Read Online The Outlaw Josey Wales by Forrest Carter - Free Book Online Page B

he looked at her. He had run his hands over the firm roundness of her breasts and she had not moved. She was hungry… and helpless. He had put her to work… and he knew how to train Indians… especially Indian women. He had watched for the opportunity, and when she had fallen and overturned a nearly empty barrel of brine he had pushed her face into the floor with one hand while he had beaten her with a barrel stave until his arm was weary. She had stayed motionless under the beating, but he had felt the animal strength in her. Sinewy, flat stomach, firm buttocks and thighs… properly mastered; Zukie relished the thought. When he ate at his table he opened the back door of the lean-to and made the woman squat outside, with the half-starved hound, and he had tossed scraps to her to eat. She was about ready to be moved into his bed, and she wouldn’t be uppity.
    Now Yoke demanded more food, and the Indian woman came, bringing more beef and potatoes. As she reached the table Yoke encircled her waist with a big arm, lifted her from the floor, and slammed her lengthwise on the tabletop. He pressed his huge body down on her breasts, and grabbing her hair, tried to hold her upturned face steady while he slobbered over her mouth. His voice was thick with lust and liquor. “We’re gonna have us a little squaw… ain’t we, Al?”
    Al was caressing the thighs of the woman, his hands moved under her doeskin skirt. She kicked and twisted her face, not crying out… but she was helpless. The heavy door opened suddenly, and Josey Wales stepped through. Everybody froze in motion.
    Zukie Limmer knew it was Josey Wales. The talk of the reward was everywhere. The description of the man was exact; the twin tied-down .44’s, the buckskin jacket, the gray cavalry hat… the heavy white scar that jagged the cheeks. The man must be crazy! No, he must not care whether he lives or dies, to go about making no attempt to disguise himself.
    Zukie had heard the stories of the outlaw. No man could feel safe in his presence, and Zukie felt the recklessness… the ruthlessness that emanated from the man. The threat of Yoke and Al faded as of naughty schoolboys. Zukie Limmer placed his hands on the plank… in plain sight… and a cold, dread fear convinced him his life hung balanced on the whim of this killer.
    Josey Wales moved with a practiced quickness out of the door’s silhouette and with the same fluid motion moved to the end of the bar so that he faced the door. He appeared not to notice the Indian woman and her tormentors. They still held her but watched, fascinated, as he leaned easily on the bar. Zukie burned to face him… keeping his hands tightly on the plank … and looked into black eyes that were cold and flat… and he physically shivered. Josey smiled. Perhaps it was meant to be friendly, but the smile only served to deepen and whiten the big scar so that his face took on an inexpressible cruelty. Zukie felt like a mouse before a big purring cat and so was impelled to make some offer.
    “Have a whiskey, mister?” he heard himself squeaking.
    Josey waited a long time. “Reckin not,” he said dryly.
    “I got some cold beer … good brewed-up Choc. It’s… it’s on the house,” Zukie stammered.
    Josey eased the hat back on his head. “Well now, that’s right neighborly of ye, friend.”
    Zukie placed a huge tin cup before him and from a barrel dippered the dark liquid into it. He was encouraged by the action of Josey Wales drinking beer. It was, after all, a human act. Perhaps the man had some reasonable qualities about him. Surely he could think humanely … and sociably.
    Josey wiped the beer from his mustache with the back of a hand. “Matter of fact,” he said, “I’m lookin’ to buy a hoss.”
    “A hoss… ah… a horse?” Zukie repeated stupidly.
    Al had staggered to the bar. “Gimme a bucket of that Choc,” he said thickly.
    Zukie, still staring at Josey, dipped a tin bucket of the beer from the barrel and