Hell Come Sundown by Nancy A. Collins Read Free Book Online Page A

didn’t like what he was hearing, no matter what the language. “I ain’t no side of beef to be parceled out amongst your kin!”
    Sangre grabbed the Ranger by the front of his shirt as if he weighed no more than a child. As Yoakum looked directly into Sangre’s burning red eyes, he heard a voice that was not his own murmuring inside his head, urging him to stop struggling and surrender. He felt a sudden pressure on his throat, immediately followed by a piercing pain. Within seconds of being bitten, the wound went numb, as if a paralyzing toxin had been injected into his system. He felt as if he were somehow standing outside his own body, watching as he struggled to escape.
    Summoning the last of his strength, Yoakum pulled himself away from the conquistador. Sangre responded by tightening his grip. There was a tearing sound, and the pocket of Yoakum’s shirt came away in Sanger’s hand. The medallion in his pocket fell to the ground between them. The Spaniard yowled as if Yoakum was hot to the touch, and quickly distanced himself from the wounded Ranger.
    â€œÂ¡Recoja ese collar de Diablo!” Sangre snarled, pointing at the medallion at his feet as if it were a rattlesnake coiled to strike. The dead’uns shuffled their feet and eyed the amulet cautiously. None moved forward to retrieve it. “¡Lo toma lejos!” the conquistador thundered.
    Yoakum snatched up the medallion and swung it in a wide arc, turning to face the others as they crowded in. The creatures moved back, parting before him like the Red Sea. Yoakum realized he could either go back into the church, or he could strike out on foot. Either way, he’d be dead before dawn. But better that he die under the open sky than holed up somewhere with his back to the wall, like a baited bear.
    Yoakum half expected the creatures to dog-pile him the moment his back was turned, but they simply stood by and allowed him to walk away. It was clear from the hungry looks they gave him they wanted nothing more than to tear into him like a Sunday dinner, but something was holding them back—and that something was the mysterious pendant he held in his hands.
    Within minutes he was outside the city limits of Golgotha. He had never been so happy to put a town behind him in his life. The relief he felt upon escaping, however, was quickly replaced with concern. As usual, he was out of the frying pan and into the fire. He was a white man wandering alone, wounded and unarmed in the most hostile territory in Texas. He had no food or water, and nothing more than the clothes on his back to protect him against the elements. It was dark, and he had nothing to light his way but the rising moon and the evening stars.
    Once he was convinced that Sangre and his followers were not coming after him, he slipped the amulet around his neck and turned his attention to the bite on his throat. Though it was not particularly deep, it continued to bleed long after it normally should have clotted. He was able to temporarily staunch the wound by wrapping it with his bandana, but it was not long before the cloth was saturated. He was weary from walking and becoming increasingly lightheaded, but he knew better than to stop and rest. Even if Sangre’s whey-faced spawn weren’t after him, odds were the smell of his blood would attract any number of predators. The last thing he needed in such a weakened condition was to find himself face to face with a mountain lion or a pack of coyotes. Hell, the way he was feeling, he wouldn’t be able to lick a prairie dog.
    As he continued walking, he became dimly aware that he was no longer traveling alone. There was a figure keeping pace with him, one that he could only see from the corner of his eye. The figure was that of a man, dressed in overalls and heavy boots, and he carried a chopping hoe in his left hand, which he used as a walking staff. Though Yoakum could not immediately place the stranger, there was