The Black Widow by John J. McLaglen

Author:John J. McLaglen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical, wild west, gunfighters, western fiction, american frontier, the old west, john harvey, piccadilly publishing, laurence james, jed herne
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Chapter Seven

Outside their shelter, Herne could hear Becky vomiting in the snow.

Retching and crying at the same time, coughing as she brought up the thick soup that she’d cooked for them all with the makings Coburn had brought from the store. Inside the shelter, Jed and Whitey crouched each side of the young gunman they’d taken prisoner. He was tightly bound, with ropes round his ankles and wrists tied behind his back. He was bare to the waist, and despite the cold his body was covered with a slick coat of sweat.

Sweat and blood.

Their main enemy in getting the man, whose name was Mel Tarrant, back to their camp was the weather. They waited for more men to ride out from Mount Abora, huddled down behind the rocks, the tip of Herne’s bayonet pricking Tarrant’s throat. They’d heard hooves, but only one man had appeared round the bend, peered cautiously through the driving sheets of snow, and galloped back to safety. Jed didn’t blame him.

At least half of the force slain, by nobody knew how many gunmen. Killers who might still be hiding in the rocks waiting to carry out further slaughter. It made a lot of sense not to wait around within rifle range.

Once darkness fell, it was comparatively easy for the two gunmen to hustle their prisoner back through the white carpet of snow, now well over ankle deep, and in places over the knees. Past the brightly-lit front gate, and in among the trees, stepping cautiously. Pushing Tarrant in front of them, and treading in his footprints, so that if there were any traps in the way it would be the boy who would lose his leg.

Becky was almost beside herself with worry, and grabbed Herne tightly round the neck, squeezing him to her. The fire had been well tended and there was a fresh pot of coffee steaming away brightly. It was good to be back out of the snow and in the warm.

‘They’ll know now that we’ve arrived. They’ll guess that you aren’t alone, Jed. Not with that many downed. So they’re going to stay holed up inside, jumping at every shadow.’

Herne nodded, cupping the hot mug in his hands, letting his mind and body relax after the tension and violence of the afternoon. Glanced across the fire to where the boy sat, blood dried brown over much of his face. Becky had made a move to help him, and wipe it clean, but Coburn had stopped her. Quite rightly, thought Herne. It didn’t do when you were about to ask someone some questions he might not want to answer to show him too much kindness.

As soon as he’d finished his coffee, Whitey began on Tarrant.

‘Right, Mel. You did say your name was Mel, didn’t you? Don’t want to get things wrong. Not right at the start like this.’

‘What do you want to know, Mister Coburn, sir? Just ask me and I’ll tell you.’

Lips pulled back from his teeth in what he thought passed for a reassuring smile, Coburn leaned forwards.

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