Killer's Moon (A Breed Western #12) by James A. Muir

Author:James A. Muir
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: revenge, elmore leonard, louis lamour, cormac mccarthy, western action, western ebooks, george g gilman, james reasoner, angus wells, b n rundell
Publisher: Piccadilly

Azul went back to the river gate, but all the guards there could tell him was that the wagon had crossed over along with Braddock, then turned south and east. Nothing had been said about the Bartholomews’ direction or destination.

The half-breed returned to his horse, pondering his next move. The wagon had a start of at least three days, which put it anywhere within around sixty to seventy miles of the trading post. Even allowing for the greater speed of the gray stallion, that gave the preacher and his ugly daughter a whole lot of territory to hide in, territory that was unfamiliar to Azul. Pursuing them with nothing more than a vague direction could too easily set him on the wrong trail, and consequently allow them even more time in which to get lost. Waiting, he decided, was his only course: maybe Braddock would know where they were headed. He went back to the saloon.

‘You stayin’ over?’ Levi asked. ‘Want a room again?’

Azul shook his head. ‘Sooner sleep outside.’

‘Yore choice.’ The barkeep shook his head now, in surprise. ‘Put yore horse up in the corral. Braddock said it’d be all right.’

Azul led the gray over to the corral and turned the animal loose. He forked hay from a pile by the fence and checked that the water trough was full, then he stacked his saddle in the tack room and went back to the main building. He was suddenly aware that he was hungry.

The Indian woman brought him food and a pot of coffee, and he settled down to eating with the slow deliberation of a man with time on his hands.

It passed slowly, for now he was waiting with no definite end in sight. Given a firm objective – the arrival of an enemy, or the passing of a deer he was hunting – he could have remained immobile for an indefinite period, waiting with the stoic patience instilled by his Chiricahua upbringing. But now he was restless, not even sure that Braddock would know where the wagon had gone. Not certain when the trader would return. He had no wish to remain in the malodorous saloon, despite Levi’s repeated offers of whiskey or the invitation to join the card game that had started. He had only a vague idea of the intricacies of poker, and no desire to lose what little money he still had. Instead, he wandered through the trading post, confirming his original impression of a fort.

Cutting down the grassy alley where he had spent the first night, he found two armed guards posted outside the windowless store house containing the guns. They greeted him in a friendly enough fashion, but made it obvious that his presence near the building was not exactly welcome. He wandered back to the corral and passed more time grooming the stallion.

As dusk settled in he returned again to the saloon and ate another meal. Then he went back to the corral and spread his blanket on the grass inside the fence.

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