Westbound by Dusty Richards

Author:Dusty Richards [Richards, Dusty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pinnacle Books
Published: 2022-11-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

“That was all your fault, Harrigan!” Briggs aimed a grubby finger at Mack.

“How do you figure that?” said Mack, pulling in a deep breath and tugging up his trousers.

Ell rested a hand on his arm. “Leave him be, Mack. He’s just drunk.” Her voice was low, but Briggs heard her.

He narrowed his eyes and half smiled. “I ain’t drunk, neither, woman! But I aim to get that way. All you fools would be a whole lot better off”—he waved the bottle in a wide arc to take in the haggard folks from his wagon train—“if you was to tuck in on a bottle now and again. Helps nub the edge of this journey. Never met such a batch of sour cases in all my days.” He shook his head and knocked back another hearty swig.

Steamed, Mack strode forward. “I said . . . how do you figure this was my fault?”

“That is as plain as the hat on my head!”

Mack did not bother to point out that Briggs had lost his hat during the prairie fire.

“I told you before you all thought we should stop. That those Indians only wanted a little tribute. Mooch something off us as if they owned the damn land, and then they’d get along and stop pestering us. But you had to go and call their bluff. Forced them into looking all mannish. Soon as we stopped, what happened?”

There was not much of an argument there. Even Mack had to admit Briggs had a small point. Damn small.

Was it possible the Indians would have just let them pass in peace?

Mack shook his head. No. No way. He recalled how they were so savage about the attack. How they wanted nothing more than to pillage. As it was, they made off with some goods. “If that’s the case . . .” said Mack, half addressing the others, too, in order to prove his point without the rest of them turning against him and siding even deeper with Briggs. “Why did they take such glee in attacking us? They stole food and whatever else they could grab. Heck, they were desperate enough to mix it up with folks who they knew had weapons superior to theirs. Why?” He looked around at his fellow travelers, a more beaten-down group he’d not seen in a long time.

“Ask anyone here, Briggs, and they will tell you those men were unafraid, and they were hungry. They didn’t want tribute. They wanted food, money, anything they could grab. Most of all, they wanted to do harm.”

Briggs regarded Mack a moment longer, then shaking his head he turned away and mumbled something to Red Dove and raised the bottle to his lips once again.

Mack wondered how many more bottles of whiskey the man had stashed in that wagon. They had to be well cushioned in straw to withstand the daylong jarring and pounding the trail west offered. Mostly, though, Mack didn’t care a whit about the man or his stash of booze.

He shook his head and turned back to getting ready to hunt meat for the group.

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