Outlaw Trackdown by Jon Sharpe Page A

you recollect what they were jawin’ about?”
    â€œRufus was upset that Abe and him had been picked to kill me while the rest of you were off taking it easy.”
    â€œHe was, was he?” Hoby said coldly.
    Rufus sat up in alarm. “I never said any such thing, Hoby. Honest to God I didn’t.”
    Fargo tried to remember their exact words. “Rufus said that he hated it. That you should be there helping.”
    â€œHe’s makin’ that up,” Rufus cried. He had broken out in a sweat and seemed to be tryin’ to shrink into his clothes.
    Hoby looked at Abe. “Did he or did he not say it?”
    â€œWell . . .” Abe said, and looked apologetically at Rufus. “I can’t lie to him, Rufus. Sorry.”
    â€œOh God,” Rufus said.
    Hoby tapped his chin and scrunched his brow. “What am I to do with you, Rufus? You grouse and you grouse, then you grouse some more.”
    â€œDon’t kill me,” Rufus said.
    â€œYou’re always complainin’. And now I find you talk about me behind my back.”
    â€œPlease,” Rufus pleaded. “I’ve stuck with you all this time. That should count for somethin’.”
    Hoby seemed to consider that. “You know, you’re right. I shouldn’t up and shoot you. I should let you prove yourself.”
    â€œProve me how?” Rufus asked.
    â€œBy doin’ what you were supposed to do in the first place and havin’ you kill the scout.”
    Rufus glowered at Fargo. “There’s nothin’ I’d like more.”

21
    Holding his wrists up, Rufus said, “Cut me loose, somebody, and I’ll do the bastard in.”
    Hoby turned to Granger, who drew a knife from a sheath on his hip and passed it over. Twirling it, Hoby grinned, and with precise slashes cut the ropes binding Rufus. “There you go.”
    Rufus held out his hand for the knife. “I’ll use that.”
    â€œNot so fast.” Hoby moved back a couple of steps and thoughtfully tapped his chin with the tip of the blade. “We should be fair about this.”
    â€œFair how?” Rufus said. “Why not just let me kill him?”
    â€œBecause I’ve been a mite bored today.” Hoby widened his eyes and made a face as if a great idea had occurred to him. “I know! Let’s have a knife fight.”
    â€œAs in him and me both have knives?” Rufus said.
    Semple and Granger laughed. Timbre Wilson continued to glare at Fargo. Abe Foreman appeared relieved that he wasn’t Rufus.
    â€œBoth of you have blades, yes,” Hoby said gleefully. “It wouldn’t be a knife fight if only one of you did.”
    â€œYou can’t do this to me,” Rufus said.
    Hoby cupped a hand to his ear. “What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t,” Rufus amended.
    â€œSomethin’ the matter?”
    â€œI’ve ridden with you all these years and you do this?”
    â€œRufus, Rufus, Rufus,” Hoby said. “You keep bringin’ that up as if it counts for somethin’. It doesn’t. It’s not what you’ve done in the past. It’s what you did to get my dander up.”
    â€œI tried to kill him like you wanted.”
    â€œOnly you gabbed when you shouldn’t have. He heard you. And worse, you were complainin’ about me.”
    â€œI didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Honest. You know how I gripe all the time. Abe was sayin’ earlier that I do too much of it for my own good.”
    Hoby looked at Abe and laughed. “We think alike, you and me. I’m as tired of it as you are.”
    â€œAs are we all,” Semple said.
    Rufus gnawed his lip and regarded them as if he’d never set eyes on them before. “I thought we were pards.”
    â€œWill you listen to yourself?” Hoby said. “Nothin’ has happened yet and you’re blubberin’ about it. I