Read Online Bowdrie's Law (Ss) (1983) by Louis L'amour - Free Book Online
Authors: Louis L'amour
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If Bowdrie knew about Latham, how much more did he know? "Get up!" Bowdrie said.
"Get up an' get out! You've got until four this afternoon to talk. After that you hang with the rest of He was pushing his luck, he knew, but he had a feeling that Hardy Young was genuinely frightened. If the man would talk, it would save time, much time. Had the snake been Hardy's own idea? Or had somebody else done it or put Hardy up to doing it?
By riding Young, he might force them into a revealing move. When such men moved suddenly, they often made mistakes. Obviously somebody was worried or they would not have tried to get him killed by a rattler. Undoubtedly they believed he knew more than he did, which had been nothing.
Following a hurried breakfast, Bowdrie saddled the roan and rode out of town. His theory of the previous day, that the outlaws were still in Kimble, was still valid.
Yet it would be impossible for a group of men to remain hidden for long in such a small town. Certainly there could not have been sufficient food for more than a few days, and he suspected they had already been in town longer than planned.
Drawing rein under some trees on the slope near the edge of town, Bowdrie sat his saddle, studying the place. His view was a good one, and as he studied the layout his eyes turned again and again to a large ranch house almost hidden in a grove of cottonwoods.
A huge barn, several corrals, various outbuildings. The barn backed up to an arroyo that wound through the low hills on the edge of town.
It was very hot now and the air was breathless. Chick mopped his face and neck. Squinting against the glare, he used the trees as a screen and rode down, crossed the trail, and entered the arroyo. He found no tracks and scowled with disappointment. Yet he knew no track could long endure in this sand.
He was riding along immersed in thought, and the sharp jerk at his shoulder almost failed to register until he heard the metallic slam of the gunshot.
A frail tendril of smoke lifted from a rocky knoll, and touching a spur to the roan's ribs, Bowdrie sent him up out of the arroyo and on a dead run for the knoll itself.
Another rifle shot rang out but the bullet missed, and the roan went charging up the knoll. Bowdrie's gun was in his hand, but the knoll was empty!
Amazed and angry, he took a quick swing around among the rocks. If the shot had come from here, the marksman was gone.
Perplexed, he looked all around. The grass was disturbed but he found no distinguishable tracks. Horses and cattle had been on the knoll, and there was a confusion of tracks, scratches, and scuffed earth.
His shoulder was smarting by the time he reached town. The shot had merely split the fabric of his shirt and scraped the skin.
He swung down at the livery stable and glanced over at the two or three loafers.
"Anybody want to make a half-dollar caring for a horse?"
Rip Coker was seated on a box. "How about me? They cleaned me at poker, and a half a dollar would buy me a couple of meals." They walked into the barn, Bowdrie giving instructions.
"Who owns the big house over by the wash?" he asked when they were alone.
"I thought of it, but that's the Bishop place. He's well off, and one of the leading citizens. He and his brother put up money to help build both the church and the school.
John Bishop is the mayor.
"What's his brother do?"
"Red? He ranches down in Mexico. He's never here, and hasn't even been here so far as I know, even though the Bishops sort of regard this as their town, and always contribute to worthy causes."
Bowdrie outlined all that had happened and what little he had learned, adding what Ellen had told him about Latham.
"Sounds like him. From all I hear, that banker looked like a Comanche had worked on him. He was badly used."
Ellen came immediately to his table when Bowdrie seated himself in the restaurant a few minutes later. "Does Sheriff Borrow eat here?" he asked.
"He was in, looking fd" you, perhaps an
If Bowdrie knew about Latham, how much more did he know? "Get up!" Bowdrie said.
"Get up an' get out! You've got until four this afternoon to talk. After that you hang with the rest of He was pushing his luck, he knew, but he had a feeling that Hardy Young was genuinely frightened. If the man would talk, it would save time, much time. Had the snake been Hardy's own idea? Or had somebody else done it or put Hardy up to doing it?
By riding Young, he might force them into a revealing move. When such men moved suddenly, they often made mistakes. Obviously somebody was worried or they would not have tried to get him killed by a rattler. Undoubtedly they believed he knew more than he did, which had been nothing.
Following a hurried breakfast, Bowdrie saddled the roan and rode out of town. His theory of the previous day, that the outlaws were still in Kimble, was still valid.
Yet it would be impossible for a group of men to remain hidden for long in such a small town. Certainly there could not have been sufficient food for more than a few days, and he suspected they had already been in town longer than planned.
Drawing rein under some trees on the slope near the edge of town, Bowdrie sat his saddle, studying the place. His view was a good one, and as he studied the layout his eyes turned again and again to a large ranch house almost hidden in a grove of cottonwoods.
A huge barn, several corrals, various outbuildings. The barn backed up to an arroyo that wound through the low hills on the edge of town.
It was very hot now and the air was breathless. Chick mopped his face and neck. Squinting against the glare, he used the trees as a screen and rode down, crossed the trail, and entered the arroyo. He found no tracks and scowled with disappointment. Yet he knew no track could long endure in this sand.
He was riding along immersed in thought, and the sharp jerk at his shoulder almost failed to register until he heard the metallic slam of the gunshot.
A frail tendril of smoke lifted from a rocky knoll, and touching a spur to the roan's ribs, Bowdrie sent him up out of the arroyo and on a dead run for the knoll itself.
Another rifle shot rang out but the bullet missed, and the roan went charging up the knoll. Bowdrie's gun was in his hand, but the knoll was empty!
Amazed and angry, he took a quick swing around among the rocks. If the shot had come from here, the marksman was gone.
Perplexed, he looked all around. The grass was disturbed but he found no distinguishable tracks. Horses and cattle had been on the knoll, and there was a confusion of tracks, scratches, and scuffed earth.
His shoulder was smarting by the time he reached town. The shot had merely split the fabric of his shirt and scraped the skin.
He swung down at the livery stable and glanced over at the two or three loafers.
"Anybody want to make a half-dollar caring for a horse?"
Rip Coker was seated on a box. "How about me? They cleaned me at poker, and a half a dollar would buy me a couple of meals." They walked into the barn, Bowdrie giving instructions.
"Who owns the big house over by the wash?" he asked when they were alone.
"I thought of it, but that's the Bishop place. He's well off, and one of the leading citizens. He and his brother put up money to help build both the church and the school.
John Bishop is the mayor.
"What's his brother do?"
"Red? He ranches down in Mexico. He's never here, and hasn't even been here so far as I know, even though the Bishops sort of regard this as their town, and always contribute to worthy causes."
Bowdrie outlined all that had happened and what little he had learned, adding what Ellen had told him about Latham.
"Sounds like him. From all I hear, that banker looked like a Comanche had worked on him. He was badly used."
Ellen came immediately to his table when Bowdrie seated himself in the restaurant a few minutes later. "Does Sheriff Borrow eat here?" he asked.
"He was in, looking fd" you, perhaps an
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