Stryker's Ambush ( a Stryker Western #2) by Chuck Tyrell

Author:Chuck Tyrell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: adventure, historical fiction, mexico, pulp fiction, wild west, cowboys, militia, western fiction, piccadilly publishing, stryker series, whipple
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Stryker rode through the night, keeping to a westerly direction by the stars and letting the zebra dun choose the way. A dozen kinds of cactus dotted the land, but it was no jungle. The zebra stepped confidently through the cacti. None brushed the horse or his rider.

In the gray of the dawn, Stryker hit the stage road that ran north and south from Tucson to Nogales. He reined the zebra onto the road and headed him south as the sun pushed its way over the horizon. Cactus wrens began their chatter, and zopilote buzzards rode the thermals off the desert in search of carrion. Sunlight hit the western edges of a cut the stage road went through, and Stryker searched the heights for movement. No one knew he was coming, but that didn’t keep him from staying alert.

Halfway through the cut, he could hear the sounds of encampment. Breakfast would soon be on, he surmised, and the men were shaking off a night’s sleep.

Stryker emerged from the cut to find the Nogales Guards spread across at least twenty acres to the east. He slowed the zebra to a leisurely walk and watched the morning begin. With the usual bandana, he wiped the tears from his cheek.

The bandana went back into its customary pocket. In a comparatively open space, Stryker reined the zebra to a halt. He dismounted, stretched, and began to inspect his horse’s hoofs. Twice he took out his Barlow knife to dig at a rock or trim some frog, and he casually glanced at the encampment from time to time as he worked.

Someone had spent a good sum. The tents were new and lined up with military precision. Wagons stood off to one side. Some were empty, others had yet to be unloaded. A mess tent stood uphill of the encampment, and cooks bustled at fixing the morning meal. A bugler called reveille, and men poured from their tents. By the time the last notes of the bugle call drifted away, the men were in formation. Stryker quickly counted them. Sixty four in formation with sergeants in front. Three apparent officers strode to position in front of the formations. None of the Guards were in uniform, but one group stood out. The men lined up as if they’d been in the army before, and the big man who shaped them up seemed to know what a sergeant was supposed to do. They were dressed right and ready before the others, and the noncom braced and saluted his officer. “A Troop present and accounted for, sir.” Stryker could hear his words well in the clear morning air.

One man strode to the center of the formations. No doubt he was Arthemus Canby. He alone stood in uniform, a tan affair with black stripes on the legs and black-and-gold epaulets on the shoulders. The sleeves had black braid just above the cuffs as well.

Stryker loosened the saddle cinch and took the bit from the zebra’s mouth so he could crop at the sparse grass along the roadside.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.