Read Online West of Tombstone by Paul Lederer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Paul Lederer
Ads: Link
wise.â
There was palpable tension between the two, each mistrusting the other as they started to back-track, riding in the creek proper to disguise their tracks. Hopefully the prison did not have an Indian tracker or an experienced army scout at its disposal. Most men, Cameron knew, could not find such slight traces as a stone chipped by a steel horseshoe, let alone follow after them swiftly. Voorman, he knew, was correct and he was momentarily glad that the Dutchman was with him.
But which of the two was to be more feared? Hoganâs job was to find the missing stolen money by coercing Cameron Black. Once he finally came to understand that Cameron was not Stony Harte, he was apt simply to leave him in the desert to die. Voorman? Did the Dutchman simply wish to escape or had he made a separate bargain with the authorities to try to make them reconsider his own pending death sentence?
There was no telling. Cameron could trust neither of them, he knew. His wish had been to find Stony Harte, somehow recover the loot and return it. Return it to ⦠he was still a young man and unused to duplicity, but he realized that Warden Traylor and Sheriff Barney Yount who had been at this sort of business for a long time would happily welcome him back with the money â and as happily toss him back into a cell where he would never live to tell his tale.
No, the only intelligent thing to do, he considered, as his horse plodded on along the dwindling watercourse and they moved out onto the wide desert, was to wait for his chance and make a break for California, Mexico ⦠anywhere.
But that would leave Stony Harte unpunished, wouldnât it? And for what Stonyâs betrayal had caused him to go through, the bandit would pay if Cameron could find a way.
âWhereâd you get these horses?â Voorman demanded angrily.
âWhen youâre in need you canât pick and choose,â Hogan shot back, regaining his recklessness.
âThis damnâ beast is staggering already. Weâre going to have to walk a way and we havenât made twenty miles. And look at that half-moon rising! Weâre nothing but targets out here.â
âIf you hadnât doubled back.â¦â Hogan sputtered.
âIf we hadnât, theyâd probably already have us!â
The argument was somewhat surreal since both men knew that there would be no posse swooping down on them until they had somehow convinced or forced Cameron to show them where the stolen money was hidden. But both men were on edge â Cameron thought Hogan was nervous because he did not want to leave the pursuit behind and feared the doubling back might have done so. Then Voorman, although he probably would have liked to see the money, was a convicted killer who feared the men from the prison could be too close.
Cam allowed them their squabble, pretending to know nothing. Nonetheless, the horses, aged and out of condition, were weary and the three swung down to walk, leading the ponies across the moon-glossed white desert. The second day was a duplicate of the first, horse and man staggering across an endless desert waste with a merciless sun overhead.
âWe got to make camp,â Hogan complained, as they struggled on through the deep sand.
âNot out here,â Voorman said. âLetâs find us a place to lay up after sunrise. If we canât find water, we wonât make it far in the heat.â
âIf we could find a ranch, maybe a small pueblo where we could snag up some good horses.â¦â
ââIfâ is a fine and meaningless word,â Voorman grumbled.
âHell with you,â Hogan said. He was gradually regaining his truculence, convinced now, perhaps, that Voorman wasnât going to attempt to murder him.
The sand became deeper and by the middle of the night they found themselves wandering through a moonscape of dunes, forty- to fifty-feet high. The horses labored on, Cameron could
There was palpable tension between the two, each mistrusting the other as they started to back-track, riding in the creek proper to disguise their tracks. Hopefully the prison did not have an Indian tracker or an experienced army scout at its disposal. Most men, Cameron knew, could not find such slight traces as a stone chipped by a steel horseshoe, let alone follow after them swiftly. Voorman, he knew, was correct and he was momentarily glad that the Dutchman was with him.
But which of the two was to be more feared? Hoganâs job was to find the missing stolen money by coercing Cameron Black. Once he finally came to understand that Cameron was not Stony Harte, he was apt simply to leave him in the desert to die. Voorman? Did the Dutchman simply wish to escape or had he made a separate bargain with the authorities to try to make them reconsider his own pending death sentence?
There was no telling. Cameron could trust neither of them, he knew. His wish had been to find Stony Harte, somehow recover the loot and return it. Return it to ⦠he was still a young man and unused to duplicity, but he realized that Warden Traylor and Sheriff Barney Yount who had been at this sort of business for a long time would happily welcome him back with the money â and as happily toss him back into a cell where he would never live to tell his tale.
No, the only intelligent thing to do, he considered, as his horse plodded on along the dwindling watercourse and they moved out onto the wide desert, was to wait for his chance and make a break for California, Mexico ⦠anywhere.
But that would leave Stony Harte unpunished, wouldnât it? And for what Stonyâs betrayal had caused him to go through, the bandit would pay if Cameron could find a way.
âWhereâd you get these horses?â Voorman demanded angrily.
âWhen youâre in need you canât pick and choose,â Hogan shot back, regaining his recklessness.
âThis damnâ beast is staggering already. Weâre going to have to walk a way and we havenât made twenty miles. And look at that half-moon rising! Weâre nothing but targets out here.â
âIf you hadnât doubled back.â¦â Hogan sputtered.
âIf we hadnât, theyâd probably already have us!â
The argument was somewhat surreal since both men knew that there would be no posse swooping down on them until they had somehow convinced or forced Cameron to show them where the stolen money was hidden. But both men were on edge â Cameron thought Hogan was nervous because he did not want to leave the pursuit behind and feared the doubling back might have done so. Then Voorman, although he probably would have liked to see the money, was a convicted killer who feared the men from the prison could be too close.
Cam allowed them their squabble, pretending to know nothing. Nonetheless, the horses, aged and out of condition, were weary and the three swung down to walk, leading the ponies across the moon-glossed white desert. The second day was a duplicate of the first, horse and man staggering across an endless desert waste with a merciless sun overhead.
âWe got to make camp,â Hogan complained, as they struggled on through the deep sand.
âNot out here,â Voorman said. âLetâs find us a place to lay up after sunrise. If we canât find water, we wonât make it far in the heat.â
âIf we could find a ranch, maybe a small pueblo where we could snag up some good horses.â¦â
ââIfâ is a fine and meaningless word,â Voorman grumbled.
âHell with you,â Hogan said. He was gradually regaining his truculence, convinced now, perhaps, that Voorman wasnât going to attempt to murder him.
The sand became deeper and by the middle of the night they found themselves wandering through a moonscape of dunes, forty- to fifty-feet high. The horses labored on, Cameron could
Similar Books
