Read Online Dutchmans Flat (Ss) (1986) by Louis L'amour - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Louis L'amour
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belonging to Childe and band aged his leg.
Exhausted, he fell asleep-when, he never recalled. Only hours later he awakened suddenly to find sunlight streaming through the door into the front room. His leg was stiff and sore, and when he moved, it throbbed with pain. Using a cane he found hanging in the room, he pulled himself up and staggered to the door.
The curtains in the front room were up and sunlight streamed in. The rain seemed to be gone. From where he stood he could see into the street, and almost the first person he saw was Van Hardin. He was standing in front of the Longhorn talking to Soderman and the mustached man Tack had first seen at his own ranch.
The sight reminded him, and Tack hunted around for a gun. He found a pair of beautifully matched Colts, silver plated and ivory handled. He strapped them on with their ornate belt and holsters. Then, standing in a corner, he found a riot gun and a Henry rifle.
He checked the loads in all the guns, found several boxes of ammunition for each of them, and emptied a box of .45s into the pockets of a pair of Childe's pants he pulled on. Then he put a double handful of shotgun shells into the pockets of a leather jacket he found.
He sat down then, for he was weak and trembling.
His time was short. Sooner or later someone would come to this room. Either someone would think of it, or someone would come to claim the room for himself. Red Furness had no idea he was there, so would probably not hesitate to let anyone come up.
He locked the door, and then dug around and found a stale loaf of bread and some cheese. Then he lay down to rest. His leg was throbbing with pain, and he knew it needed care, and badly.
When he awakened, he studied the street from a vantage point well inside the room and to one side of the window.
Several knots of men were standing around talking, more men than should have been in town at that hour. He recognized one or two of them as being old-timers around.
Twice he saw Olney ride by, and the sheriff was carrying a riot gun.
Starr and the mustached man were loafing in front of the Longhorn, and two other men Tack recognized as coming from the old London ranch were there.
He ate some more bread and cheese. He was just finishing his sandwich when a buckboard turned into the street, and his heart jumped when he saw Betty London was driving.
Beside her in the seat was her father, Bill, worn and old, his hair white now, but he was wearing a gun!
Something was stirring down below. It began to look as if the lid was about to blow off. Yet Tack had no idea of his own status. He was an escaped prisoner and, as such, could be shot on sight legally by Olney or Starr, who seemed to be a deputy. From the wary attitude of the Van Hardin men he knew that they were disturbed by their lack of knowledge of him.
Yet the day passed without incident, and finally he returned to the bunk and lay down after checking his guns once more. The time for the payoff was near, he knew.
It could come at any moment. He was lying there thinking about that and looking up at the rough plank ceiling when he heard steps on the stairs.
He arose so suddenly that a twinge of pain shot through the weight that had become his leg. The steps were on the front stairs, not the back. A quick glance from the window told him it was Betty London.
What did she want here?
Her hand fell on the knob and it turned. He eased off the bed and turned the key in the lock. She hesitated just an instant and then stepped in. When their eyes met, hers went wide, and her face went white to the lips.
"You!" she gasped. "Oh, Tack! What have you been doing! Where have you been!"
She started toward him, but he backed up and sat down on the bed. "Wait. Do they know I'm up here?" he demanded harshly.
"No, Tack. I came up to see if some papers were here, some papers I gave to Anson Childe before he was-murdered."
"Yuh think I did that?" he demanded.
"No, of course not!" Her eyes held a question. "Tack,
Exhausted, he fell asleep-when, he never recalled. Only hours later he awakened suddenly to find sunlight streaming through the door into the front room. His leg was stiff and sore, and when he moved, it throbbed with pain. Using a cane he found hanging in the room, he pulled himself up and staggered to the door.
The curtains in the front room were up and sunlight streamed in. The rain seemed to be gone. From where he stood he could see into the street, and almost the first person he saw was Van Hardin. He was standing in front of the Longhorn talking to Soderman and the mustached man Tack had first seen at his own ranch.
The sight reminded him, and Tack hunted around for a gun. He found a pair of beautifully matched Colts, silver plated and ivory handled. He strapped them on with their ornate belt and holsters. Then, standing in a corner, he found a riot gun and a Henry rifle.
He checked the loads in all the guns, found several boxes of ammunition for each of them, and emptied a box of .45s into the pockets of a pair of Childe's pants he pulled on. Then he put a double handful of shotgun shells into the pockets of a leather jacket he found.
He sat down then, for he was weak and trembling.
His time was short. Sooner or later someone would come to this room. Either someone would think of it, or someone would come to claim the room for himself. Red Furness had no idea he was there, so would probably not hesitate to let anyone come up.
He locked the door, and then dug around and found a stale loaf of bread and some cheese. Then he lay down to rest. His leg was throbbing with pain, and he knew it needed care, and badly.
When he awakened, he studied the street from a vantage point well inside the room and to one side of the window.
Several knots of men were standing around talking, more men than should have been in town at that hour. He recognized one or two of them as being old-timers around.
Twice he saw Olney ride by, and the sheriff was carrying a riot gun.
Starr and the mustached man were loafing in front of the Longhorn, and two other men Tack recognized as coming from the old London ranch were there.
He ate some more bread and cheese. He was just finishing his sandwich when a buckboard turned into the street, and his heart jumped when he saw Betty London was driving.
Beside her in the seat was her father, Bill, worn and old, his hair white now, but he was wearing a gun!
Something was stirring down below. It began to look as if the lid was about to blow off. Yet Tack had no idea of his own status. He was an escaped prisoner and, as such, could be shot on sight legally by Olney or Starr, who seemed to be a deputy. From the wary attitude of the Van Hardin men he knew that they were disturbed by their lack of knowledge of him.
Yet the day passed without incident, and finally he returned to the bunk and lay down after checking his guns once more. The time for the payoff was near, he knew.
It could come at any moment. He was lying there thinking about that and looking up at the rough plank ceiling when he heard steps on the stairs.
He arose so suddenly that a twinge of pain shot through the weight that had become his leg. The steps were on the front stairs, not the back. A quick glance from the window told him it was Betty London.
What did she want here?
Her hand fell on the knob and it turned. He eased off the bed and turned the key in the lock. She hesitated just an instant and then stepped in. When their eyes met, hers went wide, and her face went white to the lips.
"You!" she gasped. "Oh, Tack! What have you been doing! Where have you been!"
She started toward him, but he backed up and sat down on the bed. "Wait. Do they know I'm up here?" he demanded harshly.
"No, Tack. I came up to see if some papers were here, some papers I gave to Anson Childe before he was-murdered."
"Yuh think I did that?" he demanded.
"No, of course not!" Her eyes held a question. "Tack,
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