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Authors: William W. Johnstone
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thought.
A moment later, he found out as one man popped up and sprayed lead across the area where Pearlie was hidden. He got off only one shot in return before he hit the dirt and hugged the ground for dear life as slugs tore through the brush around him, rattling the branches.
He heard running footsteps and knew the other outlaw was trying to flank him. The varmint was going to be successful. Pearlie couldnât risk raising his head to take aim at him.
If they caught him in a crossfire, he wasnât going to stand a chance.
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Cal had his rifle ready as he ran through the trees. Shooting came from both directions, in front of him and behind him. He didnât like being in the middle. He wanted to be in one fight or the other.
He knew Pearlie was right, though. Protecting Miss Sally was always the most important thing, so he continued heading in that direction.
The shooting ahead of him tapered off, just as the other battle seemed to heat up. He heard shot after shot and knew Pearlie might be in bad trouble, but he couldnât turn back to help his friend. He had to do what the foreman had told him.
A shape suddenly burst out of the brush in front of him. Cal didnât have time to stop. He and the stranger ran smack-dab into each other with stunning force.
The collision made them bounce off each other and sprawl on the ground. Cal lost his grip on the rifle and it slid away from him as he landed hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs.
Gasping for air, he rolled and twisted and reached for the pistol on his hip. He had just closed his hand around it when the other man loomed above him and brought a broken branch crashing down on his shoulder. Calâs right arm went numb.
His attacker raised the branch to strike again.
Cal saw that the man held the branch in his left hand. He was wounded. His right sleeve was bloody from the elbow down, but despite the shock and loss of blood, he still had some fight in him. Lines of rage contorted his face, giving him the strength to battle on.
Cal jerked his head aside as the makeshift club came down. As it slammed into the ground, he felt the branch brush his ear. That glancing blow was enough to make him yelp, but at least it didnât crush his skull.
He jerked his right leg up and kicked the man in the belly. The man grunted and flailed out wildly with the branch. It clipped Cal on the head as he tried to get up and he sprawled backwards again.
Evidently deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, especially considering the shape he was in, the man turned and started to stumble away. Cal scrambled up and dived after him, intending to tackle him around the knees.
The way his head was spinning from the last blow caused him to misjudge his leap. He fell short, made a last grab at the fleeing man, and missed again.
The wounded man plunged through the undergrowth and disappeared among the trees.
Still breathing hard, Cal got his hands and knees under him and pushed himself to his feet. His vision was a little blurry, but he spotted his Winchester lying on the ground a few yards away. He scooped it up and then hesitated, faced with the decision of whether to pursue the man he had fought with or check on Miss Sally and Hardy.
That wasnât a very difficult decision. Cal broke into an unsteady run toward the spot where he and Pearlie had left the other two members of their party.
Chapter 14
The crashing in the brush faded as Sally got to her knees. Whoever had been hurrying toward them had stopped or at least slowed down.
She jumped to her feet and levered the carbine again, then stood there and tracked the barrel back and forth across the trees as she searched for a target. She didnât see anything moving.
A groan from Hardy drew her attention. She turned toward the cowboy and saw him struggling to get up. The front of his shirt was dark with blood. She had known he was hit but hadnât realized it was that
A moment later, he found out as one man popped up and sprayed lead across the area where Pearlie was hidden. He got off only one shot in return before he hit the dirt and hugged the ground for dear life as slugs tore through the brush around him, rattling the branches.
He heard running footsteps and knew the other outlaw was trying to flank him. The varmint was going to be successful. Pearlie couldnât risk raising his head to take aim at him.
If they caught him in a crossfire, he wasnât going to stand a chance.
Â
Â
Cal had his rifle ready as he ran through the trees. Shooting came from both directions, in front of him and behind him. He didnât like being in the middle. He wanted to be in one fight or the other.
He knew Pearlie was right, though. Protecting Miss Sally was always the most important thing, so he continued heading in that direction.
The shooting ahead of him tapered off, just as the other battle seemed to heat up. He heard shot after shot and knew Pearlie might be in bad trouble, but he couldnât turn back to help his friend. He had to do what the foreman had told him.
A shape suddenly burst out of the brush in front of him. Cal didnât have time to stop. He and the stranger ran smack-dab into each other with stunning force.
The collision made them bounce off each other and sprawl on the ground. Cal lost his grip on the rifle and it slid away from him as he landed hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs.
Gasping for air, he rolled and twisted and reached for the pistol on his hip. He had just closed his hand around it when the other man loomed above him and brought a broken branch crashing down on his shoulder. Calâs right arm went numb.
His attacker raised the branch to strike again.
Cal saw that the man held the branch in his left hand. He was wounded. His right sleeve was bloody from the elbow down, but despite the shock and loss of blood, he still had some fight in him. Lines of rage contorted his face, giving him the strength to battle on.
Cal jerked his head aside as the makeshift club came down. As it slammed into the ground, he felt the branch brush his ear. That glancing blow was enough to make him yelp, but at least it didnât crush his skull.
He jerked his right leg up and kicked the man in the belly. The man grunted and flailed out wildly with the branch. It clipped Cal on the head as he tried to get up and he sprawled backwards again.
Evidently deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, especially considering the shape he was in, the man turned and started to stumble away. Cal scrambled up and dived after him, intending to tackle him around the knees.
The way his head was spinning from the last blow caused him to misjudge his leap. He fell short, made a last grab at the fleeing man, and missed again.
The wounded man plunged through the undergrowth and disappeared among the trees.
Still breathing hard, Cal got his hands and knees under him and pushed himself to his feet. His vision was a little blurry, but he spotted his Winchester lying on the ground a few yards away. He scooped it up and then hesitated, faced with the decision of whether to pursue the man he had fought with or check on Miss Sally and Hardy.
That wasnât a very difficult decision. Cal broke into an unsteady run toward the spot where he and Pearlie had left the other two members of their party.
Chapter 14
The crashing in the brush faded as Sally got to her knees. Whoever had been hurrying toward them had stopped or at least slowed down.
She jumped to her feet and levered the carbine again, then stood there and tracked the barrel back and forth across the trees as she searched for a target. She didnât see anything moving.
A groan from Hardy drew her attention. She turned toward the cowboy and saw him struggling to get up. The front of his shirt was dark with blood. She had known he was hit but hadnât realized it was that
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