Read Online the Man from Skibbereen (1973) by Louis L'amour - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Louis L'amour
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Sherman and at least ten pounds heavier. My hair is darker than his. Only those who know neither of us well could mistake one for the other. The resemblance is superficial."
Silver Dick was thoughtful. "Then I suspect, if that's a fact, that they won't chase after you the way they would the general?"
"Wrong," McClean said. "Contego, the general is in command, and Sherman is not one to be laggard in such a case. I'd say that mounted patrols are already fanning out from a dozen positions, all of them hunting us. Partly because of me, but more, perhaps, because you stopped a train."
McClean eased his position a mite. "Contego, you are an intelligent man. Please consider your position. Nearly twenty--four hours ago, a messenger must have left the station to report to Fort Sanders and the end of track. There are forty--five soldiers at the fort, at least twenty at Hell--on--Wheels, and they can be detached... or at least most of them can.
"When my report failed to reach headquarters, inquiries will have been made, and certainly the telegraph wires will have been repaired shortly after that. At least four troops of cavalry, with Indian trackers, will be headed this way. North and his Pawnee scouts will also be out. You made a bold gamble, but you've lost."
"That won't do you much good," Contego said. "You'll be dead."
"I said you were an intelligent man, Contego. Dead, I am worth nothing to you. Alive, I could at least speak for the man who spoke for me."
Silver Dick studied him thoughtfully. He took out his fancy comb and ran it through his hair. "I'm not in command," he said. "Parley is, and Parley wants you dead. Del Robb wants everybody dead, or at least he doesn't care who he kills. We wanted Sherman. He wiped out some of our homes, he broke the back of the South. We got you. I believe you aren't Sherman, yes, but, I reckon you were with him, so we'll just have to give you what we planned for him, and catch up with him another time."
"Think about it, Contego. You appear to be a shrewd, careful man... why not have an ace in the hole? If you get away, you have nothing to worry about. If you are caught, I can always say you protected me. It might make the difference between hanging or not hanging."
Contego got to his feet. "Well," he said, smiling a little, "I'll admit one thing: that difference is considerable."
It must be almost ten o'clock, judging by the moon, which was full. By now it was all beginning to happen. McClean knew the machinery so well that he could picture every step. What he did not know were several things of importance to him.
He did not know that his daughter had been one of the three riders who stampeded the horse herd, or that miles to the west an Indian woman, her child, and her wounded husband were nearing Fort Sanders.
Nor did he know that only a few yards away from him, Justin Parley, Del Robb and several others were grouped together talking earnestly. "Suppose he ain't Sherman," one man was saying, "he's a damn Yankee anyway, so kill him an' bury him. Nobody can prove nothing."
"The girl saw me," another said. "I wish we had her here."
"I wish we had her, too," the first man said, and chuckled.
Parley tasted his coffee. It was lukewarm. Irritated, he put the cup down. "Who's after the horses besides Noble?"
Robb said, "Murray follered him. Noble ain't much good, but Murray's tough and he's mean."
"Noble's a good tracker," Parley said, "that's one reason I let him go. He may be a slob, but he's good at trailing, and he has no place to go unless he finds the horses."
"What about him?" Robb said, thumbing in the colonel's direction. "How long are you going to keep him around?"
"What's the hurry?" Silver Dick said mildly. "We've got him. Let's wait until we have some horses. If they should close in, we can trade him."
"That makes sense," Parley commented. He considered it. "The longer we keep him the more he'll worry. He isn't going to get away."
Pete Noble found the trail of the
Silver Dick was thoughtful. "Then I suspect, if that's a fact, that they won't chase after you the way they would the general?"
"Wrong," McClean said. "Contego, the general is in command, and Sherman is not one to be laggard in such a case. I'd say that mounted patrols are already fanning out from a dozen positions, all of them hunting us. Partly because of me, but more, perhaps, because you stopped a train."
McClean eased his position a mite. "Contego, you are an intelligent man. Please consider your position. Nearly twenty--four hours ago, a messenger must have left the station to report to Fort Sanders and the end of track. There are forty--five soldiers at the fort, at least twenty at Hell--on--Wheels, and they can be detached... or at least most of them can.
"When my report failed to reach headquarters, inquiries will have been made, and certainly the telegraph wires will have been repaired shortly after that. At least four troops of cavalry, with Indian trackers, will be headed this way. North and his Pawnee scouts will also be out. You made a bold gamble, but you've lost."
"That won't do you much good," Contego said. "You'll be dead."
"I said you were an intelligent man, Contego. Dead, I am worth nothing to you. Alive, I could at least speak for the man who spoke for me."
Silver Dick studied him thoughtfully. He took out his fancy comb and ran it through his hair. "I'm not in command," he said. "Parley is, and Parley wants you dead. Del Robb wants everybody dead, or at least he doesn't care who he kills. We wanted Sherman. He wiped out some of our homes, he broke the back of the South. We got you. I believe you aren't Sherman, yes, but, I reckon you were with him, so we'll just have to give you what we planned for him, and catch up with him another time."
"Think about it, Contego. You appear to be a shrewd, careful man... why not have an ace in the hole? If you get away, you have nothing to worry about. If you are caught, I can always say you protected me. It might make the difference between hanging or not hanging."
Contego got to his feet. "Well," he said, smiling a little, "I'll admit one thing: that difference is considerable."
It must be almost ten o'clock, judging by the moon, which was full. By now it was all beginning to happen. McClean knew the machinery so well that he could picture every step. What he did not know were several things of importance to him.
He did not know that his daughter had been one of the three riders who stampeded the horse herd, or that miles to the west an Indian woman, her child, and her wounded husband were nearing Fort Sanders.
Nor did he know that only a few yards away from him, Justin Parley, Del Robb and several others were grouped together talking earnestly. "Suppose he ain't Sherman," one man was saying, "he's a damn Yankee anyway, so kill him an' bury him. Nobody can prove nothing."
"The girl saw me," another said. "I wish we had her here."
"I wish we had her, too," the first man said, and chuckled.
Parley tasted his coffee. It was lukewarm. Irritated, he put the cup down. "Who's after the horses besides Noble?"
Robb said, "Murray follered him. Noble ain't much good, but Murray's tough and he's mean."
"Noble's a good tracker," Parley said, "that's one reason I let him go. He may be a slob, but he's good at trailing, and he has no place to go unless he finds the horses."
"What about him?" Robb said, thumbing in the colonel's direction. "How long are you going to keep him around?"
"What's the hurry?" Silver Dick said mildly. "We've got him. Let's wait until we have some horses. If they should close in, we can trade him."
"That makes sense," Parley commented. He considered it. "The longer we keep him the more he'll worry. He isn't going to get away."
Pete Noble found the trail of the
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