Will Tanner by William W. Johnstone

Will Tanner by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone [Johnstone, William W.; Johnsto]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2016-04-01T04:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER 10

Will did not spare the horses, or the bruised and battered body of Max Tarbow. It was fully fifty miles to the valley in the foothills of the Arbuckle Mountains, and he intended to make the trip in one day. With one stop halfway to rest the horses, he hoped to reach the ravine where the wagon was parked before dark, even with the late start. He soon found out, however, that he was not going to be able to cover that distance in one day. His chain was as strong as its weakest link, and the two horses picked up at John Carver’s stable turned out to be that weakest link. They proved not to be as stout as Will’s buckskin or his packhorse, showing signs of tiring after a distance he estimated at a little short of twenty miles. He was disappointed that he would not reach the mountains until the next day, because he knew it would be much easier to transport Tarbow chained in the wagon. And he couldn’t be sure that the wagon would still be there, even though he figured the odds were slim that anyone else would happen along to find it. In the meantime, Tarbow was content to rock along in the saddle after his treatment at the end of a rope. Will figured it would take a few days for him to recover from the beating he took.

After stopping in the middle of the day to rest the horses and feed his prisoner, Will pushed on to make camp by a tiny stream about ten miles short of the ravine in the foothills where Charlie Tate had parked the wagon. After he told Tarbow to step down, he led him to a tree and sat him down with his back against the trunk. With a long length of rope he wrapped a couple of turns around his chest, binding him up tight against the tree. He tied the loose ends to a limb about six feet from the ground. With Tarbow unable to move away from the trunk, he could not get up to untie the rope from the tree limb, leaving Will free to take care of the horses and get a fire started to cook something to eat.

Helpless to do anything but sit quietly and watch the deputy marshal make camp, Tarbow said nothing until Will brought him a metal plate with a generous portion of sowbelly and pan biscuits, and a cup of coffee. “This ain’t much to eat,” Tarbow complained, breaking his long silence.

“No, it ain’t,” Will agreed. “I ain’t much of a cook, but it’s the same grub I’m eatin’, so it won’t do you much good to bellyache about it.”

“You need to untie my hands, so I can eat,” Tarbow said.

“No, that’s where you’re wrong,” Will replied. “You just do it like this.” He slapped his wrists together and reached down as if picking up an imaginary cup with both hands and bringing it up to his mouth.



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