Read Online Mobley's Law, A Mobley Meadows Novel by Gerald Lane Summers - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gerald Lane Summers
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nodded and both walked to where the Indian had fallen to his death on the rocks. A strange itch was tingling the back of Mobley’s neck, and it usually meant trouble, but this time he did not interpret it as such, just curiosity. Something was wrong with this whole scene, these strange men so well armed and mounted. He couldn’t make sense of it. He looked down at the dead Indian, and toed him in the ribs.
“This one won’t be difficult to fold in a hole. Looks like every bone in his body is broke.”
Juan did not respond.
Mobley hooked his thumbs in his waist band and looked around. Although good at reading people one on one, he was as poor at figuring the evil motives of others as he was at such games himself. “What do you make of all this, Juan? Fifteen of the nastiest critters the Devil ever created, armed to the teeth, and rich as any ne’er do wells I’ve ever seen.”
Juan hunkered down to examine the man’s clothing and a small leather parfleche tied to his waist. His mind had been honed by years of association with desperate people. He knew there was a simple answer, for these were simple men. “A guess only, but I would say someone paid them to do a job. Gave them good rifles, maybe the horses, too. They made the mistake of coming upon you when you weren’t in the mood to play.”
Juan looked up at Mobley to see him paying rapt attention. “The money division suggests they did not steal it. Indians, or Mexican bandidos for that matter, would have had unequal shares. The strongest would have had the most, the weakest the least. It looks to me like someone, a white man most likely, paid them individually. Another thing, all of the gold pieces have the same date— 1872 —which suggests they were all paid at the same time from the same source. What I can’t understand is why they were this far north. Comancheros usually work way off to the southwest these days.”
Mobley stared at Juan, his respect increased several fold. The man could think. “ Comancheros? Meaning those scum who trade whiskey and guns to the Comanche? Well, that’s interesting. You figure this is money and goods legitimately come by, not stolen?”
“The money, yes. The horses? Possibly provided, but more likely stolen, and I doubt the job they were hired to do was legitimate.”
Mobley nodded. “A conspiracy? But to do what? Surely they didn’t come all the way up here just to harass me. Shucks, even I didn’t know I was going to be out here. I’d planned to take a train straight down to Austin, but got the itch to see some country and exercise Meteor a bit on the way. Are there more of these critters running around, do you think?”
Juan shook his head. “I doubt it. But you cannot tell. This country is full of angry, hungry men. A few months ago down by Laredo, there was a rumor. I didn’t follow it up. Supposedly, a man with a lot of money was trying to raise men for reprisal raids. Some said he worked for the government. Others said he was out to get revenge against the government. No one knew for sure.”
CHAPTER 5
Mobley poked the campfire with a stick. It crackled and jumped pleasingly, flaring bright as rising sparks flew off into the night. The danger of prairie fire was slight this time of year; still, he knew it paid to be careful. Wildfire on the prairie had roasted many a slow footed pioneer and he had no desire to be one of the next. But, the night was chilly and the fire, fueled mostly by small sticks and old buffalo dung, still seemed weak against the cold. Toward morning it would be worse. There was only one sure way to fortify oneself against it.
He extracted a pint bottle of Angus Meadows’s finest Tennessee whiskey from the pack alongside his sleeping roll and settled his back against the saddle.
“This here’s some of the best Tennessee sourmash made, Juan. Would you care for a snort?”
Juan looked up from the skillet he’d been scrubbing. A broad smile spread across his face, causing the
“This one won’t be difficult to fold in a hole. Looks like every bone in his body is broke.”
Juan did not respond.
Mobley hooked his thumbs in his waist band and looked around. Although good at reading people one on one, he was as poor at figuring the evil motives of others as he was at such games himself. “What do you make of all this, Juan? Fifteen of the nastiest critters the Devil ever created, armed to the teeth, and rich as any ne’er do wells I’ve ever seen.”
Juan hunkered down to examine the man’s clothing and a small leather parfleche tied to his waist. His mind had been honed by years of association with desperate people. He knew there was a simple answer, for these were simple men. “A guess only, but I would say someone paid them to do a job. Gave them good rifles, maybe the horses, too. They made the mistake of coming upon you when you weren’t in the mood to play.”
Juan looked up at Mobley to see him paying rapt attention. “The money division suggests they did not steal it. Indians, or Mexican bandidos for that matter, would have had unequal shares. The strongest would have had the most, the weakest the least. It looks to me like someone, a white man most likely, paid them individually. Another thing, all of the gold pieces have the same date— 1872 —which suggests they were all paid at the same time from the same source. What I can’t understand is why they were this far north. Comancheros usually work way off to the southwest these days.”
Mobley stared at Juan, his respect increased several fold. The man could think. “ Comancheros? Meaning those scum who trade whiskey and guns to the Comanche? Well, that’s interesting. You figure this is money and goods legitimately come by, not stolen?”
“The money, yes. The horses? Possibly provided, but more likely stolen, and I doubt the job they were hired to do was legitimate.”
Mobley nodded. “A conspiracy? But to do what? Surely they didn’t come all the way up here just to harass me. Shucks, even I didn’t know I was going to be out here. I’d planned to take a train straight down to Austin, but got the itch to see some country and exercise Meteor a bit on the way. Are there more of these critters running around, do you think?”
Juan shook his head. “I doubt it. But you cannot tell. This country is full of angry, hungry men. A few months ago down by Laredo, there was a rumor. I didn’t follow it up. Supposedly, a man with a lot of money was trying to raise men for reprisal raids. Some said he worked for the government. Others said he was out to get revenge against the government. No one knew for sure.”
CHAPTER 5
Mobley poked the campfire with a stick. It crackled and jumped pleasingly, flaring bright as rising sparks flew off into the night. The danger of prairie fire was slight this time of year; still, he knew it paid to be careful. Wildfire on the prairie had roasted many a slow footed pioneer and he had no desire to be one of the next. But, the night was chilly and the fire, fueled mostly by small sticks and old buffalo dung, still seemed weak against the cold. Toward morning it would be worse. There was only one sure way to fortify oneself against it.
He extracted a pint bottle of Angus Meadows’s finest Tennessee whiskey from the pack alongside his sleeping roll and settled his back against the saddle.
“This here’s some of the best Tennessee sourmash made, Juan. Would you care for a snort?”
Juan looked up from the skillet he’d been scrubbing. A broad smile spread across his face, causing the
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