Valley of the Gun (9781101607480) by Ralph W. Cotton Read Free Book Online Page B

that stood out, faintly, unbroken above the jumble of prints beneath them.
    â€œJesus . . . ,” he said.
    â€œI told you,” said Ragland. “Look long enough at the stride, you’ll see this lone rider is moving at a faster gallop than the ones he’s trailing.”
    â€œJesus . . . ,” Hall repeated, truly impressed. “I’m a lawman. How the hell do you know—?”
    â€œIndian blood.” Ragland cut him off, patting himself on the chest.
    â€œHorse dribble,” said Hall. But seeing the banker and the others encroach their horses a step closer, he shouted out at them, “Stay the hell back, Stone. You’re messing up this man’s tracking!”
    Smiling to himself, Ragland turned his horse forward on the trail. But before he could go ten feet, he saw two figures rise into sight among the rocks above them.
    â€œThere we are, Sheriff,” he said, pointing up at the Ranger and the woman who stood looking down at them, the Ranger with a hand raised in a show of peace.
    But Hall, looking up, taken by surprise, jerked his Colt from its holster. Sensing his panic, Hall’s horse reared with him. Startled, the sheriff let his cocked Colt fly from his hand, strike the ground and fire wildly near the already spooked horse’s hooves. Hall flew from his saddle, his foot twisted and stuck in the stirrup.
    Ragland sat staring in disbelief as the sheriff’s horse spun and bolted back toward the rest of the posse, the hapless sheriff bouncing, screaming and spinning along in the dirt beside it.

Chapter 5
    By the time Sam and Mattie Rourke had led their horses down through the rocks and stepped out onto the trail, the posse had gathered at a large rock and had Sheriff Hall sitting, leaned back against it. Sam looked down the trail at the gathered posse, then back at the scout, who had waited for him and the woman.
    â€œRagland,” the Ranger said as his only greeting.
    â€œRanger,” Ragland replied. He looked at the woman.
    â€œMattie,” Sam said, “this is Dee Ragland, a scout I’ve known for some time. Ragland, this is Mattie Rourke,” he added.
    Ragland touched his hat brim and said, “Ma’am.” Then he nodded toward the tracks on the trail and said to Sam, “I figure that’s you on top.”
    â€œYou figured right,” said Sam. “What got into that one?” He nodded toward Sheriff Hall as the three turned and started walking along the trail toward the others.
    â€œBeats me,” said Ragland. “I pointed you two out, and he went plumb nuts for a second.”
    â€œA second is all it takes out here,” said Sam.
    â€œLucky we’ve got your pal Sheriff DeShay with us,” said the scout. “He can take over from here.”
    â€œI expect he can at that,” said Sam. “Only he’s no pal of mine. I met him coming through Whiskey Bend. First time I ever laid eyes on him.”
    â€œHuh,” said Ragland. “He made it sound like you asked him to stay behind and wait for us, so we could be careful not to run upon you.” He looked at Sam. “You didn’t tell him that?”
    â€œYes, I did, in a way,” Sam said. He decided not to say any more about it right now. With the sheriff from Goble down, it would have to be DeShay who led the posse from here. Sam’s rule was to work alone; he didn’t want to break it.
    They walked on in silence.
    â€œHoly Mother Luck . . . !” Mattie said quietly, seeing what a mess the horse had made of Sheriff Hall as they drew closer.
    Hall’s hat lay on the ground beside him, its brim ripped almost off the crown. His left boot was missing, appearing to have been pulled off when he was dragged. His right boot had been cut off his swollen foot, and his foot was propped up on a small rock, already turning the color of fruit gone bad. A white piece of ankle bone shone through