Read Online The Border Empire by Ralph Compton - Free Book Online Page B

without a country.”
    His voice was cold, flat, emotionless. Startled by the manner in which the man’s life paralleled his own, Wes said nothing. He took a pair of extra blankets from the packsaddle and passed them to El Lobo. He then set about building a fire, seeking the hot coffee he had been denied earlier in the day. By the time the coffee was ready, El Lobo slept. Wes crept to the secluded mouth of the cave and found the rain had ceased and the sun was no more than two hours high. In what was left of the day, there was little he could do. Better that he remain with the wounded man, for he would almost surely have a fever before the night was done. He would need one of the two quarts of whiskey Wes and brought along for just such a purpose.
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    Selmer, Mull, and Coe were limping toward town when the rain started.
    â€œDamn it,” Mull said, “if the two of you hadn’t cut down on El Lobo, that varmint on the hill wouldn’t of took us by surprise. I aim to see that Wooten hears about it.”
    â€œHe won’t hear about it from you,” said Selmer. Drawing his revolver, he shot the surprised Mull in the head.
    Selmer and Coe walked on through the driving rain, and it was Coe who finally spoke.
    â€œFive men dead, and that gun-throwin’ bastard didn’t get a scratch. It’ll be almighty hard, gittin’ Wooten to swallow that.”
    â€œHe’s got no choice,” said Selmer, “an’ neither have we. This damn pistolero’s got to be thought of as nine feet tall, a yard wide, an’ hell on little red wheels with a gun.”
    â€œEl Diablo, with horns, hooves, an’ a spike tail,” Coe said.
    â€œThat, an’ more,” said Selmer. “There was somethin’ unnatural about him escapin’ all of us at that lodgin’ house last night. We got to build on that, else Wooten will have the both of us hung by the heels over a slow fire.”

Namiquipa, Mexico. July 6, 1884
    Jake Kazman was furious. For a long moment, he glared at Dantzler, Shatiqua, and Boudlin in tight-lipped silence. When he spoke again, he turned away from Dantzler, one of his lieutenants, and directed his wrath at Shatiqua and Boudlin.
    â€œWe’re goin’ over this one more time, by God. You’re tellin’ me you found seven men dead, with not a clue as to who gunned them down or why?”
    â€œHonest to God,” said Boudlin. “Nobody took the horses. We follered the tracks, but they was scattered seven ways from Sunday. Hell, they was all shod, and some of ’em was headed for Chihuahua.”
    â€œHell’s bells,” Kazman roared, “that was likely the tracks of the killers. The two of you combined didn’t have sense enough to trail them?”
    â€œI’ve had enough of you rakin’ my carcass,” Shatiqua said. “Them hombres had been dead long enough for buzzards an’ coyotes to nearly pick ‘em clean. Whoever gunned ’em down had a three-day start. What good would it of done to foller ‘em, knowin’ we’d lose the trail? Hell, two hours after we found ’em, it was rainin’ like pourin’ it out of a boot.”
    â€œThere’s truth in what he’s sayin’, Jake,” said Dantzler. “If the hombres that done the killings an’ scattered the horses rode on to Chihuahua, maybe Wooten will have word of them.”
    It was something to consider, and Kazman turned thoughtful. When he spoke again, his anger had subsided.
    â€œEven if Wooten’s heard nothing, he should be told about the killings and the missing horses. There’s somethin’ more to this than meets the eye. I’ll ride to Chihuahua and talk to Wooten.”
    â€œI reckon it’d be a smart move,” Dantzler said. “It’s almost like vengeance killings.”
    Jake Kazman said nothing more. An hour later, he saddled a horse and rode south.
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    As the night