The Wicked and the Dead by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pinnacle Books
Published: 2024-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 27

“There were only seven bodies.” Luke’s head was on a swivel as they rode back to the village. “Eight saddled horses in the corral, and I counted only seven.”

Uneasy about the uneven numbers of bodies and horses, Hack chewed his bottom lip in thought. Unable to sit still in the saddle, he twisted back and forth, searching for hidden threats. “They might have lost a man on the trail somewhere and brought in his horse.”

Ignacio led the way back on his mule, rifle once again across his thighs as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “That was a good shot, no?”

“You did well.” Luke was better at praising accomplishments than Hack, who expected men to do their jobs without wanting a pat on the head every time. Luke kept fiddling with a hat he’d taken from one of the dead men, forcing the crease into a shape he preferred.

When the smoke had cleared back at the ruins and Hack was sure the dead men were all talking with each other in hell, they’d gone through the outlaws’ belongings, finding shirts and pants that came closest to fitting their frames. He and Luke were tired of looking like Rurales, and there were enough clothes and boots to make re-outfitting easier.

They came up with over fifty dollars in mixed American coins and pesos. Luke saw a buckskin he liked better than the one they’d taken from the Mexican posse and used that first one to pack what they wanted to take with them. Ignacio still rode his mule, but he led a string of ponies to distribute to the other people back in his village. There was no sense in leaving behind good Henry rifles, Colts, and ammunition, so they outfitted themselves as well as when they’d first crossed the Rio Grande into that hell on earth.

“I feel more like an American for the first time in years.” Luke ran his fingers down the side of a vest containing a small bullet hole only a fraction of an inch from the middle button hole. Only a tiny spot of blood stained the garment. He wore a light blue shirt that one of the dead outlaws had rolled up in his saddlebag for when he wanted to dress up. “And these boots feel like they were made for me.”

Removing his own newly procured hat, Hack read the maker’s name in the lining and replaced it, tilting the brim low over his eyes. “Those the ones you found in that pack?”

“They are. Those guys had some style at least.” Luke worked on the hat brim some more. “They were kinda picky about what they stole. Kinda reminds me of us.”

His statement was a surprise. “What does that mean?”

“It was like that little town west of Carrion Springs. Remember, there was that rancher out there who was building his herd by rustling other people’s cattle. He hired those gunslingers to pick off a few of their hands, saying it was Comanches who killed them, but we all knew better.

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