Stranglehold by Corba Sunman

Author:Corba Sunman [Sunman, Corba]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Robert Hale
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Kelf sprang from his saddle and trailed his reins. He grabbed his Winchester from its boot and ascended the side of the depression, threw himself flat. He saw heads and shoulders on the crest above and lifted his rifle. Slugs were thudding into the ground around his position but he concentrated on action. He fired two shots at fleeting targets, saw a man fall back as a bullet struck home, and then settled down to a steady fight. He paused to urge his four surviving men to start replying to the gun fire, and one of them stood up to look for a target and was struck down instantly by accurate fire from above. The others ducked and stayed down.

Kelf knew their position was untenable. He slid back to his horse, mounted, and paused to call to the cowering men.

‘We can’t stay here,’ he shouted. ‘Let’s get moving. Follow me and we’ll attack them from the left.’

He dug in his spurs and his horse sprang forward, leaving cover. Kelf kneed it to the left with crackling bullets following him. His hunched his body to minimize his target area and rode hell for leather, his rifle clasped in his right hand. He reached a sprawl of rocks some fifty yards to his right and dismounted in their cover. When he looked around for his men, he saw them riding fast downhill, back the way they had come and looking as if they would not stop until they reached town. He swung his gaze towards the position of their attackers, and saw four riders coming down from the crest, making for the spot where he was waiting, their guns blasting as they endeavoured to swamp him with fire.

Kelf dismounted and trailed his reins. He moved forward slightly to bring the attackers under his rifle and prepared for action. The men were in an irregular line about sixty yards above him. Kelf lifted his rifle to his shoulder, his eyes narrowed. He looked through his sights and centred on the nearest rider, moving his rifle to keep his aim ahead of the man. He fired, and the crack of the shot sent echoes fleeing across the range. The man wilted in his saddle until the starch ran out of him. Then he leaned forward, his rifle falling from his hands. He drooped over his saddle horn before pitching sideways and falling to the ground.

The other three riders continued as if they were on a ride to town on a Saturday. Kelf settled down and tossed lead at them, warming to the action. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. He fired three shots at the easy targets and three men went down. Kelf went back to his horse and mounted, continued to his left, aware that the volume of shooting coming from the crest had diminished considerably. He ascended the slope on a diagonal line, following a gully that gave him some protection from desultory fire.

Silence had fallen by the time he reached the crest.

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