Ralph Compton Death Along the Cimarron by RALPH COMPTON Read Free Book Online Page B

dark alley. The bullet hit the ground a full five yards short and three yards to the left. A wild shot. Too wild, she thought to herself. Knowing that any second Stick would draw a bead on the muzzle flash, she called out, “Stick, hold your fire!”
    Another rifle shot rang out, but then a woman’s voice called out from farther away in the smoky darkness. “Is that you, Danielle Strange?”
    â€œYes, it’s me, Mrs. Blanchard,” said Danielle, recognizing the voice. “Don’t shoot.”
    â€œOh dear, Miss Danielle! I’m so sorry,” Annabelle Blanchard cried in a shaky voice. “Are you all right, child?”
    â€œI’m all right, Mrs. Blanchard,” Danielle replied. “Aim your rifle at the ground and come on out where I can see you.” Danielle wasn’t about to be the first to step out from behind her cover. Instead, she scanned the smoky shadows and the glittering embers and saw no one else. “What’s gone on here? Is there anybody else around?” she called out, wanting to make sure that anyone who might be listening would hear her voice and recognize it.
    Across the street, Stick kept his Spencer rifle aimed into the darkness as Annabelle Blanchard stepped out cautiously, wearing a long sleeping gown with a long wool coat over it. Annabelle began to hurry forward when Danielle showed herself and kept her Colt down by her side in her gloved hand. “Here I am, Mrs. Blanchard,” said Danielle.
    â€œOh, Miss Danielle!” Annabelle sobbed, letting her rifle slump down to her side. “It’s been just awful here! They killed poor Klute Kinsky, the ole teamster... and Milton Shirley, our telegraph clerk!” She let out a tortured sigh and shuddered. “They just killed everybody.” Her eyes were large and shiny with fear. Touched with madness, Danielle thought to herself, looking Annabelle up and down. “They would have killed my Robert too,” Annabelle continued, “but I dragged him out of the street and hid him from them.”
    Danielle saw the woman was nearly delirious. She stepped beside her, giving Stick a look, and said, “Come on, Annabelle, take me to Robert. Then we’ll get you something warm to drink and get you out of the morning chill.”
    Annabelle shivered slightly. “Yes ... I’ll take you to Robert, but I must warn you he isn’t himself this morning.” She looked around at the burned shamble of a town. “Not that I can blame him though, with all this going on.”
    With Danielle guiding her along the empty dirt street, Annabelle murmured to herself about the condition of the destroyed town. A few yards down the street, they came upon the bodies of two men who had been the first ones Earl Muir had asked for directions to Danielle’s spread. When they had refused to tell him what he wanted to know, Earl and Frisco Bonham had shot them dead.
    â€œExcuse us, gentlemen,” Annabelle said to the bloody corpses as if they were still alive. Danielle continued helping her along, casting a glance over her shoulder long enough to see that Stick was gathering their horses. “I’m afraid it will take some time for this town to recover from a mess such as this,” Annabelle said, stepping daintily around the bodies.
    Danielle was not surprised when they approached the blank dead face of Robert Blanchard staring off toward the sky as he lay slumped against the side of a small plank shack, the only building Earl Muir and his men had overlooked in their rampage. “I was concerned about Robert at first,” said Annabelle. “But now I think he’s going to be all right, don’t you, Miss Danielle?”
    Seeing the two ragged bullet holes in Robert’s chest, Danielle took a deep breath and placed a consoling arm across Annabelle’s shoulders. “Listen to me, Annabelle,” she said as gently as she could. “Robert is dead....