Trail's End by E. L. Ripley & Ralph Compton

Author:E. L. Ripley & Ralph Compton [Ripley, E. L. & Compton, Ralph]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2021-01-12T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Just the smell of the spirits from the stills was enough to make Tom light-headed, and the outlaws drank it like water. There was one named Otis who never drank a drop but appeared to spend every waking moment tending to the stills. He was a skinny fellow, and young, but the others helped him when he needed it.

Tom watched him work, perched on the worst excuse for a bench he’d ever seen. When they’d come here, the outlaws must have had a wagon with them. Very nearly every piece of furniture they had constructed was built from wagon parts, and Tom couldn’t help but wonder how they’d done it. It was foolish enough to have horses in these hills; it was inconceivable that they’d driven a wagon this deep. Had they broken it apart and carried the pieces in?

It was easier to think about something like that, something that didn’t matter, than what would be going on in Friendly Field right now. Was the kid being smart? Was Phillip letting people wonder where Tom had gone, or had he done Tom a favor and told them a story? What did Mary think? Tom’s greatest worry was what he’d told her. Would she be alarmed at his departure? Enough to let something slip? He wished he’d had the courage to say something to her before he left.

Maybe it had been a mistake to tell her the truth. If so, he couldn’t change it now.

“You look like you need it,” a man said, appearing at his side with a flask.

“I can’t,” Tom told him apologetically. “It’ll put me to sleep and make my head hurt.”

“Your loss.” The outlaw sat beside him, following his gaze to the tent where John and Peckner were presumably conferring. “You really kill them Fulton boys?”

Tom sighed. “Afraid I did.”

“You’ll swing for it if they get irons on you.”

Tom nodded. “I know.”

“Then why’d you run to the law? Tom, right?”

Tom leaned over and put out his hand. “You?”

“Creel. You seen my poster out here?”

“Not that I can recall.”

The man looked relieved. “Well, answer me, then.”

“Because I didn’t want trouble. I figured I’d lie low when the law came around, and they’d keep the Quakers safe. There’s a lady there I’m sweet on. Those poor folks have enough problems without anyone’s help.”

Creel nodded and rubbed his face, which was full of freckles.

“I did those things,” Tom added. “But I don’t want to do them anymore. If I can help it.”

“You think you can just hang it up?” the outlaw asked curiously.

“If it was that easy, I wouldn’t be here.”

Creel snorted. He reached into his shirt and took out a folded piece of paper.

“I hear you,” he said, opening it up. On it was a startlingly skilled portrait in charcoal. The girl was pretty. “I want to hang it up too, and I would have if we didn’t have to wait here so long. I’d’ve been back to Sacramento to get her and go back East months ago. But we got to wait.

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