Blood for Blood by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2019-02-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

The men were too far away for John Henry to recognize them. There were really only two possibilities when it came to their identities, though.

Either they were a pair of Jed Montayne’s men who had taken him for one of the bushwhackers . . .

Or they were two of the outlaws who were looking for the man who had double-crossed them at Packsaddle Gap.

Either way, their goal would be to put a bullet in his hide.

John Henry pulled Iron Heart’s head to the right, kicked the big gray into a run, and leaned forward in the saddle to make himself a smaller target. The range was pretty long for handguns, and the light was already uncertain. The odds of the gunmen being able to hit him were small, but it made sense to decrease those odds.

Iron Heart responded gallantly, as always, stretching out into a smooth, ground-eating stride that had man and horse flashing across the landscape. The pursuers had a good angle on him, but John Henry was beginning to think that Iron Heart could outrun them.

Suddenly, two more riders appeared . . . in front of him.

John Henry groaned. The excitement of the chase had made him forget for a moment that he was wounded, but the pain in his side wouldn’t be ignored for long.

On top of it, he had a fight on his hands. The two men in front of him forced him to turn more to his right, so that he was almost galloping back the way he had come from.

He needed to break through them somehow—not easy to do, the shape he was in. At least he still had his Colt. His Winchester had been lost when he dropped it back at Packsaddle Gap, after Purcell shot him.

He drew the revolver, but didn’t waste bullets by shooting it. His pursuers would have to get closer, as they did steadily with one group turning him toward the other. The first two riders had cut in behind him and he was trapped.

If he was going to survive to finish his job, he would have to fight his way out.

John Henry turned the gray and made a dash in a different direction, thinking he could squirt between the two groups.

Each pair split up, completely surrounding him. He had to rein in to keep himself out of their gunsights.

As he brought Iron Heart to a halt, the four pursuers slowed as well, coming to a stop about fifty yards from him, each at a different point of the compass. They holstered their handguns, and John Henry realized they hadn’t really been trying to hit him.

They were just herding him, like he was a dumb animal. That knowledge was a bitter pill to swallow.

The men pulled rifles from their saddle sheaths, but only one raised the weapon to his shoulder. “Throw your gun down, Saxon!” he shouted.

That answered one question, anyway, John Henry thought. Montayne’s men wouldn’t have known the name he’d been using, so they were members of Garrett’s gang.

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