Read Online .45-Caliber Firebrand by Peter Brandvold - Free Book Online

as they approached Kuttner and the other mounted waddies.
    â€œTrouble, Boss!” one of the newcomers exclaimed, sliding out of his saddle while his horse skidded to a dust-lifting halt and one of the other horses whinnied angrily behind him. The man scrambled around to one of the other men, who crouched low in his saddle, one hand clamped around the arrow protruding from the side of his neck, just behind his ear. “Blackie took an arrow around Wolf Head Canyon!”
    Kuttner stood statue-still, fists on his hips, feet spread. His cigar glowed in his right hand.
    â€œHe said there was five of ’em, Boss,” one of the other newcomers said, holding the reins of his jittery mount up close to his chest. “Ambushed him at the very bottom of the canyon. Lucky he was on old Tom, or he never woulda made it outta there with his hair!”
    â€œGet him into the bunkhouse,” Kuttner said, jerking his head toward the lighted windows behind him. “Have Riker tend him. Any of you other boys see anything?”
    â€œJust sign,” said a bulky man in a blanket coat, his collar drawn up to his ears. “And what the magpies left of three more dead cows. But I don’t like it, Mr. Kuttner.” The man cursed his leaping horse, and when the horse settled some, the man returned his bright-eyed gaze to Kuttner once more. “I got a bad sense o’ things. Lots of tracks criss crossin’ the range, every which way. Movin’ in closer to the headquarters. You know that big cottonwood tree on that saddleback butte by the Three-Fork range? There was a Ute arrow stickin’ out of it. Just the arrow. Nothin’ else. They’re gettin’ set for something—I’ll guaran-damn-tee you that!”
    â€œYou don’t know that, Bill,” Kuttner said calmly, just loudly enough for Cuno to hear on the other side of the yard. “Might be they’re just tryin’ to make us jumpy.”
    â€œThey done it,” Bill said. “Yessir, Mr. Kuttner, I don’t mind tellin’ you—I’m damn jumpy!”
    The first rider had eased the wounded man out of his saddle, and as they moved off toward the bunkhouse together, Kuttner tapped ashes from his stogie. “Put your horses up and get some grub, Bill. You, too, Reno. I’ll be up at the house. Send someone to fill me in on Blackie’s condition after Riker has checked him out.”
    When Bill and Reno had led their own and the other two horses off to the stables, Kuttner talked to the four fresh riders for another half minute, then sent them galloping out of the ranch yard. Cuno glanced at Serenity and Snowberger standing beside him. Serenity cocked a brow. Snowberger just looked dark.
    Kuttner strode up to them puffing his stogie. He, too, looked dark as he regarded the ground as though he’d dropped a quarter.
    â€œLooks like you got your hands full out here, Kuttner.” Cuno jerked his head toward the men just now thundering across the wooden bridge and heading off into the moonlit flats beyond. “Scout riders?”
    Kuttner nodded. “Try to keep four out at all times after sunset.”
    Cuno introduced Serenity and Snowberger to Kuttner, and after a stiff shaking of hands, the four headed up toward the house.
    â€œHow many men do you have on the place, Kuttner?” the graybeard asked.
    â€œNearly twenty. Enough to hold off Leaping Wolf’s band. He don’t have no more than fifteen or twenty himself, and, from what my scouts tell me, only a handful of rifles.”
    â€œWell, you got about twenty brand-new Winchesters, now, don’t you, Kuttner?” Snowberger growled as they headed up the house’s broad porch steps.
    â€œThat we do,” the foreman said, opening the front door and waving the others in ahead of him. A frosty smile shone in his eyes. He had a voice like sandpaper raked across a steel file. “All the way back and left, gentlemen.