Benedict and Brazos 4 by E. Jefferson Clay

Author:E. Jefferson Clay
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: action hero, westerns, stagecoach, western fiction, colt 45, piccadilly publishing, the wild west, gunfighters and outlaws, ebooks westerns, western book series
Publisher: Piccadilly

Eight – Benedict Talks Fast

Brazos stopped in front of the old Buckaroo Assay Office and watched his dog curiously. Bullpup was standing at the mouth of one of the old mine shafts that encroached right into the main stem itself. The big hound had one paw lifted and was staring into the black maw of the mine shaft, his hackles standing in a ragged ridge along his backbone. He turned to look at Brazos with yellow eyes, then trotted a little way into the shaft, growled uneasily and came back out, his hackles still up.

“What is it, ugly?” the man said softly, drawing his .45.

Bullpup emitted a sound that was half-way between a growl and a whimper. A shiver ran through his powerful, buffalo-shaped body.

“Okay,” Brazos said. “Move back and I’ll take a look.” He walked into the mouth of the tunnel and an ancient smell washed around him. He heard a swift scuttle in the loose earth and caught the glimpse of a tiny pair of red eyes in the darkness.

“Only rats,” he grinned as he came back out. “No call to get yourself in a twist.”

The dog fell in behind as he started off again, but his manner remained tense. He stared suspiciously at every shadow and his hackles never did go right down. Brazos was surprised at his nervousness, but felt the dog could hardly be blamed for that. Even for a tough trail hound, Buckaroo wasn’t an easy place to get used to.

The big man walked on through the silent night, hat tilted back, the fading light sheening on his heavy shoulders that strained against the thin material of his purple shirt. On leaving the Bella Union, Brazos had told Benedict he wanted to scout around for any sign of Comstock, but that was only partly true. Mainly, he wanted to prove to himself that the town didn’t really bother him, and after a half-hour patrolling the empty streets, he felt he was getting someplace. He still didn’t like Buckaroo, but he was a long ways more relaxed than when they’d walked in.

The mines of Buckaroo reached right into the town itself and Brazos grinned to himself when he passed a shaft sunk square in the middle of what once had been the courthouse lawn. Everywhere there were massive slag heaps and silhouetted against the twilight sky, the gaunt useless shapes of the old sluices and cranes, the jiggling machines and the ore separators.

He found rusted rail tracks running into the cavernous pits in the earth and he kicked an ancient ore cart into motion, sending Bullpup barking after it as it clattered away along the tracks to finally clang to a halt against a buffer.

Heading back for the Bella Union by way of the little creek that hooked around the town, Brazos let his eyes play over the rocky rim of the basin to the left, then around the red dirt flats to Half Moon Mesa and the Dinosaur Mountains beyond. There was no more visible sign of life out there than here in Buckaroo.

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