Read Online West of Tombstone by Paul Lederer - Free Book Online Page B

hear their breathing and the hard breathing of the men. Hogan, Cameron noticed, looked back across his shoulder more and more frequently as if waiting for help to arrive. It was still far too soon; and then, maybe Voorman’s maneuvering back on the creek had truly concealed their course from any pursuers.
    â€˜There’s no two ways about it,’ Hogan said, as the three men sat resting in the scant shade of a half-dozen ocotillo bushes. The spiny plants rose twenty feet over their heads and the tips of these ‘coachman’s whips’ were decorated with incarnadine flowers at this time of year. The shadows of the tall whiplike plants wove and recrossed casting a basket weave of shadow against the hot sand. Cameron saw a fat horned toad, body panting as it breathed the hot dusty air.
    â€˜We’ve got to find a little town, a ranch.’
    â€˜Water,’ Voorman said.
    â€˜Yes. At least water, or we’re not long for it. How about it, Harte? They say you know this desert as well as any man.’
    Cameron hesitated a moment too long before answering, ‘Not this far south, I’m afraid.’
    â€˜Water, boys,’ Voorman repeated. ‘Some clothes if we can find them,’ he said, plucking at his pale, ill-fitting prison garb. ‘And fresh horses. We haven’t got a chance continuing as we are.’
    They weren’t quite desperate yet, but as twilight again began to dull the land with deep violet, Cameron’s lips were cracked with the heat and the back of his neck was burned raw. The two horses – what were they, plow horses! – stumbled on through the sand and then across the rock-strewn flats with their heads lowered, bodies swaying without energy. All the same, the horses were liable to last longer than they were out here. One more day – did they have the strength to ride one more day through the desert’s blast-furnace heat?
    â€˜If we could find the Colorado, we’d be all right,’ Voorman said.
    â€˜That’s a big snaking river. Which direction is it from here, do you think, Dutchman?’
    â€˜I don’t know! Damn all.’
    â€˜We’ll be all right. It will take some time, that’s all,’ Hogan said, with a confidence he might or might not have felt. ‘No one said it would be easy. We all knew what we were up against when we made this choice.’
    After sundown on this night they camped on a low, rocky rise where yucca and some thorny mesquite trees grew. No one spoke. They were all thirsty, all hungry. Tempers were too short to risk much conversation.
    Voorman did say, as he stood and pointed out toward the south, ‘Boys, I believe I see light that way. Camp-fire maybe, maybe a town!’
    Neither of the others could see it; besides, whatever it was, it was too far for them to investigate on that cold night with man and horse beaten by the long miles.
    â€˜I say we strike out that direction come morning,’ the Dutchman said. ‘I tell you, I saw light.’
    â€˜It makes no difference to me,’ Hogan said, as he rolled up in his only blanket. Although Cameron knew that it probably did. Each day was taking them away from where the money was supposed to be hidden. Both of his companions had to be aware of that.
    Nearly asleep, Cameron was awakened by a shuffling sound near his poor bed. He saw the Dutchman hovering over him and he stiffened reflexively. Voorman bent low and whispered very low but excitedly.
    â€˜Hogan’s got to have a gun with him. I mean to get it when he’s full asleep. Are you with me, Harte?’
    He nodded slowly. Voorman clapped him on the shoulder and skulked away. Cameron Black was still a cub among these violent wolves. He should have considered before that Hogan would have a gun. Of course he would, perhaps hidden in his saddle-bags. How else could he have been sure of gaining the upper hand when the time came?
    He hadn’t meant to agree to