Read Online The Return of Caulfield Blake by G. Clifton Wisler - Free Book Online Page A

complain about the garrisons or the Ohio judges till they raised your taxes. Even then, you were better off than most.
    â€œYou, Matt Simpson. Ever ask your grandpa how I come to wear a badge? Was Henry Simpson handed it to me. Was that old man there who sent me out to bring Austin in ahead of the cavalry. He thought the trail could be bought.”
    â€œYou’re lying!” young Simpson yelled, riding out in front of the others. A pair of bucksin-clad companions followed. Caulie knew both from a run-in back at The Flat. Abe and Noah Jenkins had a reputation for drawing quick and shooting straight. Neither asked many questions other than how much gold a killing might put in a pocket.
    â€œSo that’s how it’s to be, is it?” Caulie asked, yawning. “Seems a bit early for a showdown. You Jenkins boys usually prefer your fightin’ after dusk, I hear.”
    â€œCalm down, Matt,” Henry Simpson urged. “We’ve barely begun our game.”
    â€œYou mean to let his words stand, Grandpa?” Matt asked.
    â€œNobody’s heard ’em,” Simpson declared. “You boys know a lie at its face, don’t you?”
    The men on the dam laughed nervously. Caulie tensed. Abe Jenkins ran his fingers along the barrel of a Colt.
    â€œYou heard him,” Matt said in disgust. “Get back to your work.” The Jenkins brothers turned away. Then Matt pointed to Blake and cried, “It’s not finished. Just postponed. I’ll be coming for you.”
    â€œI’m not hard to find,” Caulie responded. “But you make sure you do your prayin’ first ’cause there’s not apt to be time after. You hear?”
    â€œI haven’t heard a word you’ve said since I met you,” Matt said, laughing loudly. “Now get off our land!”
    A rifle barked from the dam, and a single bullet split the air to Caulie’s left. Slowly, cautiously, Caulie turned and rode away. The day would come when he’d have to settle with Matt Simpson, but that could wait. The odds weren’t favorable at present.

Chapter Seven
    As evening shadows settled upon the land, Caulie made a second visit to Simpson’s dam. Under the cloak of night he crawled along the creekbed until he was within ten feet of the dam itself. The guards huddled around a small fire and sang camp songs as they gazed out across the valley. Their eyes searched for men on horseback, though, and they failed to detect the lone shadow, that ghost of a man crawling along the dying stream below.
    Caulie examined the dam as carefully as he could without risking discovery. Even blowing a small hole in the stone surface would be no easy task. A solitary man couldn’t creep in and plant explosives. He would need help.
    He studied the structure for a moment before slipping back into the cover of nearby boulders. Three charges set near the base of the dam might crack the rock wall. The force of the water backed up in Siler’s Hollow would likely do the rest. If not, he’d better convince Hannah to leave.
    He led his horse back through the tangle of briars and scrub mesquite that covered the broken country south of Carpenter Creek. He didn’t mount up until he was a quarter mile off. Then he rode briskly toward the gap he’d tom in the Diamond S fence abutting Dix Stewart’s place. From the fence it was less than two miles on to Dix’s cabin. He was there almost before he knew it. After seeing to his horse, he took out a yellowing sketch pad from his saddlebags and penciled in the dam, the creek, what cover he’d located, and which paths might offer escape.
    Caulie knew Simpson’s men would have the wire mended by the time Dix and the others would be ready to move against the dam. The best way out would be along the creek, toward Hannah’s place, or else straight into town. Taking the creek would be tricky, what with a wall of water raging down on them once