The Warhunter 2 by Scott Siegel

Author:Scott Siegel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: bounty hunter, pulp fiction, action hero, western fiction, fiction action, colt 45, comanche indians, best western ebook, westerns 1880s, lawmen and gunslingers
Publisher: Piccadilly

Chapter Seventeen

He and Dekker had talked for a long time. Hunter wondered if Laura was finished with her shopping by now. He ambled over to the wagon to see if she was anywhere around. She wasn’t.

Hunter stepped into the general store and asked where Mrs. Taffler had gone. The man behind the counter didn’t know. She had finished her business with him and left ten minutes before. Thinking that she had some other chores to take care of that she hadn’t mentioned, Hunter figured he had time to look up Vic Hogan and see about his horse.

He was halfway up the north side of the street when, from somewhere behind him, he heard a drunken, profane yell. He whirled around and saw a liquored-up miner who had mounted the wrong pony.

This horse didn’t want any part of his strange rider. He was bucking and kicking like a wild stallion. Hunter wouldn’t have cared one way or another about the drunk except he saw that Laura Taffler was in the path of the rampaging bronc.

She had just come out of Rupert’s Hardware Store and was crossing the street when the commotion started. Someone else, frightened by the bucking horse, and in haste to get out of danger, knocked Laura to the ground. And now, as Hunter watched, Laura was in danger of being trampled to death.

He’d have simply shot the horse, but there was no telling how it might fall. It could easily crash down onto Laura and crush her. The miner wasn’t helping matters. If he would just fall off the damn horse, it would likely calm down, but the drunken fool was enjoying the ride and somehow sticking to the saddle. If Hunter couldn’t shoot the horse, he could do the next best thing. He drew his six-gun, took aim at the miner, and pulled the trigger.

Hot lead screamed past the miner’s face, tearing off a small piece of his left ear. The drunk dropped the reins and grabbed for the side of his head. At the sound of Hunter’s gunfire the horse reared again and the miner went tumbling out of the saddle, landing heavily on the hard-packed street. As soon as the miner was off his back, the horse settled down and trotted over to Leach’s Stable where he stopped at the water trough and drank.

There is no sight quite like that of looking up at a rearing bronc, its legs high up in the air, ready to stomp you. All you can see, it seems, are the hoofs and the massive underbelly of the horse’s body. It was no wonder that Laura was dazed and shaking.

Hunter helped her to her feet.

“I thought I was going to be killed,” she uttered softly. Her breathing was still irregular.

“Come over here,” said Hunter, leading her slowly toward a chair on the boardwalk in front of the hardware store.

“I’m all right. Really,” she protested.

“Never mind. Just come along.”

Rupert Paddock was outside his store and helped Laura into the chair. “I’ll get a glass of water,” he offered.

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