Ralph Compton Brimstone Trail (9781101612637) by Compton Ralph; Galloway Marcus

Author:Compton, Ralph; Galloway, Marcus
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin USA
Published: 2012-12-20T05:00:00+00:00

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It didn’t take long for Sprole to follow Noss through the sparse trees scattered along the side of the basin. Although there was plenty of scrub at the bottom, the knee-high bushes were covered in enough dry leaves to make a loud scraping noise whenever they were disturbed. While that made sneaking through them a difficult prospect, there was enough of a breeze to get plenty of those branches scraping against each other without anyone to help them along. Unless someone knew better, they could easily guess that the scrapes created by Sprole’s footsteps were caused by the wind. But Sprole did know better and he could easily discern the sound of Noss’s footsteps close behind him.

Sprole also knew how easy it was for a man to lose the element of surprise. All it took was one step that was just a bit heavier than the rest, one breath that was just a bit too loud, and a fight was on. If this went well, there wouldn’t even be a fight. If it went badly, the whole world could come crashing down around the bounty hunter’s ears.

Those cheerful notions occupied Sprole’s mind as he inched toward the campfire. The sheriff was beside him now, keeping pace as they stayed low and crept onward.

After several minutes that felt like just as many hours, they were close enough to the fire to hear the voices of the men around it. Sprole strained his ears to pick out specific words, but all he could make out was two distinct tones. The men at the fire seemed relaxed and making small talk. Even so, it galled Sprole that he couldn’t discern any more than that.

Noss tapped him on the shoulder. When Sprole looked over, the sheriff pointed to him and then swept his finger in a semicircle around the right side of the little campsite. Then he tapped the same finger against his own chest and made a similar gesture around the left side. Sprole nodded in agreement and the men separated so they could flank the camp from opposite sides.

Keeping his ears focused on the voices and his eyes pointed at the ground directly in front of him, Sprole looped out a short ways to put some distance between himself and the camp before coming around to his assigned angle.

Suddenly the voices stopped.

Even the wind took a moment of silence, leaving the sound of Sprole’s last step to echo in his ears like a gunshot. Soon he heard some rustling, which he assumed was the sheriff on the opposite side of the camp.

Then he realized those sounds had come from somewhere closer than where the sheriff should have been. On top of that, the camp was still unusually quiet. There was a chance that the two outlaws had simply decided to get some sleep. Another possibility was that they’d realized what was happening and were searching the darkness even now for a trace of the men who had pursued them this far.

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