The Guns of C.C. Ellis by Ralph Cotton

Author:Ralph Cotton [Cotton, Ralph]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2022-07-26T00:00:00+00:00

New Water Stop One

Two days later

The rain had diminished only a little every few miles along the hillside trails and game paths leading away from the Gadsen Mine. Lightning had knocked down telegraph poles and lines all across the rugged foothills. The men at the mine, already suffering a bad shortage of horses, had no means to reach out for help, except to dispatch scouts and other riders to the nearest surrounding towns.

Those riders, once they’d managed to get a decent horse under themselves, took off in every direction with no intention of ever returning.

With the herd of wet, mud-splattered horses trailing closely in their wake, C.C. Ellis, Jackson Hoyt and Bailey McCool rode out of the foothills surrounding the Gadsen Mine. Much of the money from the robbery had been lost to the storm as men fell dead in the mud and rushing water inside the complex.

“We’ve lost a lot of our riders,” C.C. Ellis said to Jackson Hoyt as they stopped atop a muddy trail and looked out at the storm-ravaged land.

“The railroad and the Gadsen Mine lost more,” Hoyt said. “People die. It’s the business we’re in.”

Ellis let it go and said, “I put the word out for everybody to break up and go home. Everybody’s gotten a share.”

“With more to come,” said Jax, “the rest of it buried under some rocks. I’m sorry we lost men, but I’ll drink to them and remember them well. That’s the best I can do.”

“I know,” said Ellis. “I just hope we don’t lose any others now that it’s over. I figure the railroad and the mine have already upped any bounty they have on us.”

“They haven’t had time to do it legally yet,” Jax said. “They have to show proof it was us who did the robbing. They have to take it before a judge, get a ruling—”

“Since when does doing something legally matter?” said Ellis, cutting him off. “If the railroad security leaders tell their men our bounty has jumped from five thousand to ten, they’ll be out sniffing for us now before the rain stops—the greedy ones anyway.”

They rode on.

Bailey was already looking better, her strength coming back. With them were Harvey Brewer and Kid Santa Cruz. With Doc Gray rode his two men, Menard Baggs and Ave Pettigo, and now Sven Handley.

When they were less than five miles out of New Water Stop One, three men carrying rifles stepped off the steep rocky hillside above them, their three horses tied to a scraggly deadfall pine.

“Hands up,” shouted one, his rifle already pressed against his shoulder. His eyes widened at the sight of Ellis and Hoyt. “Blast a wild hog! Boys, we’ve done caught the leader himself!”

He saw that Ellis and Jackson had not raised their hands an inch. “Don’t test me, damn you!” he shouted. “Get them hands up!”

Along the trail, Bailey and the other riders had heard the voice and stopped. The horses on a lead rope stopped with them.

“All right, you heard him. Let’s raise our hands,” Ellis said.

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