Spur by Matt Chisholm

Author:Matt Chisholm
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: wild west, old west, cattle ranch, matt chisholm, pulp western fiction, western frontier fiction, sam spur, cy james
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Chapter Eight

Another day, another cave.

Inez lay sleeping. Spur sat up, head muzzy with sleep, wondering if his hearing was playing tricks. There came whispering into the cave a soft prolonged shush of sound.

When the truth came, his head cleared and he was wide awake. The Spur luck had stayed good. He got to his feet and walked to the mouth of the cave, heading for the dawn’s cold light, hearing the distinct sound of rain now. It swept down the canyon in an almost solid sheet, bouncing violently from the rocks, starting flash floods here and there; above the clouds bunched darkly.

He squatted, thinking.

What the hell did he do now? He could stick to the schedule Jody had laid down for him, but would that get them any further forward in their intentions? He mustn’t fail Jody - time would be wasted if Jody wandered aimlessly around this country. The only good thing in sight was the rain that would wipe out any sign that could guide Gomez to the fugitives. He smiled. Jody must have foretold rain, for there were two slickers in their rolls.

He walked back down the cave, kneeled by Inez and woke her with a kiss. She came warmly out of sleep into his arms.

“Time we was movin’, honey. It’s rainin’.”

“Raining? That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Wipe out our tracks. But it don’t make ridin’ much fun.”

They ate together and then he made up their rolls, leaving the slickers. He put his on and went out to catch up the horse and the mule. The rain hit him in a solid sheet and almost blinded him, beating down noisily on his hat and the fish. At first, he couldn’t find the animals, but the roan whickered and he came on them sheltering under an overhang. That pleased him, for they were fairly dry and could take a blanket and saddle. He fetched the gear from the cave and saddled and bridled them both. Inez came out of the cave, lost in her slicker, her head covered with her shawl. She shrieked a little as the rain hit her and the sound was strangely feminine in these surroundings. For a moment, they sheltered under the overhang with the animals. He put his mouth close to her ear and asked; “Don’t you have any family at all, but your father?”

She looked surprised. “Why, of course.”

“Who?”

“My uncle, Enrique. My father’s brother.”

“Where’s he at?”

“He has his own place, a ranch in the old Mexican style. San Patricio.”

“How far from here?”

She thought a moment. “A day’s ride maybe.”

“What sort of an hombre is this Uncle Enrique?”

She smiled up at him perkily. “A fine man. An uncle you would dream of. Full of good stories and kindness. Still chases the girls, but he loves horses better, I think.”

Spur had to laugh. “Sounds good.” He made his decision. He couldn’t move with this girl around him. Everything he did he related to her. His fear for her tied him like rawhide. “I’m takin’ you there.”

She looked startled.

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