Wrath of the Savage by Charles G. West Read Free Book Online Page B

the other side of them trees, where I couldn’t see ’em. I’ll admit that I was a little drowsy, maybe, but I never went to sleep.”
    McCoy snorted derisively. “Ain’t no need to lie to me, Weaver. I don’t care, as long as I came outta that mess alive. Hell, I’da done the same as you, if I hadda been in your shoes.”
    Weaver grinned meekly. “You know how it is,” he said. “Look out for your own ass first.”
    â€œThat’s the way I see it,” McCoy agreed. “So right now we can go back and play the heroes. If we’re lucky, maybe the Injuns will take care of Hollister for us. I hope to hell he does catch up with ’em, ’cause that’ll be the end of that son of a bitch, and that big-ass scout, too. If they ask me where he is, I’ll just tell ’em I don’t know.”
    The idea appealed to Weaver. He hadn’t thought about playing the role of hero.
Leave it to McCoy . . . ,
he thought. “Hell, they might even give us a couple of medals,” he said, grinning at the thought. “Wouldn’t that be somethin’?” He paused then to look over the column of horses, a body across the saddle of each one. “How come you ain’t got an extra horse? That’s my horse.” He pointed to a red roan with Copeland’s body on it.
    â€œHollister took an extra horse with him and Coldiron,” McCoy said.
    â€œWell, I ain’t ridin’ back to Fort Ellis behind no damn dead man,” Weaver snorted. He walked back until he came to a horse carrying Sergeant Duncan’s body. “I’ll ride this’n,” he said, and dumped the sergeant’s body off on the road. “It was a pleasure servin’ under you, Sergeant,” he mocked as he dragged Duncan’s corpse off into the bushes. He stepped up into the saddle then, and the two heroes set out to lead their dead comrades back to the fort.

Chapter 3
    Having sent McCoy off that morning with the bodies of his fellow soldiers trailing behind him, Bret returned with Coldiron to pick up the trail of the retreating warriors. It wasn’t difficult to follow, and it led straight north. “They’re ridin’ to catch up with the rest of that war party,” Coldiron said. “Looks like they was more interested in catchin’ up than they were in hidin’ their trail.”
    â€œI doubt they think we’ll follow them, since they know how few we are,” Bret replied.
    â€œThey stayed on this side of the river,” Coldiron pointed out. “But if they’re goin’ where I think they’re headin’, they’re gonna be crossin’ over to the other side when the river turns back to the east. So we’ll just keep our eyes open to see where they crossed.”
    They continued to follow the trail left by the dozen or so horses as the Blackfoot warriors followed the Yellowstone, carrying their dead with them. As Coldiron had predicted, they made a crossing of the river where it took a large turn to the east on its way to join the Missouri. Coming out of the river on the north side, the tracks held to a steady course across rolling, sparsely treed plains.
    â€œIf they keep on in this direction, they’re headed for the Crazy Mountains,” Coldiron said. He pointed toward the rugged peaks, clearly seen, even though they were half a day’s ride away. “Hard to say what they’ve got in mind,” he went on. “Maybe they’re supposed to meet up with the bunch we’ve been trailin’ somewhere up in the mountains. Maybe they’ll stay clear of the mountains and go on up to the Musselshell. I reckon we’ll find out.”
    After a stop to eat something and let the horses rest, they were back in the saddle to resume their mission. Eventually the trail led them to a small pond, fed by a strong stream coming from the mountains. The Indians had followed