Read Online the Outlaws Of Mesquite (Ss) (1990) by Louis L'amour - Free Book Online
Authors: Louis L'amour
Ads: Link
killing fury unabated, the dun had come for him, lunging with slashing hoofs at the rocks, but unable because of the position in which he lay, to get at the boy.
For three fear-haunted hours the killer dun had circled those rocks. Time and again he struggled to get at the boy lying in the crevice. In those hours had been born an overwhelming horror of the horse. A horror that was never forgotten. Long after the horses had gone, led away by the dun on some whim of the wild, Marty had lain there, cramped and still, fearing to move, fearing to show himself in the open where the stallion might again come upon him.
Never again had he gone up on the range without a pistol, but never again had he gone to that section of the range. He had seen no more of the horse until that day in Calgary when the dun had shown itself under the saddle of Cy Drannan, Marty's best friend.
Marty had hurried to the rider and told him the horse was a killer.
"So what?" Drannan shrugged. "I've heard of killers but never seen one! I always figured I'd like to top one off!"
Cy Drannan, happy, friendly, a good companion and rider, died on the bloody tanbark that day under the lashing hoofs of a horse that was a cunning, hate-ridden devil.
Now that horse was here, in this show, and he was to ride him. He, Marty Mahan.
Peg Graham was waiting for him when the parade ended. Her eyes were bright.
"Oh, Marty! Dad's said that after the rodeo if you will buy that Willow Creek range he will give his consent!"
Marty nodded soberly. "Does it have to be right away, honey?" he asked. "I mean, I ... well, I may not make enough money in this show. Added to what I have, it will have to be a good fifteen hundred to swing that deal. I'd have to win four events to make it."
"Not if you win the bronc riding, Marty! They've upped the prize money and have offered a flat thousand dollars for top money! You can win it! You've already beaten both Red Carver and Yannell Stoper before!"
He hesitated, his face flushing. "I'm not riding broncs in this show, Peg," he said slowly. "I'm going to go in for calf roping, bull riding, steer wrestling, and some other stuff, but not bronc riding."
Peg Graham's face had turned a shade whiter, and her eyes widened. "Then ... then it's true what they say! You are afraid!"
He looked at her, then glanced away, his heart miserable within him. "Yeah, I guess I am," he said, "I guess I am afraid of that horse!"
Peg Graham stared at him, "Marty, I'll never marry a coward! I'll never have it said that my man was afraid to ride a horse that other men would ride! Red Carver has asked for that horse!
Yannell says-was "Yannell?" Marty looked at the girl.
"You've been talking to him?"
"Yes, I have!" she flashed. "At least, he's not afraid of a horse!" She turned on her heel and walked swiftly away, every inch of her quivering with indignation.
Mahan started to turn, then stopped. An old man with a drooping yellowed mustache leaned against the corral.
"Tough, kid!" he said. "I didn't aim to overhear, but couldn't help it. You up to ride the Ghost Maker?"
Marty nodded. "I'm not ridin' him, though!" he said. "That horse is a devil! He shouldn't be allowed in shows like this! That isn't sport or skill. ... It's plain, unadulterated murder!"
"Reckon I agree with you," the old-timer said seriously. "It ain't a bit smart to tackle a horse like that! I've seen him in action, an' he's a killer all through!"
Marty nodded unhappily. "He's from my home range in the Black Rock Desert country. He killed my ridin' horse once, about five years ago."
"You Marty Mahan?" the old man inquired.
"I'm Old John. Heard a lot about you. You don't look like no coward."
Marty's eyes flashed. "I'm not! But I am afraid of that horse! I'm not aimin' to fool anybody about that!"
"Takes a good man to admit he's scared," Old John commented thoughtfully. "Who rides him if you don't?"
"Carver an' Stoper both want him. I wish they'd leave him out of this. He's a killer
For three fear-haunted hours the killer dun had circled those rocks. Time and again he struggled to get at the boy lying in the crevice. In those hours had been born an overwhelming horror of the horse. A horror that was never forgotten. Long after the horses had gone, led away by the dun on some whim of the wild, Marty had lain there, cramped and still, fearing to move, fearing to show himself in the open where the stallion might again come upon him.
Never again had he gone up on the range without a pistol, but never again had he gone to that section of the range. He had seen no more of the horse until that day in Calgary when the dun had shown itself under the saddle of Cy Drannan, Marty's best friend.
Marty had hurried to the rider and told him the horse was a killer.
"So what?" Drannan shrugged. "I've heard of killers but never seen one! I always figured I'd like to top one off!"
Cy Drannan, happy, friendly, a good companion and rider, died on the bloody tanbark that day under the lashing hoofs of a horse that was a cunning, hate-ridden devil.
Now that horse was here, in this show, and he was to ride him. He, Marty Mahan.
Peg Graham was waiting for him when the parade ended. Her eyes were bright.
"Oh, Marty! Dad's said that after the rodeo if you will buy that Willow Creek range he will give his consent!"
Marty nodded soberly. "Does it have to be right away, honey?" he asked. "I mean, I ... well, I may not make enough money in this show. Added to what I have, it will have to be a good fifteen hundred to swing that deal. I'd have to win four events to make it."
"Not if you win the bronc riding, Marty! They've upped the prize money and have offered a flat thousand dollars for top money! You can win it! You've already beaten both Red Carver and Yannell Stoper before!"
He hesitated, his face flushing. "I'm not riding broncs in this show, Peg," he said slowly. "I'm going to go in for calf roping, bull riding, steer wrestling, and some other stuff, but not bronc riding."
Peg Graham's face had turned a shade whiter, and her eyes widened. "Then ... then it's true what they say! You are afraid!"
He looked at her, then glanced away, his heart miserable within him. "Yeah, I guess I am," he said, "I guess I am afraid of that horse!"
Peg Graham stared at him, "Marty, I'll never marry a coward! I'll never have it said that my man was afraid to ride a horse that other men would ride! Red Carver has asked for that horse!
Yannell says-was "Yannell?" Marty looked at the girl.
"You've been talking to him?"
"Yes, I have!" she flashed. "At least, he's not afraid of a horse!" She turned on her heel and walked swiftly away, every inch of her quivering with indignation.
Mahan started to turn, then stopped. An old man with a drooping yellowed mustache leaned against the corral.
"Tough, kid!" he said. "I didn't aim to overhear, but couldn't help it. You up to ride the Ghost Maker?"
Marty nodded. "I'm not ridin' him, though!" he said. "That horse is a devil! He shouldn't be allowed in shows like this! That isn't sport or skill. ... It's plain, unadulterated murder!"
"Reckon I agree with you," the old-timer said seriously. "It ain't a bit smart to tackle a horse like that! I've seen him in action, an' he's a killer all through!"
Marty nodded unhappily. "He's from my home range in the Black Rock Desert country. He killed my ridin' horse once, about five years ago."
"You Marty Mahan?" the old man inquired.
"I'm Old John. Heard a lot about you. You don't look like no coward."
Marty's eyes flashed. "I'm not! But I am afraid of that horse! I'm not aimin' to fool anybody about that!"
"Takes a good man to admit he's scared," Old John commented thoughtfully. "Who rides him if you don't?"
"Carver an' Stoper both want him. I wish they'd leave him out of this. He's a killer
Similar Books
