Long Ride to Serenity by Harry Jay Thorn

Author:Harry Jay Thorn
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780719821172
Publisher: Robert Hale

CHAPTER EIGHT

WILD COUNTRY

It occurred to Fanning, a bit late in the day he had to admit to himself, that it might be worth half a day trying to backtrack the horse that had been tethered in the woods close by Stephen Monroe’s homestead. The day was cooler, laced with a light breeze which rustled the grass and the leaves on the trees. He found the trail again and followed it with difficulty for three miles, losing all sign of it by a dead, lightning-struck oak tree, its bark peeling and insect ridden, offering good forage for the few birds out that morning. The sorrel had been breaking a sturdy and rich-smelling wind all morning and was obviously uncomfortable. Fanning reined the animal in close to the oak and dismounted, aiming to loosen the cinch and to make a note not to allow the animal so much free ranging on the fresh green grass that grew along the Saddlebrook Creek flowing close by the town.

He had no idea that a man’s life could turn and be lost or saved by a humble honeybee and it was a certain fact he would never know. Standing by the oak tree resting his back and backside from the irritation of so much time in the saddle of late, not a means of travel he would have normally chosen, he leaned against the tree, experienced one of those lonely cigarette moments and would have been happy to roll a quirly from a sack of Durham, a habit long since quit but one that is never actually left behind.

And that moment is where fate had his life suspended.

Aaron Gumm had been trailing the lawman on and off for two days following the encounter at the creek between his target and the woman. Gumm had thought about that a lot, realising his was a simple life and to try and fathom out the human condition in any meaningful way was a pointless exercise. That the couple seemed to enjoy their godforsaken and dirty union in the open air was even more of a puzzle, but one he could bring to an end with a single light pressure on the front trigger of the Sharps rifle resting across the saddle of his motionless horse. Six hundred yards. He lined the leaf sight with care on the man’s back, the triggers were set and he brushed the front trigger at exactly the same moment that a honeybee entered the ear of the big horse and caused it to shiver. The movement was in measureable terms infinitesimal but over a range of six hundred yards it caused the heavy .50 calibre round to shift twelve inches to the right, tearing through the man’s white shirt sleeve but only lightly grazing his upper arm before burying itself deeply into the dusty bark of the oak tree, spraying wood chips with its passing.

Fanning was surprisingly fast on his feet for his age and as he dived to the left he turned, pulled

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