Read Online Frame Angel! (A Frank Angel Western) #7 by Frederick H. Christian - Free Book Online

more
than take off a couple of layers of skin. Fool for luck, he told
himself. If that bullet had gone an inch to the right, he’d be
nursing a shattered left arm, about as much use in the game he was
planning to play as a wooden-legged clown. If it had gone six
inches to the right . . .
    Well, no use thinking about that, he told
himself as he reined his horse around. They were traversing a
rising bluff that crested and sloped away down to Carrizozo Creek.
There was enough water for them to ride in it for a while, and
Angel headed down, signaling Briggs to follow.
    ‘ Where
we headin’?’ Briggs shouted.
    ‘ Further
downstream there’s a ford,’ Angel told him. ‘The old Santa Fe Trail
crosses this crick.’
    ‘ The
Cimarron cutoff?’
    ‘ That’s
right. We can follow the trail right on over to Las
Vegas.’
    ‘ What’s
in Las Vegas?’
    ‘ Two
things,’ Angel told him, as they moved the horses at a walk down to
the edge of the creek. ‘One, a lot o’ people who don’t know who we
are, an’ what’s more, don’t care. Two, a telegraph
office.’
    ‘ Telegraph office?’ Briggs frowned. ‘What the hell you need
a telegraph office for?’
    ‘ Let my
people know it all went well,’ Angel said. ‘An’ where I’m headin’
next. They’ll maybe want me … available.’
    Briggs nodded. He was very conscious of the
fact that he had allied himself with a professional killer, and one
who, if the evidence of the last few hours was anything to go by,
had pretty powerful connections.
    ‘ Where
would you be headin’ next?’ he asked cautiously.
    ‘ Why,
Briggs, that’s entirely up to you,’ Angel said, with a wide grin.
‘You tell me where that money you’re gonna pay me for springin’ you
is, an ‘we’ll go fetch it. You pay me my seventy-five hundred, an’
from there on in, you’re on your own. Right?’
    ‘ Well,’
Briggs hesitated.
    ‘ Now
Briggs,’ Angel said, very gently. ‘You wouldn’t go back on our
deal, would you?’
    ‘ Hell,
no, Angel,’ Briggs said. ‘It’s … well, it’s a bit more complicated
than that.’
    ‘ It
better not be too complicated, man,’ Angel said, just the faint
edge of warning anger making itself heard in his voice. Briggs
caught the tone and held up a hand.
    ‘ No,’ he
said. ‘I told you, though. There’s others involved?’
    ‘ You can
tell me all about it later, when we make camp,’ Angel told him.
‘For now, let’s concentrate on puttin’ some miles between us an’
that stinkin’ prison!’
    ‘ You
figger they’ll put a posse out after us, Angel?’
    ‘ Ain’t
figgerin’ nothin’,’ Angel answered. ‘Nor hangin’ around waitin’ to
find out. Let’s go, Briggs!’
    He kicked his horse into a canter and
splashed down into Carrizozo Creek.
     
    ‘ There
was three of us,’ Briggs began.
    ‘ You
told me that,’ Angel replied.
    They had made a camp on the
warm, southern side of a long sloping draw that ran slanting south-west toward
the Canadian River. There was jerky and a flat bottle of whiskey in
one of the alforjas slung behind the saddle and two cans of beans in the other.
It wasn’t Parisian cooking, but after the prison food it tasted
like the purest nectar. Angel let Briggs drink most of the whiskey,
contenting himself with a good slug to keep out the chill of the
night. They foraged for enough wood to make a small fire in a
sandpit, Apache style.
    When the food was gone, Angel
leaned back and invited Briggs to tell him the whole story. ‘Who told you about
the shipment?’ he asked.
    ‘ Uh …
listen, Angel, how’d you know about that?’ Briggs asked, peering at
him suspiciously in the fire-light.
    ‘ Shit,
Briggs,’ Angel said. ‘You ain’t the type’d know things like that.
I’m figurin’ your sidekicks didn’t either.’
    ‘ No,
they didn’t,’ Briggs muttered. ‘You’re right. Pete an’ Jamesie,
they’re like me. Y’know – hired hands. He wanted good men who knew
the country.’
    ‘