Read Online Reilly's Luck (1970) by Louis L'amour - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Louis L'amour
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the whip, and gave a tremendous jerk.
Prince Pavel was jerked off balance, the whip flying from his hand as he went to his knees on the turf.
One of the men lunged toward Reilly, but Val promptly tripped him. Will reversed the whip and snapped it viciously at Pavel. The tip of the whip snapped at the young Russian, ripping his shirt and starting blood from his shoulder.
Pavel screamed and, moving lightly as a dancer moves, Will Reilly stepped about quickly. The husky man who had begged for the chance at the whip was next, and the lash whipped his shoulders, snapped at his belly, laid open his cheek.
The action had been so swift that the others had been caught off guard. They were not fighting men, as such, just strong bullies hired for a job. Will moved, now a deadly dancer, his whip a darting snake that drew blood wherever it landed. It struck Pavel's cheek, ripping the flesh, and the Prince screamed again, clapping his hands to his face. The lash popped again, and this time the end dug into his forehead.
Suddenly the man who had been the leader of the group, the one who had sat opposite Val in the restaurant, dug a hand into his coat pocket and came up with a pistol.
Will stepped back closer to Val. "Now!" he said, and from under his coat Val took the pistol he had carried for Will, and tossed it to him. Deftly, he caught it with his left hand even as he moved.
The man had leveled his gun to fire, and Will Reilly fired, almost casually. The man rose on his tiptoes, his gun went off into the turf, and he fell forward on his face in the grass.
At the sound of the shot, its report echoing against the mountainsides, there came a silence. It was no longer a few men giving a whipping to a man for a price. It was death.
Prince Pavel was on his knees, blood streaking his face and neck, his shirt soaked with it. He was staring at Will, stunned horror in his eyes. "Don't ... don't kill me!"
The other men were backing away, looking for a chance to run. "You'll pay for this!" one of them shouted. "You will never leave the country alive!"
Will Reilly dropped the whip, and walked over to where his coat lay. He put it on, shifting the gun from hand to hand as he did so.
Only then did he look at Louise, who stood shocked and white, unable to believe her eyes.
"I am sorry, Louise, that this happened in your presence," Will Reilly said. "I am not a man to accept a whipping for any reason--least of all, for loving you."
"You have killed him."
"He would have killed me. He was armed, and he was intending to shoot. I had no choice."
He glanced at Pavel. "Had he challenged me, I would have fought him. Or we might have met together and talked of this. Instead, he chose this method."
"I fight only withgentlemen!" Pavel was on his feet, shaken, but with a show of confidence returning.
"Judging by the company you keep," Reilly said coolly, "you need have no fears."
He turned to Louise. "Will you come with me now? I shall return to my own country."
She seemed to hesitate, and stared at him.
"No!" Pavel shouted. "You can not!" He grasped her arm. "He is a murderer! He will be hunted down and thrown into prison, then executed! You would ruin us all!"
Will Reilly stood quietly, while Val shifted from one foot to the other, anxious to be away. Some of the men were already away through the trees, and it was no more than thirty minutes of fast walking to the edge of the city. And these men would be running.
"Louise?"
"No ... I can not."
One long moment he looked at her. "Goodbye, Louise." He had thrown in his hand, and Val knew it.
"Come, Val." He turned, thrusting the gun into his waistband. He stumbled once, and glancing up, Val saw Will's face was drawn and pale.
Val caught his hand. "We must hurry, Uncle Will. Those men will have almost reached Innsbruck, and people there may have heard the shot."
With Val leading the way, they turned abruptly from the road and went down a path that led across the fields, partly concealed by a
Prince Pavel was jerked off balance, the whip flying from his hand as he went to his knees on the turf.
One of the men lunged toward Reilly, but Val promptly tripped him. Will reversed the whip and snapped it viciously at Pavel. The tip of the whip snapped at the young Russian, ripping his shirt and starting blood from his shoulder.
Pavel screamed and, moving lightly as a dancer moves, Will Reilly stepped about quickly. The husky man who had begged for the chance at the whip was next, and the lash whipped his shoulders, snapped at his belly, laid open his cheek.
The action had been so swift that the others had been caught off guard. They were not fighting men, as such, just strong bullies hired for a job. Will moved, now a deadly dancer, his whip a darting snake that drew blood wherever it landed. It struck Pavel's cheek, ripping the flesh, and the Prince screamed again, clapping his hands to his face. The lash popped again, and this time the end dug into his forehead.
Suddenly the man who had been the leader of the group, the one who had sat opposite Val in the restaurant, dug a hand into his coat pocket and came up with a pistol.
Will stepped back closer to Val. "Now!" he said, and from under his coat Val took the pistol he had carried for Will, and tossed it to him. Deftly, he caught it with his left hand even as he moved.
The man had leveled his gun to fire, and Will Reilly fired, almost casually. The man rose on his tiptoes, his gun went off into the turf, and he fell forward on his face in the grass.
At the sound of the shot, its report echoing against the mountainsides, there came a silence. It was no longer a few men giving a whipping to a man for a price. It was death.
Prince Pavel was on his knees, blood streaking his face and neck, his shirt soaked with it. He was staring at Will, stunned horror in his eyes. "Don't ... don't kill me!"
The other men were backing away, looking for a chance to run. "You'll pay for this!" one of them shouted. "You will never leave the country alive!"
Will Reilly dropped the whip, and walked over to where his coat lay. He put it on, shifting the gun from hand to hand as he did so.
Only then did he look at Louise, who stood shocked and white, unable to believe her eyes.
"I am sorry, Louise, that this happened in your presence," Will Reilly said. "I am not a man to accept a whipping for any reason--least of all, for loving you."
"You have killed him."
"He would have killed me. He was armed, and he was intending to shoot. I had no choice."
He glanced at Pavel. "Had he challenged me, I would have fought him. Or we might have met together and talked of this. Instead, he chose this method."
"I fight only withgentlemen!" Pavel was on his feet, shaken, but with a show of confidence returning.
"Judging by the company you keep," Reilly said coolly, "you need have no fears."
He turned to Louise. "Will you come with me now? I shall return to my own country."
She seemed to hesitate, and stared at him.
"No!" Pavel shouted. "You can not!" He grasped her arm. "He is a murderer! He will be hunted down and thrown into prison, then executed! You would ruin us all!"
Will Reilly stood quietly, while Val shifted from one foot to the other, anxious to be away. Some of the men were already away through the trees, and it was no more than thirty minutes of fast walking to the edge of the city. And these men would be running.
"Louise?"
"No ... I can not."
One long moment he looked at her. "Goodbye, Louise." He had thrown in his hand, and Val knew it.
"Come, Val." He turned, thrusting the gun into his waistband. He stumbled once, and glancing up, Val saw Will's face was drawn and pale.
Val caught his hand. "We must hurry, Uncle Will. Those men will have almost reached Innsbruck, and people there may have heard the shot."
With Val leading the way, they turned abruptly from the road and went down a path that led across the fields, partly concealed by a
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