Way of the Gun by Ralph Hayes

Author:Ralph Hayes [Hayes, Ralph]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Robert Hale
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Just a few hours after Sumner had met the Bible drummer on the trail, he crossed over into the Indian Territory. Now two days later, he would spend one more night in hardship camp before riding into Pawnee Junction. He expected to be there early the following day.

He found a place to stop in a cluster of mesquite trees, where a large flat butte loomed off to the west. The site looked as if it had been recently used by other persona, and he wondered if it had been Latham and his men. He looked around for any sign of their presence, but found nothing. It had been a long day and he was tired. He picketed the stallion to a sapling and gathered some dry wood for a fire. He was out of food now, and had done no hunting for game, so would have to content himself with a cup of coffee and half a soda biscuit. He got the fire going and returned to the horse to retrieve the coffee, when he heard the metallic clicking of a gun being cocked behind him.

He swore under his breath. His fatigue had made him careless. Now he heard the soft whinny of a horse from behind a nearby rock outcropping, just before the voice directly behind him.

‘Don’t turn. Don’t breathe or you’re a dead man. Get them in the air.’

Sumner hesitated, then obeyed, raising his hands. ‘I have little to rob,’ he said, staring straight ahead. He felt a hand slide his Colt from its holster, and a heavy weight sank into his chest. But he wasn’t completely defenseless. He was wearing his dark riding jacket because of the cool air, and whenever he put that on, he added the one-shot Derringer to his belt at the back, in its special, break-away holster. There was no way, of course, that he could get to that now.

‘OK. You can turn now.’

Sumner turned to see a bearded, rough-looking man holding a Remington Army revolver on him. Sumner’s Peacemaker was tucked into his belt. Sumner remained calm and casual.

‘Take what you want. But there isn’t much.’

‘Did I tell you to talk?’ the intruder said harshly. ‘You look like a gambler, mister. Gamblers always have money stashed somewhere. You got gold coin in them saddlebags, or hid in your bedroll?’

‘I’m not a gambler,’ Sumner told him. ‘You’re wasting your time with me.’ He realized he was only being kept alive because he might lead the intruder to a cache of wealth. ‘Well. I do have a few coins.’

The other man’s face brightened. ‘Of course you do! That’s more like it, hot stuff. Where exactly is this cache?’

‘It’s not a cache,’ Sumner said, stalling for time, and feeling the Derringer heavy at his mid-back. ‘They’re in a leather poke, and I’ll have to take a look for it.’ Without asking permission, he walked the few feet to his mount, and rummaged through the near saddle-bag.

‘It’s on the other side,’ he announced. ‘Just a minute.’

Again, before the other man could object, he walked around the stallion past its head.

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