The Collected Short Stories of Louis L'Amour, Volume 1 by Louis L’Amour Read Free Book Online Page B

striking at the skinny hand. “Go to hell,” he said coldly.
    Rydberg grabbed at him, lost balance, and fell heavily into the sand. He struggled to get up, then fell again.
    Rodelo looked at him. His own canteen was empty. “The damn fool,” Isager said, “why didn’t he get him a hat?”
    Nobody else spoke. Then Otteson reached for the canteen on Rydberg’s horse, but Isager was closer and unhurriedly appropriated it. He also took the rifle. “Take the horse if you like,” he said, “you’re a heavy man.”
    Otteson glared at Isager, and Rodelo moved in and took the gold. “Are you going to leave him here like that?” he demanded.
    Otteson shrugged. “He asked for it.”
    â€œHe wouldn’t live until night,” Isager said. “Stay if you want.”
    Rodelo drew Rydberg into the shade of an ironwood tree. Then he mounted and followed. Why had they grabbed the empty canteen and the rifle when they could have gotten their hands on Rydberg’s share of the gold?
    A thin shadow of doubt touched him. Then the answer was plain and he cursed himself for a fool. Nearly two hundred gold coins he now carried, and it was considerable weight. They preferred that he carry the extra gold until … His jaw set hard, but within him there was a cold shock of fear.
    They thought he was going to die! They thought—He’d show them. From deep within him came a hard burning defiance. He’d show them.
    It had been midafternoon when they left Rydberg. It was two hours later when they came up to Coyote Peak. Otteson was studying the rocks around and suddenly he turned sharply left and rode into an arroyo. Twenty minutes later they stood beside the
tinaja
.
    Despair mounted within Rodelo. It was only a hollow of rock with a few gallons of water in the bottom. They filled their canteens, then watered the horses. When the horses had finished the water was gone.
    â€œWe’ll rest a few hours,” Isager suggested, “then go on after dark.”
    Isager ignored the shade and lay down on his side with his face toward the two men and his weapons and water close behind him.
    Rodelo found a spot in soft sand, well back in the shadow of the rocks. He stared at the others and thought exhaustion had made them stupid. Both had relaxed upon hard, rocky ground. The least move would awaken them. They would get no rest that way. While this was soft sand.… He relaxed luxuriously.
    He awakened with a start. It was cold, dark, and silent. With sudden panic, he sprang to his feet. “Isager!” he shouted. “Ott!” And the desert gave back only echoes. He felt for his canteen, and it was gone. He ran to where his horse had been picketed, and it, too, was gone.
    He had slept and they had left him. They had taken the gold, the horse, the canteen … only his pistol remained. He had that only because they had feared to awaken him.
    He rushed to a rise of ground, scrambled, slipped on the rocks, and skinned his knees. Then he got to the top and stared off to the southeast. All he could see was the soft, velvety darkness, the cool of the desert night, and the unspeaking stars.
    He was alone.
    For the first time he was frightened. He was horribly, unspeakably frightened. Rodelo hated being alone, he feared loneliness, and he knew the power of the desert to kill.
    Then his fear left him, his thoughts smoothed out and the panic ended. They could not move fast without knowing the country better than they did. They would travel at a walk, and if they did, he might overtake them. He was younger than either, and he was strong. He had never found a trial that could test his endurance.
    A glance at the stars told him they could have no more than an hour’s start. How much would that mean at night in unfamiliar desert? Three miles? Five miles?
    Doubt came. Could he make up the distance? They would never suspect pursuit. Suppose the day came and