William W. Johnstone by Savage Texas Read Free Book Online

many—gold coins.
    The search also yielded a pocket-watch. It was still ticking. Harper opened the watch. On the inside of the lid was an oval miniature painting of a young woman, an attractive brunette. A couple of outlaws crowded in to take a look.
    “What’s that, Brock?”
    Harper shrugged. “I dunno. His sweetheart, maybe. Pretty gal.”
    “Let’s see,” somebody said.
    Harper closed the watchcase lid with a snap. The money he pocketed.
    “What happened to sharing out the profits equally like we always do?” asked Kimbro, frowning fiercely.
    “That’s my bonus for nearly getting shot by my own compadres,” Harper said.
    “I ran the same risk,” Kimbro said, “so I’ll take the watch.”
    Harper shrugged massive shoulders. He tossed Kimbro the watch. Kimbro snatched it out of the air. “Thanks,” he said.
    A number of outlaws rushed toward the bodies. Harper barked at them, “Back off, you buzzards!”
    The others halted in mid-stride.
    “Me and Kimbro took ours off the top as a bonus for running the extra risk. The rest of the spoils will be handled in an orderly fashion. Dump it all in a hat and we’ll divvy up later at the hideout,” Harper said.
    He knew his men. They were like kids, greedy kids. A full-course meal was laid out on the table and all they could think of was getting their grubby hands on the penny candy. Whatever pittance lay in the pockets of the dead men was as nothing compared to the wagon’s cargo. But if the badmen didn’t have at it they’d be sore and bellyaching. Better to get it over with now, the quicker to get at the real job at hand.
    “Get to it and make it fast, we haven’t got all day,” Harper said. “And remember—anybody dragging down loot for himself is robbing the rest of you. Having you scavengers watching each other is the best way to keep you honest—you should pardon the expression,” he went on, chuckling to himself.
    The outlaws fell on the corpses like starving dogs on a juicy bone. They turned out the dead men’s pockets, divesting them of their valuables, such as they were. They weren’t much.
    Something tugged on Harper’s sleeve. “What do you want, Fenner?” he asked.
    “What about me, Brock?”
    “What about you?”
    “I deserve something, I took a risk, too.”
    Harper laughed, without humor. “Risk? You were safe here on the far side of the creek while Kimbro and me were in the thick of it.”
    “Aw, Brockie, don’t be like that . . .”
    “Shaddup.” Fenner wore a high-crowned hat. Harper snatched it off his head.
    “Hey! What’re you doing?!—”
    “Take it easy, Fenner. This hat of yours will fit the bill,” Harper said. He turned it upside-down. “Here, men, put the loot in Fenner’s hat. Anybody holds out, I’ll shoot him. And make it quick! There’s work to do and daylight’s burning.”
    Scavenging the dead men’s pockets yielded a meager take. “Them soldier boys don’t carry much in the way of hard currency,” somebody said.
    “Pay’s almost as little as cow punching,” another groused.
    The corpses’ yield of money, watches and such was not enough to fill the inside of Fenner’s hat to the brim.
    “Kaw, get up here,” Harper said. Kaw came forward. He was a full-blooded Kiowa, an outcast from his tribe who now rode the outlaw trail. Harper handed him the hat filled with loot.
    “Take care of this, Kaw. Put it in your saddlebag,” Harper said.
    “Why him, Brock?” somebody asked.
    “Because he’s the only honest man here. Everybody knows Kaw’s not in it for the loot, but for the pure hell of it. He’s the only one you can trust not to steal from you because he doesn’t give a damn about money.”
    Nods and murmurs from the men indicated their general agreement with the statement.
    “Stow it away now, Kaw. We’ve already wasted too much time on this chicken feed,” said Harper.
    “Every little bit helps, Brock,” Kimbro said.
    Kaw turned, starting down the trail toward where the