The Chuckwagon Trail by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone [Johnstone, William W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

“I’ll never be dry again,” Rattler grumbled from the seat of the chuckwagon. He pulled his yellow oilcloth slicker around him and kept his head down against the driving rain.

“When you get to Hell, it’ll be hot enough to dry you off,” Mac said as he swayed back and forth on the seat beside Rattler, who was still handling the reins. He had to agree with the cowboy about the weather. Since he had sprung Flagg from the Lewiston jail and caught up with the herd moving into the storm, it had not stopped raining.

A few times it looked like it was going to let up. It lied. After a pause, the rain pelted them even harder than before. Glancing up and swiping water from his eyes, Mac doubted he could see fifty feet. The only good thing about the rain was that it would wipe out their trail and maybe keep Marshal Wilkinson from following them. Other than that, Mac couldn’t find anything good to say for the incessant rain. It had been so bad, he didn’t know if it was still night or had turned to morning yet.

From the way his belly grumbled, he had to bet on morning. He fished out his pocket watch and held it up to get a better look at it.

“What time is it?” Rattler shouted over the drone of the rain hammering against their hat brims before running in tiny rivers down their slickers.

“Nine. Don’t know if that’s night or morning.”

“Got to be morning. When do you think Flagg is going to let us take a break? I’m ready to eat.”

“Me, too,” Mac admitted, though he would need at least an hour of preparation before he fed the hands. Building fires and cooking anything in this downpour was going to be yet another obstacle to overcome.

“No lightning in this storm. We’re lucky that way,” Rattler went on.

“Some luck. We might be driving the herd in a giant circle and will end up back in town.” If that happened, Mac vowed to shoot it out with the law, even the younger Wilkinson. That one looked to be a real menace sooner rather than later. He had heard stories of gunmen who were barely into their teens. The boy fit the bill exactly and already had the arrogance of a killer.

“Mac! Mac!”

“That’s Flagg,” Rattler said. He slowed the team as the sheets of rain fell endlessly around them.

A shape loomed up out of the murk and turned into a man on horseback. “I couldn’t find you,” Flagg said as he drew rein beside the wagon. “No sense trying to fix food. You got enough to serve cold?”

“I do. Won’t be much, though.”

“Better than nothing. I’m calling a halt to the drive for a while. The men are falling out of the saddle, and the cattle are getting cranky.”

“Nobody wants a cranky longhorn,” Mac agreed. His humor was the only thing dry this morning.

“Go on and dish up the food, then take a break. You’ve been awake as long as anybody.

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