voice trailed away as he looked up at Dornie Shaw. The soft brown eyes were bright and boyish.
"Why, boss," he said softly, dropping his cigarette and rubbing it out with his toe, "I reckon that's where I come in. Leave McLennon to me. hunt him down before sun sets tomorrow."
"Want company?" Poinsett asked.
"Don't need it," Shaw said, "but come along. I hear this Bob McLennon used to be a frontier marshal. I never liked marshals noway."
They drifted to their horses, then moved slowly away. Dornie Shaw, Poinsett and Goff toward the west and Bob McLennon. Alton Burwick, his eyes thoughtful, headed toward the east and Mustang. With him rode the others. Only Fessenden turned nervously and looked back. "We should have made sure they were dead."
"Ride back if you want," Clauson said. "They are dead all right. That Kedrick! I had no use for him. I aimed my shot right for his smart skull."
Afternoon drew on. The sun lowered, and after the sun came coolness. Somewhere a coyote lifted his howl of anguish to the wide white moon and the desert lay still and quiet beneath the sky.
In the deeper shadow of the towering Chimney and its bulkier neighbor there was no movement. A coyote, moving nearer, scented the blood, bu t with it there was the dreaded man smell. He whined anxiously and drew back, then trotted slowly off, turning only once to look back. The palouse, still ground-hitched, walked along the grass toward the pool, then stopped, nostrils wide at the smell of blood.
Well down behind some rocks and brush, the shooting had only made it lift its head, then return to cropping the thick green grass that grew in the tiny sub-irrigated area around the Chimney. Nothing more moved. The coolness of the night stiffened the dried blood and stiffened the bodies of the men who lay sprawled there.
Ten miles north Laredo Shad, late for his meeting with Kedrick, limped along the trail leading a badly lamed horse. Two hours before, the trail along an arroyo bank had given way and the horse had fallen. The animal's leg was not broken, but was badly injured. Shad swore bitterly and walked on, debating as he had for the past. two hours on the advisability of camping for the night. But remembering that Kedrick would be expecting him, he pushed on.
An hour later, still plodding and on blistered feet, he heard horse's hoofs and drew up, slipping his rifle into his hands. Then the rider materialized from the night, and he drew up also. For a long minute no word was said, then Shad spoke. "Name yourself, pardner."
The other rider also held a gun. "Bob McLennon," he said. "Who are you?"
"Laredo Shad. My horse lamed hisself. Fm headed for Chimney Rock. S'pose to meet Kedrick there." He stared at the rider. "Thought you was to be at the meetin'? What happened?" d idn't make it. Steelman an' Slagle went. I'm ridin' up here because they never come in."
"What?" Shad's exclamation was sharp. "McLennon, I was right afeared o' that. My bet is there's been dirty work. Nevah trusted that there Burwick, not no way."
McLennon studied the Texan, liking the man, but hesitant. "What's your brand read, Laredo? You a company man?"
Shad shook his head. "Well, now, it's like this. I come in here drawin' warrior pay to do some gun slingin', but I'm a right uppity sort of a gent about some things. This here didn't size up right to me, nor to Kedrick, so we been figurin' on gettin' shut of the company. Kedrick only stayed on hopin' he could make peace. I stayed along with him."
"Get up behind me," McLennon said. "My horse will carry double an' it ain't far."
Chapter X
HIS eyes were -o pen a long time before realization came, and he was lying in a clean, orderly place with which he was totally unfamiliar. For a long time he lay there searching his memory for clues to tie all this together. He, himself. He was Captai n Tom Kedrick . . . he had gone west from New Orleans . . . he had taken on a job . . . then he remembered.
There had been a meeting at Chimney
"Why, boss," he said softly, dropping his cigarette and rubbing it out with his toe, "I reckon that's where I come in. Leave McLennon to me. hunt him down before sun sets tomorrow."
"Want company?" Poinsett asked.
"Don't need it," Shaw said, "but come along. I hear this Bob McLennon used to be a frontier marshal. I never liked marshals noway."
They drifted to their horses, then moved slowly away. Dornie Shaw, Poinsett and Goff toward the west and Bob McLennon. Alton Burwick, his eyes thoughtful, headed toward the east and Mustang. With him rode the others. Only Fessenden turned nervously and looked back. "We should have made sure they were dead."
"Ride back if you want," Clauson said. "They are dead all right. That Kedrick! I had no use for him. I aimed my shot right for his smart skull."
Afternoon drew on. The sun lowered, and after the sun came coolness. Somewhere a coyote lifted his howl of anguish to the wide white moon and the desert lay still and quiet beneath the sky.
In the deeper shadow of the towering Chimney and its bulkier neighbor there was no movement. A coyote, moving nearer, scented the blood, bu t with it there was the dreaded man smell. He whined anxiously and drew back, then trotted slowly off, turning only once to look back. The palouse, still ground-hitched, walked along the grass toward the pool, then stopped, nostrils wide at the smell of blood.
Well down behind some rocks and brush, the shooting had only made it lift its head, then return to cropping the thick green grass that grew in the tiny sub-irrigated area around the Chimney. Nothing more moved. The coolness of the night stiffened the dried blood and stiffened the bodies of the men who lay sprawled there.
Ten miles north Laredo Shad, late for his meeting with Kedrick, limped along the trail leading a badly lamed horse. Two hours before, the trail along an arroyo bank had given way and the horse had fallen. The animal's leg was not broken, but was badly injured. Shad swore bitterly and walked on, debating as he had for the past. two hours on the advisability of camping for the night. But remembering that Kedrick would be expecting him, he pushed on.
An hour later, still plodding and on blistered feet, he heard horse's hoofs and drew up, slipping his rifle into his hands. Then the rider materialized from the night, and he drew up also. For a long minute no word was said, then Shad spoke. "Name yourself, pardner."
The other rider also held a gun. "Bob McLennon," he said. "Who are you?"
"Laredo Shad. My horse lamed hisself. Fm headed for Chimney Rock. S'pose to meet Kedrick there." He stared at the rider. "Thought you was to be at the meetin'? What happened?" d idn't make it. Steelman an' Slagle went. I'm ridin' up here because they never come in."
"What?" Shad's exclamation was sharp. "McLennon, I was right afeared o' that. My bet is there's been dirty work. Nevah trusted that there Burwick, not no way."
McLennon studied the Texan, liking the man, but hesitant. "What's your brand read, Laredo? You a company man?"
Shad shook his head. "Well, now, it's like this. I come in here drawin' warrior pay to do some gun slingin', but I'm a right uppity sort of a gent about some things. This here didn't size up right to me, nor to Kedrick, so we been figurin' on gettin' shut of the company. Kedrick only stayed on hopin' he could make peace. I stayed along with him."
"Get up behind me," McLennon said. "My horse will carry double an' it ain't far."
Chapter X
HIS eyes were -o pen a long time before realization came, and he was lying in a clean, orderly place with which he was totally unfamiliar. For a long time he lay there searching his memory for clues to tie all this together. He, himself. He was Captai n Tom Kedrick . . . he had gone west from New Orleans . . . he had taken on a job . . . then he remembered.
There had been a meeting at Chimney
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