Read Online Blood at Bear Lake by Gary Franklin - Free Book Online

There’s some other shit I want t’ get, too.”
    â€œDo it in a hurry, Joe. I want you away from here before the sun sets behind that mountain yonder.”
    â€œAn’ if I’m not?”
    â€œThere might well be bloodshed, Joe.”
    â€œYou know as well as I do, Tolbert, that if there’s more blood spilled over this matter, I’ll do my level best t’ see that it ain’t mine. An’ if I do say so, I’m pretty good at killing.”
    â€œAnd raising hair afterward. Yes, I know that.”
    â€œI’ll leave quick as I’m done making my purchases, Tolbert. You have my word on it.”
    â€œAll right, I . . . I’m sorry, Joe. Real sorry.”
    Joe offered his hand, and Marshal Tolbert Wilcox accepted it. “Good-bye, Joe. Good luck.”

19
    JOE TOOK A step backward and grunted as he surveyed the pile of goods on the store counter. “Add a quarter pound o’ horseshoe nails and that should do me when it comes to supplies, but there’s some more items I’ll be wanting, too. Is that a Hudson’s Bay blanket I see up there?”
    â€œY-yes, sir.” The clerk kept looking at Joe as if he expected the former mountain man to scalp him like he had those young men.
    â€œI’ll have the blanket, then. And a Henry rifle. I lost the one I used to have and I favor them. Reckon I’d like another.”
    â€œA Henry? Oh, my. That is one of those newfangled repeaters, isn’t it? I’ve heard about those but never saw one. Sorry, but I don’t have a Henry to sell you. I do have a pair of Spencer carbines you could choose from.” The man shrugged. “Ever since the war back East . . . The army issues a good many of these Spencers, and after a battle people come along and scavenge up all the lost and fallen weapons. The muskets are popular because they hit so hard. On the other hand, there’s lots of them available. You can buy a decent musket for half a dollar. A Spencer in good shape is ten dollars. Lord knows what one of those Henrys would cost.”
    â€œYou got ammunition for the Spencer?”
    â€œYes, sir. It’s fairly common.”
    â€œLet me see what you have.”
    The clerk laid two of the stubby little carbines on the counter, then picked up one of them and held it muzzle-downward. “You see this thing in the butt plate? Well, you turn it . . . like so . . . and pull it out . . . like this. This tube has a spring in it. You just drop the cartridges, up to seven at a time, into here, then push the tube in behind.” He closed the loading gate and upended the Spencer.
    â€œThe cartridges feed from underneath. You work the trigger guard like you would use the lever on a Henry. Down, then up again. And your cartridge is loaded.”
    â€œWhat about the hammer? When you moved that lever, nothing happened to cock the hammer.”
    â€œYou have to cock the hammer yourself.”
    â€œMy Henry carried more cartridges.”
    â€œTrue.” The man smiled. “But I don’t have a Henry to sell you. I do have these Spencers. And the Spencer cartridge is fifty-six caliber. Your Henry was, what, forty-something?”
    Joe nodded. “Forty-four.”
    â€œDo you want the Spencer?”
    â€œYeah, I’ll take one of ’em.” Joe picked up the one nearer him—the little gun was surprisingly heavy—and examined it closely, then did the same with the other. He weighed them for a moment, one in each hand, as if considering buying them by the pound, then firmly said, “This one.” He laid the other back on the counter.
    â€œYou will want ammunition, of course.”
    â€œYeah. Couple hundred rounds should do.”
    â€œTwo hundred rounds? Gracious.” The clerk chuckled. “Are you going to war that you need all that?”
    â€œCould damn well be that I will, not that it’s anything to you,” Joe snapped.
    â€œOh, I . . .