Shawn Starbuck Double Western 1 by Ray Hogan

Author:Ray Hogan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Piccadilly

Two

A narrow trail led off to the right of the plateau, going down into the sink. He bypassed it, realizing it would take him down onto a level with the Apaches, and place him opposite rather than behind the man he sought to help, and so continued on.

Abruptly the flat dropped off into another fairly deep gully. He rode into it, cut right, and shortly entered the brush fringing the sink. The rider was below him now, but he could not be certain the same was true of all the Apaches; he had no idea how many braves were skulking about in the basin—how large the living noose that was tightening around its intended victim. He could only guess.

He gave thought to dismounting to improve his chances for passing unseen through the undergrowth, then dropped the idea. He would be moving slower if such a plan were followed, and time was running out for the stranger. He had to be stopped before he got beyond the protection of the rocks and brush.

Bent forward on the saddle, Shawn urged the gelding on, keeping to the narrow aisles between the rank growth and mounds of boulders. He saw no indication of additional braves, but took no confidence from that; he saw no horses either, knowing well the Apache’s ponies were somewhere nearby. If they could be successfully hidden, so could several more warriors.

The sorrel’s ears flicked suddenly as he paused in stride. Starbuck drew in instantly, the understanding between man and horse strong. The gelding had seen something he, himself, had missed. For a few moments he remained motionless in the heat-blasted depths of the brush-filled sink, listening, probing the undergrowth with careful eyes.

He could neither hear nor see anything suspicious. It could have been a bird veering through the shadows, or possibly a rabbit scampering out from beneath the sorrel’s hooves.

Lifting the leathers a bit, he started the gelding forward, now at a slower gait and with more thought to silence. He couldn’t be far behind the man with the lame horse, and if the Apaches had worked in, closed the loop, there was every possibility there’d be two or three of them ahead.

Starbuck saw the brave a split second before the coppery warrior, hearing the muted sound of the sorrel’s tread on the loose sand, wheeled. The Indian’s eyes flared in surprise and alarm; his mouth opened to yell just as Shawn, leaving the saddle in a low dive, hit him full on.

The brave went down in a flailing of arms and legs. A stifled cry escaped his lips despite Starbuck’s fingers clamped about his throat, and then there was a muffled groan as Shawn, again using the forty-five, clubbed him hard on the side of the head.

Instantly Starbuck was on his feet. He’d silenced the buck—but not soon enough. That one strangled sound would have been heard by others. They would hesitate, wonder, and then one or two were certain to investigate. He had only moments left now to

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