Those Jensen Boys! by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online

deserted. Nobody was waiting to ambush the Corcoran sisters and their stagecoach.
    That thought had barely had time to pass through his brain when shots blasted from the other side of the gap.

C HAPTER F IVE
    Chance was approaching a clump of boulders when he heard a rock rattle somewhere close by and then the clink of metal against stone. It was the only warning he had before somebody thrust a rifle barrel over the top of a big slab of rock and opened fire on him.
    He was already diving out of the saddle when the slugs sizzled through the space he had occupied a heartbeat earlier.
    He hit the ground hard, narrowly avoiding some cactus, and rolled over. The gun he carried in his shoulder holster, a .38 caliber Colt Lightning, was in his hand as he came back up on one knee. He triggered the double-action revolver twice at the rock where the bushwhacker was hiding, then surged up and dashed toward some nearby trees. His shots had made the hidden gunman duck momentarily, giving Chance enough time to reach cover, although a couple bullets kicked up dirt near his feet as he ran.
    He darted into the pines, twisted so that he was behind one of them, and pressed his shoulder against the rough-barked trunk, making himself as small a target as possible. Some of that bark leaped in the air as lead thudded into the tree. The ambusher’s bullets searched through the pines for Chance but failed to find him.
    That hombre probably thought he had him pinned down, Chance mused, but there was a wild card in this game. An Ace, to be precise, and he was taking a hand. Chance heard the sharp crack of his brother’s rifle from across the gap.
    Bullets smacked into rocks and spanged off as ricochets. The bushwhacker returned Ace’s fire. All of it blended together into a racket painful to the ears.
    Since Ace was keeping the rifleman busy, Chance risked moving up to the edge of the trees where he could see better. Gun smoke still rose from behind the rock where the bushwhacker was hidden. Chance thought that from his new location, he might be able to bounce a few slugs behind that slab of rock. He sighted carefully and squeezed off three swift rounds, emptying the Lightning.
    He drew back into better cover and reloaded the revolver with fresh cartridges from his pocket. He heard hoofbeats and looked up. A man on horseback, bent low in the saddle, was lunging up the slope toward some trees. The bushwhacker was lighting a shuck.
    Chance sent a couple bullets after him, but the horse never broke stride and the rider was still slashing at the animal with the reins as they disappeared into the trees. Chance didn’t know the terrain and wasn’t going to give chase on foot. It looked like the bushwhacking son of a gun was going to get away.
    As Chance was replacing the cartridges he had just fired, he heard another horse rattling up the slope.
    Ace shouted, “Chance! Where are you?”
    Chance stepped out of the trees and called, “Up here!” He saw that Ace had caught the cream-colored gelding and was leading it. “Be careful! That no-good bushwhacker might double back.”
    Ace had his Winchester in one hand as he rode on up the slope toward his brother. “We’ll make him sorry if he does.”
    Chance holstered the Lightning and looked around for his hat, which had flown off when he dived out of the saddle. He spotted it, picked it up, and flicked several pine needles off before he settled it on his head. By that time, Ace had reached him.
    Chance took the reins and swung up into the saddle. “I reckon you didn’t run into any trouble over on your side of the gap.”
    â€œPeaceful as can be over there, but as usual, you seem to have a way of attracting trouble.”
    Chance snorted in disgust. “Getting ambushed wasn’t my idea. I promise you that.”
    â€œWas there just one man?”
    â€œOnly one that I saw, and I never heard but one gun shooting at me. You think he was one