The Battle At Three-Cross by William Colt MacDonald

Author:William Colt MacDonald [William Colt MacDonald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781428505087
Publisher: Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

XIV

Manley Disappears

Lance threw himself swiftly across the stretch of sandy soil intervening between himself and Katherine, threw one arm around her waist and forced her to the earth. Then he half dragged, half carried the girl behind the shelter of an upthrust of granite rock. Even as he moved another leaden missile scattered dust and gravel close to his body.

“You stay there—down, out of sight!” Lance snapped.

Turning, he sprang to his pony, gathered the reins and leaped into the saddle without touching stirrup. The roan gelding needed no more than a touch of the spur to get into motion.

“Lance,” Katherine wailed. “Come back! You’ll be hit!”

“You stay out of sight,” Lance yelled back over his shoulder.

He was riding low in the saddle, crouched behind his horse’s head. Those shots had come from an easterly direction, and Lance was heading toward a brush-covered ridge from which he calculated the shots had been fired. It wasn’t easy going. There was too much brush and cacti barring the way.

“Damn cactus!” Lance growled, and touched the gelding again with his spurs.

He was nearing the side of the ridge now, momentarily expecting to ride straight into a hail of rifle fire. Lance’s six-shooter was out, but he could see nothing at which to shoot. His eyes were intent on the ridge ahead. No further shots were forthcoming. Lance wondered if the hidden assailant was holding his fire for close-up work. The tough little gelding dug in its hoofs and scrambled, panting, up the side of the steep slope.

It was slow going, but finally horse and man reached the crest. From this position Lance had a wide view of the surrounding country, but there was nothing to be seen except a vast sea of mesquite, paloverde trees, creosote bush and cacti, with the hot sun making shimmery waves of the distant landscape.

Suddenly a dark, racing figure caught Lance’s eye. It disappeared behind tall brush, again came into view farther on and once more disappeared, moving fast. It was a rider, all right, but too far away to be recognized. Lance swore softly under his breath. “That coyote is heading for Pozo Verde but he’s got too much of a head start for me to overtake him before he gets there. Cripes! Once in town, he’d quickly lose himself. I reckon I’d better go back. This might be a trick to draw me off. After all, that first shot came a heap closer to Katherine than it did to me. I wonder which one of us that sidewinder was aiming to get. Maybe both. It was dang good shooting, at that. Blast the luck! There are too many good riflemen not getting caught.”

He turned his pony back down the ridge and started toward the spot where he had left Katherine. The sun was swinging wide to the west by the time he returned. The girl was waiting anxiously, and a look of relief swept across her face as his pony moved out from the tall brush.

“Lance!” she exclaimed.

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