Colt.
I jumped forward. My arm flexed, and my Colt was in my hand. I aimed effortlessly and pulled the trigger. Flame and smoke exploded from the barrel, and I heard a thumping sound as my bullet hit flesh.
Brock had fired too, but my slight movement forward threw his aim off. I felt the sharp whip of a bullet as it fanned air close to my head, and then I saw Brock stagger backwards. He fell on his back, kicked out, and was still.
Meanwhile, the roar of gunfire was all around me. I glanced sideways, and Brian stood there with his rifle in his hands. He had a wild look on his face, and his arm bled from a slug that had creased him.
Amos lay on the ground, choking and gasping for air.
“You all right?” I asked Brian.
He nodded.
“He nicked me, that’s all.”
I nodded, relieved, and we both reloaded our weapons. Then, we checked on the downed men.
Brock was dead. However, Amos was still alive, but not for long. Blood was choking him, and it ran out his mouth and down his cheek.
Brian and I squatted on our heels beside him.
“Help me, please,” Amos managed.
“Not much we can do,” I said as I studied the wounds. “You’ve got a bullet in your gut and another one in your chest.”
“I’m dying,” Amos whispered, and his eyes were wide with fright.
“Looks like it,” I agreed. It was silent, and I added, “You might as well answer a few questions. Where were you and Brock headed?”
Amos stared at me. A few seconds passed, and then his face relaxed.
“Bronc,” he said in a gasping whisper. “There’s rifles in the crates. We’re supposed to meet the Gant brothers.”
“Morgan and Boyle Gant?”
“Yes. They’re Ike’s partners.”
“And they’re trading rifles to the Injuns,” I figured, and Amos nodded.
I glanced thoughtfully at Brian and looked back at Amos. I started to ask another question, but then I stopped. His eyes had glazed over, and he was dead.
“Well,” I said as I stood. “That’s that.”
Chapter thirty-seven
Brian’s arm bled a little, but not bad. I had some bandages in my saddlebags, and I wrapped his arm good and tight.
After that we picketed our horses next to theirs, dug our cups out of our saddlebags, and walked over to the fire.
They had cooked some fried salt pork and biscuits. The biscuits were burned black, but the pork was still edible. We tossed the biscuits into the bushes, poured us some coffee, and sat round the fire and chewed on the pork.
We didn’t feel like talking much, so we ate in silence.
I always felt exhausted after a gunfight, and I also got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I glanced at Brian, and I could tell that he felt the same way.
“Well, we got the fellers that robbed us,” Brian finally said.
“We did,” I nodded.
“But this won’t get our hotel back.”
“No, it won’t,” I agreed.
“I wonder what happened to our money?”
“Ike probably has it.”
Brian nodded and looked around camp.
“What are we going to do now?” He asked.
“I’ve been pondering that,” I said. “You heard what Amos said. They were on their way to Bronc to meet Morgan and Boyle.”
“I heard that, yes.”
“I know Morgan. He’s a smart, educated feller, but he’s no good. He almost killed me once.”
“I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never met ’em.”
“They’ll have a long wait before they figure out that Brock and Amos aren’t coming,” I said, and I smiled at the thought.
“They probably will.”
“It would be a shame to keep them waiting,” I commented.
Brian looked at me over the rim of his coffee cup.
“What are you getting at?”
“Ike stole our business,” I said, and suggested, “Why don’t we steal his?”
Brian pinched his face in thought.
“That won’t get our hotel back either,” he pointed out.
“True,” I agreed, and then I started to add, “But, it’ll-.”
“Make you feel better,” Brian interrupted.
“That’s right.”
Brian gestured at Amos
I jumped forward. My arm flexed, and my Colt was in my hand. I aimed effortlessly and pulled the trigger. Flame and smoke exploded from the barrel, and I heard a thumping sound as my bullet hit flesh.
Brock had fired too, but my slight movement forward threw his aim off. I felt the sharp whip of a bullet as it fanned air close to my head, and then I saw Brock stagger backwards. He fell on his back, kicked out, and was still.
Meanwhile, the roar of gunfire was all around me. I glanced sideways, and Brian stood there with his rifle in his hands. He had a wild look on his face, and his arm bled from a slug that had creased him.
Amos lay on the ground, choking and gasping for air.
“You all right?” I asked Brian.
He nodded.
“He nicked me, that’s all.”
I nodded, relieved, and we both reloaded our weapons. Then, we checked on the downed men.
Brock was dead. However, Amos was still alive, but not for long. Blood was choking him, and it ran out his mouth and down his cheek.
Brian and I squatted on our heels beside him.
“Help me, please,” Amos managed.
“Not much we can do,” I said as I studied the wounds. “You’ve got a bullet in your gut and another one in your chest.”
“I’m dying,” Amos whispered, and his eyes were wide with fright.
“Looks like it,” I agreed. It was silent, and I added, “You might as well answer a few questions. Where were you and Brock headed?”
Amos stared at me. A few seconds passed, and then his face relaxed.
“Bronc,” he said in a gasping whisper. “There’s rifles in the crates. We’re supposed to meet the Gant brothers.”
“Morgan and Boyle Gant?”
“Yes. They’re Ike’s partners.”
“And they’re trading rifles to the Injuns,” I figured, and Amos nodded.
I glanced thoughtfully at Brian and looked back at Amos. I started to ask another question, but then I stopped. His eyes had glazed over, and he was dead.
“Well,” I said as I stood. “That’s that.”
Chapter thirty-seven
Brian’s arm bled a little, but not bad. I had some bandages in my saddlebags, and I wrapped his arm good and tight.
After that we picketed our horses next to theirs, dug our cups out of our saddlebags, and walked over to the fire.
They had cooked some fried salt pork and biscuits. The biscuits were burned black, but the pork was still edible. We tossed the biscuits into the bushes, poured us some coffee, and sat round the fire and chewed on the pork.
We didn’t feel like talking much, so we ate in silence.
I always felt exhausted after a gunfight, and I also got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I glanced at Brian, and I could tell that he felt the same way.
“Well, we got the fellers that robbed us,” Brian finally said.
“We did,” I nodded.
“But this won’t get our hotel back.”
“No, it won’t,” I agreed.
“I wonder what happened to our money?”
“Ike probably has it.”
Brian nodded and looked around camp.
“What are we going to do now?” He asked.
“I’ve been pondering that,” I said. “You heard what Amos said. They were on their way to Bronc to meet Morgan and Boyle.”
“I heard that, yes.”
“I know Morgan. He’s a smart, educated feller, but he’s no good. He almost killed me once.”
“I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never met ’em.”
“They’ll have a long wait before they figure out that Brock and Amos aren’t coming,” I said, and I smiled at the thought.
“They probably will.”
“It would be a shame to keep them waiting,” I commented.
Brian looked at me over the rim of his coffee cup.
“What are you getting at?”
“Ike stole our business,” I said, and suggested, “Why don’t we steal his?”
Brian pinched his face in thought.
“That won’t get our hotel back either,” he pointed out.
“True,” I agreed, and then I started to add, “But, it’ll-.”
“Make you feel better,” Brian interrupted.
“That’s right.”
Brian gestured at Amos
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