High Valley Manhunt: Laramie Davies #1 by B. S. Dunn Read Free Book Online Page B

pain, “You heard right.”
    “I
tell you what Harbin. How about we forget our paths ever crossed?
Would that suit you?”
    Harbin
looked at the law man suspiciously, “Now why would you do
that?”
    “Because
it ain't you we're chasin',” Jeb explained, “We are after
the scum that killed my brother's boy, who also happened to be my
deputy. Feller by the name of Laramie Davis.”
    Harbin
laughed bitterly.
    “What's
funny?” the Sheriff asked, curious.
    “Hell,
Laramie was here last night Sheriff,” Harbin explained, his
voice full of mirth, “ Matter of fact he left sometime during
the night and took somethin' of mine with him.”
    “Where
did he go?” the Judge burst out eagerly, “Answer me man,
I must know so the killer can hang.”
    “Ease
up Judge,” Jeb cautioned his brother.
    “Well,
well, a Judge too. This just gets better,” Harbin went quiet,
trying to think.
    “Are
we goin' to shoot 'em Blackie?” Benny asked his boss from
halfway across the yard.
    “Shut
up a moment kid, I'm busy.”
    Harbin
looked thoughtfully at the Sheriff, “I tell you what law man,
since you and I are goin' to be after the same man, how about we join
up together and do it that way.”
    There
were two reasons for Harbin's suggestion. The first was the Indians.
He knew, without a doubt, that they would be back. The second was the
ammunition situation, as he had no bullets left in his gun. He
couldn't shoot the Sheriff even if he'd wanted to.
    “No!”
barked the Judge.
    Jeb
ignored his brother, “Alright we'll do it that way, but I
don't want no grief. Any trouble from your boys and they'll have me
to deal with. That goes for you too.”
    Harbin's
eyes glittered and he broke into a churlish grin as he lowered his
gun, “Looks like we got ourselves a deal.”
    “Fine
then,” affirmed Jeb Coltrain, “we'd best see to the dead
and wounded.”

    *

    The
trio topped Frenchie's Pass early in the afternoon and the vista
before them, was one of the most beautiful sights that Sally had ever
seen. The lush, green meadows, the giant trees from an ageless time,
and the sun's reflection on the crystal clear water of the lake that
sparkled like diamonds. The effect was breathtakingly spectacular.
    “That
is amazing,” she marvelled softly, as she tried to find her
voice, “I never knew a place like this existed. It's
unbelievable.”
    “As
old Lonesome says, it's about as close to heaven as a man can get,
without dyin'.”
    “I
think I tend to agree with him, whoever he is,” Sally said, her
mouth agape in awe, “What's it called? This valley, what's its
name?”
    Laramie
shook his head, “Beaver Valley.”
    “Who's
Old Lonesome?” Slate asked.
    “He's
an old trapper, goes by the name of Lonesome Lane,” explained
Laramie, “He's been livin' in this valley since forever. You'll
meet him later on, as we should reach his cabin before dark.”
    The
trail down into the valley was narrow. It twisted through tall
ponderosa, and turned past large, jagged rock formations. At one
point, the path tapered down to a constricted ledge that ran along a
sheer cliff face with a drop of over five hundred feet, before it
opened up again and curved away through another stand of trees.
Occasionally, a small rivulet of water cut the rider's path and
continued its course to the drop off, where it formed one of many
scattered, miniature waterfalls.
    On
their arrival at the base of the valley, the trail came out into a
broad meadow and the trio found themselves riding through grass,
thick and tall enough to touch their horse's flanks.
    For
the rest of the afternoon they followed the trail as it meandered
across small, swift flowing streams that bubbled and gurgled over
their rocky bottoms, dappled sunlight creating a hypnotic effect. On
the north shore of the small lake, the riders startled some elk that
grazed upon an abundance of sweet grass. The horses picked their way
along the bank of a slow stream and headed toward a large dam