Straw Men by J. R. Roberts Read Free Book Online Page A

over.”
    â€œOh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” As he spoke, Clint fixed his eyes upon the man who was stomping over to him.
    The lead rider had enough fire in his eyes to make it look as if he was ready to pull Clint down from Eclipse’s back. “You’ve got a hell of a lot of explaining to do, mister! I’ve got one man dead and another wounded.”
    â€œAnd your casualties would have been a whole lot worse if we hadn’t come around!” Abigail snapped.
    The rider glared at Abigail for a moment before shifting his eyes to Clint.
    â€œShe’s got a point,” Clint said with a shrug.
    Letting out a frustrated grunt, the man asked, “Who the hell are you two, anyway?”
    â€œI’m Clint Adams and this is Abigail.”
    Once the man turned his back to Clint and walked over to the rider who’d been recently wounded, Clint climbed down from his saddle and motioned for Abigail to follow him. The other two riders helped the third from his saddle, which was a job that went a lot quicker once Clint rushed forward to help.
    â€œWhat brought all of this on?” Clint asked as he helped lower the wounded man to the ground.
    The lead rider straightened his back and dusted himself off. It only took a few slaps on his shoulders to reveal the Army insignias stitched into his jacket. Now that he was closer to the men, Clint could see similar emblems embroidered onto all of the other men’s jackets. The driver and shotgunner tending to the dead horse hitched to the wagon appeared to be civilians.
    â€œWhat did it look like?” the lead rider asked. “It was an Indian attack.”
    â€œSo this is an Army shipment?” Clint asked.
    The man looked toward the wagon and took another deep breath. It seemed as if an entire day’s worth of fatigue settled onto him at that very instant. “Nothing official, but with all the trouble that’s been brewing, we’ve tried to escort as many such wagons as possible. Your help’s appreciated, Mister Adams. Both of you did a fine job.”
    â€œGood to know we won’t be hauled off to a stockade,” Clint said.
    Putting on a tired smile, the man extended his hand. “The name’s Sergeant Davis. If anyone tries to toss either of you into a stockade, you tell them I’ll personally have them drawn and quartered.”
    Clint shook Davis’s hand. “Are you stationed out of Fort Winstead?”
    â€œSometimes. We’re part of a special unit that goes where it’s needed.”
    â€œJust the three of you?”
    â€œThere were twelve of us at the start,” Davis replied. “It was down to four after a hell of a dustup in the mountains, and now we’re down to three.”
    Following Davis’s line of sight, Clint spotted a horse and rider lying in the dirt several paces from the wagon. Both of them were riddled with enough arrows to attach the man to his horse. “Sorry to hear that, Sergeant,” Clint said. “Looks like one of those Indians was killed as well.”
    Davis looked at another body that was stretched out and facedown on the ground. Long, black hair was slick with blood and several bullet wounds were scattered along the Indian’s body. “We got one and wounded another,” Davis said. “Still doesn’t seem like an even trade.”
    â€œWhat were they after?” Abigail asked. “Something that wagon’s carrying?”
    â€œWho the hell knows?” Davis replied. “As soon as we spotted them, they let their arrows fly and killed Aberman on the spot. When they came down to finish us off, we put up more fight than they were probably expecting, and then you two showed up.”
    â€œHe’s hurt bad, sir,” the young rider who was attending to the wounded man said. By the looks of him, he must have been in his teens when he’d first put on his uniform. Although this obviously wasn’t