The Lawmen by Broomall Robert

Author:Broomall, Robert [Broomall, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2012-05-31T04:00:00+00:00

17

Morning on the desert—bright, clear, and hot. The sun blazed down. Three men rode over the undulating foothills of the Verdugo Mountains, half hidden by the thick covering of mesquite and creosote and cactus. Pools of water lay here and there, a rarity in this normally parched country. Fed by last night’s rain, wildflowers bloomed in a sudden profusion of yellow and pink and white. Besides the rhythmic clopping of the horses’ hoofs, the only sounds were those of a woodpecker tapping a saguaro and the calling of a cactus wren. In the distance a hawk circled.

Clay and Essex rode side by side, with Vance Hopkins behind them, still tied up. Clay held the reins of Vance’s horse. They were not on the main road to Tucson. There were stage relay stations on the road where they could have changed horses, but the station operators were shady types who would know the Hopkins brothers. Clay and Essex were as liable to get a bullet in the back there as they were to get help. Besides, that was the way Wes and his men would follow them.

Having prospected the Verdugos, Clay knew a back trail that would take them to Tucson. It was more roundabout, but there was less likelihood of running into trouble, and unless Wes had good trackers, he would never find them.

Beside Clay, Essex breathed deeply, smelling sage and mint and wildflowers. “I love the desert after it rains. Everything gets so green and fresh. Look at all this bunch grass. I bet you could raise some good cattle here, if you could find a way to get ’em water. ”

“Stop worrying about cattle and keep your eyes peeled for Cochise and his friends,” Clay told him. “They damn near got me last time I was out here. Wasn’t all that far from where we are right now, neither. ’Sides, you couldn’t raise no cattle. Government wouldn’t sell you the land.”

Behind them Vance moaned. “Ooh, God, I feel awful. Let me have some water, will you?”

Clay halted his horse and dismounted. He undid the rope that bound Vance to the saddle, then unstopped his canteen and passed it to the young outlaw. Vance tilted the canteen to his lips and drank, gulping repeatedly. Water spilled down his mouth and chin. He put the canteen down, took a few deep breaths, then drank again. “Untie my hands, too, will you?” he asked Clay. “I ain’t gonna run.”

Clay did as Vance asked, then he remounted and the little party continued on. “That’s why I gave him the bottle last night,” Clay told Essex. “Figured it’d make him easier to manage.”

“It made me sick is what it did,” Vance complained.

“At least it was decent whiskey,” Clay said. “I could have got you a bottle of that stuff they sell to the Indians.”

Essex took off his beehive-shaped wool hat and wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “How big a lead you reckon we got on Wes?”

“Big enough,” Clay said. “We can’t slack off, though.

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