Ralph Compton Tucker's Reckoning (9781101607770) by Compton Ralph; Mayo Matthew P

Author:Compton, Ralph; Mayo, Matthew P.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin USA
Published: 2012-10-21T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The three had ridden a half mile in silence, the land rising steadily, until they were well out of earshot of the surveyor’s day camp. Tucker heard nothing but the wind soughing through the tall trees.

“So, fellas, what can you tell me about those trespassers back there? It seems pretty obvious they’d been lied to by your boss, Bentley Grissom.”

As if he hadn’t heard a thing Tucker had said, Rummler spoke. “Just what in hell did you think was going to happen back there, boy? Telling that fine fancy man from England all them lies about us? Who do you think he’s going to believe? An escaped killer such as yourself, or a couple of hardworking men looking for a way to keep the peace with a whole townful of folks with violent tendencies?” Rummler’s reedy voice cackled.

Tucker glanced at Rummler, a couple of dozen feet to his left, and fixed his mind on how he might escape. Vollo appeared beside him, riding in tight. It reminded Tucker of how Emma had said the pair had crept up on her that night. He didn’t think for a minute that they were going to bring him to town. But he could stall the proceedings, maybe learn something while he looked for some way to escape.

He glanced at Vollo, took in for the first time what a foul piece of work the swarthy little man was. He looked to be wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing when he shot Payton Farraday. And that had been weeks before. Now that the wind shifted down closer to ground level, Tucker found himself just downwind of the man. His eyes watered at the man’s sour-sweat stink. Didn’t anybody ever tell him he smelled like a gut pile, baking in the sun and drawing flies?

“Look, gents. Why don’t you give me back my rifle? I’ll go on my merry way—I’m busy, you know. Lots of things to do.” He slowed the buckskin to a walk, hoping to slip behind, even a few steps. He might have stood a chance if he headed down the thickly treed slope that fell away for several hundred yards before leveling out at what looked to be a dried streambed.

“What do you think you’re doing, boy?” Rummler dropped back and drew his pistol. “You slow us down again and I am liable to open you up with this here six-shooter like a surgeon would a man’s gut. Only a surgeon has a reason to save a man’s life.” He smiled again. To his other side, Vollo let out with a rattling laugh that echoed down the slope.

Instead of riding ahead, the two killers matched his horse stride for stride and edged closer with each step. Soon they were sandwiching him, their boots rubbed his, the horses bumped and nudged one another, and Jasper thrashed and fought the tight reins.

To their right, the land leveled off and the trees thinned close up. Beyond, smooth ground, the sort of terrain on which a man might give his horse its head, maybe outrun those trailing him.

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