of you bring your Remingtons, too.”

Even as Fargo finished speaking, a blistering salvo of gunfire erupted about a mile east of them. The rapid crackle seemed to go on for at least thirty seconds.

“Tarnal hell,” Dub said. “That’s a right smart of guns.”

“It is,” Fargo agreed. “But a gun is no better than the man behind it. These jackleg ‘soldiers’ talk the he-bear talk, but they generally show the white feather when it comes down to the nutcuttin’. Remember, both of you, they believe in nothing, and that means they’ll save their own worthless hides if they get caught in a shit storm.”

“You were right, Mr. Fargo,” Nate called down. “They checked out the spot, and now they’re coming toward us real slow.”

“Come on down and get heeled,” Fargo told him. “Here’s how we play it. We’ll have the advantage of both creek banks between us and them, each with its own trees and bushes. So we scoot toward them on foot just like I did yesterday. I’ll station you boys at a good spot west of them. Then I’ll hurry on ahead to the spot they just shot up. I’ll pop out into the open and commence firing from behind them.”

“Step into the open?” Dub repeated.

Fargo grinned. “Some say I have a trouble-seeking nature, and some might be right. But I have to let them see me to focus their attention. You two don’t break cover, and that’s a strict order. Once I start shooting, they’ll whirl around to counter my attack. That’s when you two complete the pincers.

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