A Good Day To Kill by Dusty Richards Read Free Book Online Page B

wash out his dry mouth from sleeping so hard. Of all the forts he’d been to, this was the best located and best built.
    â€œYou must be Marshal Byrnes?” The captain, a man in his thirties, stood above him.
    â€œYes, I arrived last night. Have a seat.”
    â€œCaptain Evans, Marshal. I’m assigned to help you and your men any way I can.”
    â€œWonderful. They had a close call up in the canyons in that ambush.”
    â€œMy Apache scouts said that was no fight. These cowboys killed them.”
    â€œI understand they turned the tables on them.”
    â€œThat they did. Go ahead and eat. I understand you’re healing from another raid.”
    â€œI’m about well.”
    â€œYour men are about healed, too. They’re a well-organized law enforcement group. But you don’t have to leave here.”
    â€œThey need to go home to check with their wives. Have some breathing room. Then we can come back later, fresh and ready to start this war over again.”
    â€œI understand. Who cares for your ranches while you do this?”
    â€œA set of top foremen who, like these men, are damn tough. They aren’t tough like a bulldog, they work with their crew. But they’re solid.”
    â€œFolks say you’re building an empire.”
    â€œA family one.”
    â€œI was simply curious.”
    â€œNo problem. I get asked all the time.”
    He wondered about Reg. Poor guy must think he’d gave up on him. He’d write him and Lucie a letter. Reflectively, he sipped on the still hot coffee and looked across the near empty mess hall tent.
    Plans began to form in his mind. Take their horses to Ortega’s, then load everyone on stagecoaches and take three weeks off. Get his new ranch plans rolling in Tucson, as well. Poor Marge was probably having their baby all alone.
    He gathered his crew midmorning in the mess hall. The men were all drinking coffee that Captain Evans ordered for them.
    â€œWhat have you heard about the old man’s crew?” he asked Evans.
    â€œHe’s damn shorthanded. And he’s been borrowing vaqueros from other ranchers to move his beef shipments. My informants say he lost as many as twelve men, or more, in his ambush of your men.”
    â€œGood,” Roamer said. “I’d like twenty more.”
    â€œDamn right,” JD said. “They started in shooting at us and it took us several minutes to realize they had no rifles. Their powder was real sorry and by then we had our Winchesters blazing.”
    Shawn took up the story. “I was running as fast as I could to get them ammo. Bullets whizzing all over. I couldn’t help the brothers. They were taking the west mountain. I was never so shaken in my whole life, but I had no time to think about it. I recall taking more ammo to Roamer and he said, ‘Kneel down.’ Then he went on, saying, ‘We’ve won. Find the others. Have them come down here, if they can make it.’ Blood was coming down his face and he looked real woozy. When I asked what I could do for him, he said, ‘Tie my silk kerchief around my head. That may stop the bleeding some.’
    â€œJD came in with a bloody arm. Cole had four small wounds. The brothers were just scratched. I sent a boy to the fort for medical help. And, boy, they arrived quick and they were good. Then Roamer told me to telegram you that we were all alive.”
    â€œI figured they were trailing back to Mexico and I wanted them stopped,” Roamer said. “We agreed when they went over the mountain we’d strike them. They never went over. Instead, they set up to ambush us.”
    â€œAny idea who led them?” Chet asked.
    â€œKurt Holder. He was the main man. Big man, stood six-foot-six. Standing on that ridge he made an easy target, shouting in German to Mexicans what he wanted done. He thought we only had pistols, too, I guess. But we shut him up in a snap of the trigger and spilled