Read Online Riverboat Blaze by J. R. Roberts - Free Book Online Page B

“How did you manage to hold onto that gun while you were in the water?”
    “It’s like my arm,” Clint said. “Someone would have had to tear it off.”
    He was sorry, though, that his Colt New Line, his little backup gun, was on the Dolly Madison . Luckily, the boat hadn’t sunk completely, so when a salvage team was sent out to it maybe he could recover the gun. It had saved his life countless times.
    From behind them they heard two people shout. When they turned, they saw three men on the ground.
    “We can’t walk anymore,” one of them said.
    Clint and Jerry put their hands on their hips and looked at them.
    “Soft living,” Jerry said.
    “Definitely.”
    They walked back to where the men were sprawled on the ground.
    “We’re going to go on ahead and try to get help,” Clint said to them. “Rest for a while, and when you feel better, start walking again.”
    “Wait, wait . . .” one of them said, gasping. He was in his thirties and certainly looked as if he should have been able to walk. “You have the only gun.”
    “That’s right.”
    “What if there’s Indians out here?” another asked.
    Clint looked at Jerry, who said, “Easterner, here to see the Wild West from the safety of a riverboat.”
    Clint rolled his eyes.
    “There are no Indians here,” he said. “You’ll be safe.” He hesitated, then added, “However, there are some animals. Predators. But you should be safe as long as you start moving again.”
    He and Jerry started walking.
    “Wait!” someone shouted.
    “Animals?” another one called.
    Jerry said, “That was mean.”
    Clint said, “Yeah.”
     
    To their credit the men tried to follow, but eventually Clint and Jerry outdistanced them.
    “You know,” Jerry said, “I’ve been thinking.”
    “About what?”
    “I studied the route when we booked passage on the boat,” he said. “I’m an engineer.”
    “What did you think of the boat?” Clint asked.
    “In theory, it was a fascinating undertaking. But it didn’t seem practical to me.”
    “Too heavy?” Clint asked.
    “Too big and too heavy. I can’t imagine the captain didn’t have trouble trying to maneuver all the twists and turns of the river. Also, the day of the riverboat is gone. It wasn’t a sound investment for anyone.”
    “That’s Dean Dillon’s specialty,” Clint said. “Convincing people with money to invest in something that’s not a sound investment.”
    “I see. You know him?”
    “We’re friends,” Clint said, “sort of. What did you mean when you said you studied the route?”
    “Well, by trying to figure the speed of the currents, and the speed that the boat was moving, I’m guessing that we’re probably somewhere around Vicksburg.”
    “That would be helpful,” Clint said. “That’s a big city. We’d be able to get all the help we need, and someone to salvage the boat.”
    “I’m guessing, mind you,” Jerry said.
    “I think your guess is pretty damn good, Jerry.”
    “What makes you say that?”
    Clint stopped walking and pointed. “That sign.”
    Jerry looked at the signpost and nodded. It said: “VICKSBURG, 3 miles.”

TWENTY-FOUR
    As they entered Vicksburg, Clint wasn’t sure where they should go, so he decided the best thing would be to approach the law. They were attracting attention because of their condition, and Clint stopped one man and asked directions to the sheriff’s office.
    “Ain’t got no sheriff,” the man said, “but we got us a police station.”
    “That’ll do,” Clint said.
    They followed the man’s directions and found the station. They entered, and Clint asked for the chief of police. A portly man in his fifties said he was Chief Radcliffe. Clint and Jerry explained what had happened, and the chief didn’t waste any time. He assured them rescue efforts would be mounted within the hour. He sent several of his men out to make arrangements.
    “And go over to Anchor Line,” he told one of the men. “We’re gonna need their