Rider of the Ruby Hills by Louis L'Amour

Author:Louis L'Amour [L'Amour, Louis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Western
ISBN: 9780553899658
Google: pefWRQydjncC
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 8497395
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 1986-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

______ ROCK SHIFTED HIS attack with lightning speed. He missed a right, and following it in with the weight of his body, he slid his arm around Lamport’s thick neck. Grabbing the wrist with his left hand, he jerked up his feet and sat down hard, trying to break Lamport’s neck.

But the big renegade knew all the tricks, and as Rock’s feet flew up, Lamport hurled his weight forward and to the left, falling with his body half across Bannon. It broke the hold, and they rolled free. Rock came to his feet, and Lamport, catlike in his speed, lashed out with a wicked kick for his head.

Rock rolled away from it and hurled himself at Lamport’s one standing leg in a flying tackle. The big man went down, and as they scrambled up, Rock hit him with a left and right, splitting his right cheek in a bone-deep gash and pulping his lips.

Lamport was bloody and battered now, yet he kept coming, his breath wheezing. Rock Bannon stabbed a left into his face, set himself, and whipped a right uppercut to the body. Lamport gasped. Bannon circled and then smashed him in the body with another right and then another and another. Lamport’s jaw was hanging open now, his face battered and bleeding from a dozen cuts and abrasions. Rock walked in, measured him, and then crossed a right to his chin. He followed it up with two thudding, bone-crushing blows. Lamport reeled, tried to steady himself, and then measured his length in the dust.

Rock Bannon weaved on his feet and then walked to the watering trough and ducked his head into it. He came up spluttering and then splashed water over his face and body, stripping away the remnants of his torn shirt.

“We got ’em all, Boss,” Red said. “You want we should go after the settlers?”

“No, and leave their homes alone. Where’s Kies?”

“The storekeeper? Inside, I guess.”

Rock strapped on his guns and strode up the steps of the store with Red and Chavez at his heels. Kies was waiting behind the counter, his face white.

“Kies,” Rock said. “Have you got the bills for the goods you sold the settlers?”

“The bills?” Kies’s frightened eyes showed doubt and then dismay. “Why, yes.”

“Get ’em out.”

Fumblingly, Kies dug out the bills. Quickly, Bannon scanned through them. Then he took a match and set fire to the stack as they lay on the counter.

Kies sprang for them. “What are you doing?” he screamed.

“You’re payin’ the price of hookin’ up with a crooked bunch,” Bannon said grimly, as Chavez held the angry store-keeper. “You got a horse?”

“Yes, I have a—horse, but I—”

“Red,” Bannon turned. “Give this man some shells, a rifle, a canteen, and two days’ grub, skimpy rations. Then put him on a horse and start him on his way. If he tries to load that rifle or if he doesn’t ride right out of the country, hang him.”

“But the Indians!” Kies protested. “And my store!”

“You haven’t got a store,” Bannon told him harshly.

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