Legion of Fire by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-05-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 27

It was well into the afternoon before they rode away from the wedge of high rocks. Luke, Burnett, and Russell would continue on north or wherever the trail of the Legion raiders led them. Keith Mason and Pete Hennesy headed back south, each pulling a drag litter loaded respectively with Whitey Mason and Swede Norsky.

The parting of the two groups was somber and rather abrupt. Each knew the other had a difficult task ahead of them, with no precious time to waste. Other than an exchange of “good-byes” and “good lucks,” there wasn’t much more to say.

* * *

The elderly Mason’s bleeding had been slowed considerably but not completely stopped. If it didn’t get worse again during the trip, he had a fair chance of making it. If it did get worse, things could be dicey. As for the Swede, they had cupped the underside of a saddle around his back and lashed it there to brace him as rigidly as possible before loading him faceup onto his litter. Doing the necessary positioning was excruciating for the big man, though once he was secure on the litter he seemed relatively comfortable.

In the time it had taken Luke and Keith Mason to round up the scattered horses, which was longer than anticipated because the frightened beasts had bolted a considerable distance in every direction imaginable, Burnett and Hennesy had covered Harry Barlow in rocks. While they were doing that, Russell had returned to the stand of trees on the back side of the buttes where he’d cut and trimmed six sturdy, wrist-thick saplings to serve for the drag litter poles. Only four were necessary at the start, two for each litter, with blankets secured between them to function as beds for the injured men; the additional saplings were spares in case one of the initial poles broke being pulled over the largely treeless prairie.

Riding away from the wedge of high rocks, Keith Mason and Pete Hennesy headed back south, each pulling a drag litter loaded respectively with Whitey Mason and Swede Norsky. Luke, Burnett, and Russell continued north or wherever the trail of the Legion raiders led them.

* * *

Within minutes of circling around the buttes and again picking up the trail of the Legion raiders, Luke spotted what they had been expecting yet hoping against . . . the tracks of the outlaws had split into two different sets. Nine riders continued on north; nine others swung out to the west. There were no distinguishing marks in any of the tracks to give Luke a clue as to who was riding in any particular bunch.

“So what do we do? Which set of tracks do we follow?” Russell said, his tone tinged with anxiety and frustration.

“Every reason to think they’re all headed to the same spot eventually,” Luke replied. “It’s just a matter of what route they take and how hard they work at fogging their trail. If we continue into more broken terrain ahead of the actual badlands, that will make it easier for them to do and harder for us to follow.

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