West of the Tularosa by L'Amour Louis

Author:L'Amour, Louis [L'Amour, Louis]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Westerns, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9781428508965
Publisher: Dorchester Publishing
Published: 2010-06-29T07:00:00+00:00

Steve Mehan opened his eyes suddenly, with the bright sunlight in his face. He glanced at his watch. It was noon.

Lunging to his feet, he pulled on his boots, which somebody had removed without awakening him, and reached for his coat. The heavy-set red-haired stage tender walked in and glanced at him.

“See you’ve got Joe Chalmers’s hoss,” he remarked, his thumbs in his belt. “How come?”

Steve looked up. “Chasing a thief. He let me have it.”

“I know Chalmers. He wouldn’t let Moses have this hoss to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. Not him. You’ve got some explainin’ to do, stranger.”

“I said he loaned me the horse,” Steve said grimly. “I’m leaving him with you and I want to buy another to go on with. What have you got?”

Red was dubious. “Don’t reckon I should sell you one. Looks mighty funny to me, you havin’ Joe’s hoss. Is Joe all right?”

“Well,” Steve said wearily, “he was just collecting a pot levied by three treys when I talked to him, so I reckon he’ll make out.”

Red chuckled. “He’s a poker-playin’ man, that one. Good man, too.” He hesitated, and then shrugged. “All right. There’s a blaze-faced black in the stable you can have for fifty dollars. Good horse, too. Better eat somethin’.”

He put food on the table, and Steve ate too rapidly. He gulped some coffee, and then Red came out with a pint of whiskey.

“Stick this in your pocket, stranger. Might come in handy.”

“Thanks.” Mehan wiped his mouth and got to his feet. He felt better, and he walked to the door.

“You ain’t got a rifle?” Red was frankly incredulous. “The Modocs will get you shore.”

“Haven’t seen hide nor hair of one yet,” Steve said, smiling. “I’m beginning to think they’ve all gone East for the winter.”

“Don’t you think it.” Red slipped a bridle on the black while Steve cinched up the saddle. “They are out, and things up Oregon way are bad off. They shore raised ructions up around Grave Creek, and all the country around the Klamath and the Rogue is harassed by ’em.”

Somewhere out at sea the steamer would be plowing over the gray sea toward Astoria and the mouth of the Columbia. The trip from there up to the Willamette and Portland would not take long.

The black left town at a fast lope and held it. The horse was good, no question about it. Beyond Callahan’s, Steve hit the old Applegate wagon trail and found the going somewhat better and pushed on. Just seventy hours out from Knights Landing he rode into Yreka.

After a quick meal, a drink, and a fresh horse, he mounted and headed out of town for the Oregon line. He rode through Humbug City and Hawkinsville without a stop and followed a winding trail up the gorge of the Shasta.

Once, after climbing the long slope north of the Klamath, he glimpsed a party of Indians some distance away. They sighted him, for they turned their horses his way, but he rode on,

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