Conagher by Louis L'Amour

Author:Louis L'Amour [L'Amour, Louis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Usenet, C429, Kat, Exratorrents
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 1969-01-07T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

* * *

THE WOUNDED MAN was muttering, and suddenly he asked for water. Conn brought it to him in the long-handled drinking gourd and held it for him while he drank.

Hi Jackson looked up at him. “I’m in pretty bad shape, ain’t I?”

“I’d say so.”

“You’re Conagher?”

“Uh-huh.…The kid brought you in—Scott.”

“He’s…he’s a good boy. He ought to go home.”

Then Jackson lay quiet, breathing heavily. He’d lost a lot of blood, and Conagher didn’t think he had much time.

“I got to leave you pretty quick. When it’s dark your outfit will be down here after me.”

“You ain’t goin’ to make it, Conagher. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know nothing of the kind. But if I don’t make it, they will be buryin’ four or five of your boys with me. They didn’t pick on no pilgrim. I’ve been through this a time or two.”

Shadows stretched out from the house, gathered in the lee of the bunk house. Now…soon there would be no more time.

He filled a cup with the black coffee and sipped it while making his rounds of the windows. Then he stuffed his pockets with shells, glanced again at the wounded man, and edged over to the window.

Again he looked toward the ranch house. Where were Tay and Leggett? Suddenly he glimpsed a shadow, the shadow of a running man. There was no time for a shot, no time for anything.

He went out the window and made it to the corral corner in a long, swift dive. A man moved near the far corner, and as he moved a rifle shattered the stillness and the running man fell sprawling. Instantly there were three more shots, all of them from the house!

Another man was down, and Conn could hear somebody swearing.

Whoever was in the house had wisely held their fire until the attackers expected no danger from that quarter. Two men were down now, and the one in plain sight was dead.

Crouched at the corner of the corral, Conn saw a flicker of movement—something white. He looked again, and saw that it was a paper tied to a tumbleweed—another message like the one he had found before.

It was within reach, and he put out a hand and cautiously untied it. It was too dark to read it, and he thrust it carefully down into his pocket.

The dusk was deceiving. Straining his eyes, he tried to make out some further movement, but there was none.

In another minute he heard a whisper. “Tile? Back out…we’re pullin’ away.”

There was a shuffling movement of someone crawling along the ground. Conn had his gun up and could have scored a sure hit, but what was the use?

If he fired now they would surely return his fire and he would likely get hit. If they were pulling out, let them go. There was no point in it if they were quitting. Smoke Parnell had never had more than nine or ten men that Conn knew of, though there could be more…and he had lost three here today.

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