Drifter 4 by Jake Henry

Author:Jake Henry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: colt 45, apache indians, piccadilly publishing, american frontier fiction, bent towns, jake henry western, the drifter western series
Publisher: Piccadilly

The rider out the front of the column broke away and rode towards Savage and Benson. He drew up at the hitch rail beside Savage’s pinto. The Drifter heard footsteps behind him and Walker say, ‘A good patrol I see, Lieutenant Davis. A few more captives than I’d hoped for but no matter. Question them and then we’ll start hanging them in a couple of days. Have some of the men put up on the racks. The ones that are already there, cut them down and bury them.’

‘Some of them ain’t dead yet, general,’ Benson pointed out.

‘Well shoot them then,’ Walker said with a childish sarcasm.

The callousness of it all might have shocked most men, but not Savage. Not now. Not after what he’d witnessed inside.

Then something caught Savage’s eye. Or rather a someone. He was a big man with straggly, blond hair and a big mustache. He wore a brown shirt and buckskin pants. At that point in time, his eyes were fixated on the men dragging the corpse of Bipin across the parade ground.

Savage watched as he climbed down from his bay horse and walked towards the men. He said something to them and they stopped. The big man then started to take a knife from its scabbard and the Drifter knew what he was about to do.

Starting forward, Savage had covered half the distance between them before he spoke, ‘Hold it right there you big son of a bitch.’

Dark stopped and glared at the man who approached him. How dare someone stop him from what he was doing?

‘This should be interesting,’ Savage heard someone say.

The distance between the two men closed quickly and Savage stood facing Dark who held the sharp knife down at his side.

‘What the hell do you want?’ the big scout growled. ‘Make it quick, I got me some hair to lift.’

The blow that Savage landed rocked Dark back onto his heels. It was all a blur to those who watched on. One moment the Drifter was standing there unmoving, the next, his right hand had streaked forward and hammered the Fort McLane scout flush on the jaw.

He followed the first with a second and the scout sat down hard. The scout shook his head and raised the knife to point it at Savage. The Drifter kicked out with his right boot and caught the knife hand, knocking the blade loose. It spun harmlessly through the air to land ten feet away from them.

A murmur ran through the onlookers. They’d never seen any man knock the wild scout down before.

Dark climbed slowly to his feet, a thin line of blood running from the corner of his mouth. He wiped at it and then scowled at Savage, ‘I don’t know who you are, or why you did that, but know this. I aim to kill you for it, mister.’

The big scout lumbered forward and swung a wild blow at the Drifter’s head. Savage went underneath it and as he came up, he drove another right fist just below Dark’s heart.

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