flight. Cord didnât wait. Plunging out of the screen of bushes, he ran up the bank to get a clear shot at the fleeing animals, knowing he would have time for only one before they were out of range. He would have preferred a doe, but the best target he had was a young buck right behind the older leader. Cocking the rifle as he dropped to one knee, he took aim quickly and squeezed the trigger. The buck stumbled momentarily, wobbled drunkenly for a few more yards, before collapsing to the ground.
âHot damn!â Dooley exclaimed. âThat was a helluva shot! I swear, Iâd already give up on havinâ venison for dinner.â He was satisfied that he would never have to ask again if Cord could handle a rifle. As for Cord, he held no illusions. He chalked it up for a lucky shot under the circumstances, but he saw no reason to volunteer that to his traveling companion. Like Dooleyâs, his belly was grumbling for lack of attention and he was relieved that he would not have to hear it for much longer.
âWas you japinâ me when you said you ainât ever shot that rifle before?â Dooley asked while they were skinning the deer.
âNope,â Cord replied. âThat was the first time. I just traded an old Henry rifle for it, and I ainât had a chance to see how it shoots till now.â
âKinda like I just traded for that buckskin,â Dooley said with a mischievous grin.
âYeah,â Cord replied, âkinda like that.â He thought it wouldnât be a bad idea to let Dooley think he stole the rifle. It might further satisfy the old outlaw that Cord was of the same stock as his father and the apple had not fallen far from the tree.
They delayed their trip a day to butcher the deer and smoke the greater portion of it over a fire to be tied up in packs. Dooley feasted on the liver and heart, while Cord contented himself with the animalâs flesh. The liver and heart were considered delicacies by most, especially Indians, but Cord would only eat the insides of an animal if starvation was the alternative. By the end of the day, both men were sufficiently sated. With bellies full, they turned in by the fire to give their overworked stomachs time to digest.
Ready to begin anew with morningâs first light, they continued their westward journey, crossing a sizable creek that Dooley called Owl Creek, then another about five miles past that he couldnât call by name. Lofty mountains loomed in the distance, their snowcapped peaks testament to the fact that winter was already in the higher elevations. In spite of the weighty issues on his mind, Cord could not help a natural feeling of awe and an awakening of a latent desire to know their peaks and valleys. His mind, set adrift by the majesty of the distant horizon, was drawn back to his reality by a comment from Dooley.
âI expect we ainât moreân a couple of miles from the road into Fort Collins,â he said. âLast chance to get some more coffee beans before we go up the river into the mountains.â
âI reckon we could,â Cord said. âBut it might be the last coffee weâll buy, âcause Iâm runninâ short of money.â
âI need to do a little shoppinâ myself,â Dooley said. His comment brought an immediate reaction in the form of a questioning face on his partner. âI didnât say I had any money to buy anythinâ,â Dooley quickly explained. âIâm just curious about whatâs for sale.â He flashed a wide grin to reassure Cord. âIf I had a cent on me, Iâda sure kicked in to buy some of the supplies.â Cordâs response was no more than a grunt. He was becoming accustomed to Dooleyâs nonsensical remarks. Dooley went on. âIt ainât a good idea to ride on into Fort Collinsâtoo big a risk of somebody wantinâ to ask a lot of questions. But thereâs a saloon and a general store on
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