Read Online Slaughter's way by John Thomas Edson - Free Book Online
Authors: John Thomas Edson
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on his way in. Which same left the bam to the left beyond Texas John. Now there was a place which had real possibilities. Happen a man slipped out of the rear door of the house, he could stay hidden dear imtil he reached the back of the bam. Even if the bam had no rear door, there would be windows or, judging from the general condition of the building, loose planks a man might pull aside so as to gain admittance.
Even as he reached his decision. Trace saw a flicker of something red show through the crack betw^een two of the bam side's sun-warped planks. Only for an instant was the color there, it moved from left to right across the two-inch-wide gap and the bam's door stood to the light of the space.
While he did not set himself up as one of the world's great thinkers, Washita Trace figiued he could add one and one to bring up the right answer. Point one being that the color in the bam had been a bright red, was not a quick-growing flower, but part of a man's shirt. Adding point one to point two, which was that Zeke Taggert—
who had been wearing a bright red shirt when they saw him earlier—did not stand alongside his brothers. Trace made the answer come up to a count of three and a deduction that he had located Zeke's presence.
"We ain't in the mood for funning. Slaughter," Scar warned, speaking while Trace made his study of the situation.
"Nor am I,'' Slaughter replied, "when somebody steals from me."
"Are you calling me a thief?" Scar snarled, wishing he had arranged a signal for Zeke to give when he reached the door of the bam and was ready to cut in.
"That's just what I'm saying—^"
"The bam, John!" Trace yelled. "Down!"
On the last word, both pitched sideways from their saddles. Slaughter did not go over on the side away from the bam, which he might have been expected to do. Instead he left his saddle and fell so he faced the barn's door and as he fell, he drew his Colt.
Springing from the bam, Zeke lined his rifle at where he had seen the two men as he passed the sim-warped planks which betrayed his presence to Trace. Only he aimed in the expectation of shooting a man seated on a horse. Even as he tried to correct his mistake, he saw flame rip from the barrel of Slaughter's Colt and felt the sledgehammer blow of a bullet tearing into him. The gangling thief went backwards into the side of the bam. Even hit badly, he tried to line his rifle at the man who shot him. Slaughter had been a lawman, and he acted as such. A second shot thundered from his Colt, this time he aimed it at Zeke's head. The Winchester cracked an instant after Slaughter fired, but a dead hand squeezed its trigger and its bullet flew harmlessly off into the scrub. Ready to shoot again if his man kept his feet and retained his hold on die gun. Slaughter saw Zeke let the rifle fall and shde down the wall. Only then did the rancher take time out to help deal with the other brothers.
Scar and Bill both grabbed at their guns an instant after Trace's yell started the J.S. men moving. The brothers were taken by surprise by the speed with which
Slaughter and Trace reacted, and delayed too long in starting to make their moves.
For all his bulk and slow wits, Bill could move with surprising speed at such times, and he acted fast enough to make him the more dangerous of the remaining brothers. Yet he was too slow. Even as Bill clawed out his gun, Washita Trace's long-barreled Colt bellowed. Trace shot to kill and for an instant kill, the only way he dared shoot imder the drcumstances. His Colt's bullet struck under Bill's outthrust jaw, ripped up through the roof of the mouth, and shattered out of the top of the head in a spray of grayish brains, blood and splinters of bone.
Before Slaughter could roll over and face Scar after dealing with Zeke, or Trace foimd himself free to divert his attention from Bill, Scar was backing away. Bill's body jerked imder the impact of lead and went down in the boned-out manner of a head-shot man, crumpling
Even as he reached his decision. Trace saw a flicker of something red show through the crack betw^een two of the bam side's sun-warped planks. Only for an instant was the color there, it moved from left to right across the two-inch-wide gap and the bam's door stood to the light of the space.
While he did not set himself up as one of the world's great thinkers, Washita Trace figiued he could add one and one to bring up the right answer. Point one being that the color in the bam had been a bright red, was not a quick-growing flower, but part of a man's shirt. Adding point one to point two, which was that Zeke Taggert—
who had been wearing a bright red shirt when they saw him earlier—did not stand alongside his brothers. Trace made the answer come up to a count of three and a deduction that he had located Zeke's presence.
"We ain't in the mood for funning. Slaughter," Scar warned, speaking while Trace made his study of the situation.
"Nor am I,'' Slaughter replied, "when somebody steals from me."
"Are you calling me a thief?" Scar snarled, wishing he had arranged a signal for Zeke to give when he reached the door of the bam and was ready to cut in.
"That's just what I'm saying—^"
"The bam, John!" Trace yelled. "Down!"
On the last word, both pitched sideways from their saddles. Slaughter did not go over on the side away from the bam, which he might have been expected to do. Instead he left his saddle and fell so he faced the barn's door and as he fell, he drew his Colt.
Springing from the bam, Zeke lined his rifle at where he had seen the two men as he passed the sim-warped planks which betrayed his presence to Trace. Only he aimed in the expectation of shooting a man seated on a horse. Even as he tried to correct his mistake, he saw flame rip from the barrel of Slaughter's Colt and felt the sledgehammer blow of a bullet tearing into him. The gangling thief went backwards into the side of the bam. Even hit badly, he tried to line his rifle at the man who shot him. Slaughter had been a lawman, and he acted as such. A second shot thundered from his Colt, this time he aimed it at Zeke's head. The Winchester cracked an instant after Slaughter fired, but a dead hand squeezed its trigger and its bullet flew harmlessly off into the scrub. Ready to shoot again if his man kept his feet and retained his hold on die gun. Slaughter saw Zeke let the rifle fall and shde down the wall. Only then did the rancher take time out to help deal with the other brothers.
Scar and Bill both grabbed at their guns an instant after Trace's yell started the J.S. men moving. The brothers were taken by surprise by the speed with which
Slaughter and Trace reacted, and delayed too long in starting to make their moves.
For all his bulk and slow wits, Bill could move with surprising speed at such times, and he acted fast enough to make him the more dangerous of the remaining brothers. Yet he was too slow. Even as Bill clawed out his gun, Washita Trace's long-barreled Colt bellowed. Trace shot to kill and for an instant kill, the only way he dared shoot imder the drcumstances. His Colt's bullet struck under Bill's outthrust jaw, ripped up through the roof of the mouth, and shattered out of the top of the head in a spray of grayish brains, blood and splinters of bone.
Before Slaughter could roll over and face Scar after dealing with Zeke, or Trace foimd himself free to divert his attention from Bill, Scar was backing away. Bill's body jerked imder the impact of lead and went down in the boned-out manner of a head-shot man, crumpling
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