the Riders Of High Rock (1993) by Louis - Hopalong 0 L'amour Page A
Authors: Louis - Hopalong 0 L'amour
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with them, and see what came of that. Frankness, he had learned, was disarming, and he might actually win Sue to his side. At least it was worth the chance while he was waiting for Sim Aragon to handle Cassidy for him.
He mounted up and rode off while Grat glared after him. The Breed and Slim were working over the well. "Get busy, you two!" Grat snarled. "The boss has ridden off and left this to us. A lot he cares if we never get a drink!"
Surprised, the others looked at him, and made more angry, he stalked off across the yard. He saddled his own horse, then stopped. Where would he go?
To the creek. It was not far off, and he could at least get a bucket of water there and fill all their canteens. He hesitated again. "How's it look, Slim?"
"Jammed up for fair. We'll have to bust the bucket, I reckon."
"Let it go till morning. Hitch up the team and load a couple of barrels. We'll go to the creek after water. That blasted Connors! That was him, and I know it! Nobody else could cut a rope at that distance."
Slim mopped the sweat from his face. "Don't reckon they could. He missed a couple himself. There's a bullet in the
frame and the shiv wheel has been jimmied up. That Connors, he's a whiz with a rifle."
"Get the barrels loaded. I'm scoutin' around a little. You head for the creek."
Jack Bolt rode on, following the winding trail towards the wide range of the 3TL. The farther he rode, the more he wondered if this was not the best way after all. He did not hesitate to admit the truth to himself. The gunfire and the hum of lead had done something to him. Four years or so of absence from gunfighting and killing had changed his thinking. Cowering on the floor, hearing the bullets punch through the walls of his cabin, knowing that any one of them could mean death, had put something into him that had gone clear to the bottom of his mind and his stomach. He did not like being shot at. When he was younger he had been heedless. He had believed the bullet had not been made that would kill him. Death had seemed fantastically far away.
It was always that way when you were young. Well, he was older now and knew that death was no respecter of persons. There had to be an easier way. He had brains, and it was time to use them.
The moon was rising when he came within sight of the 3TL buildings.
Chapter 10
Fight in the Badlands .
Circling the hot springs, Hopalong Cassidy walked the pa-louse back into the hills, keeping close watch on the country as he approached it. That an ambush might await him at any point, he was well aware. The horse he rode was one of the best he had ever ridden, but they had been on the move constantly now for some days, and he found himself wishing he was riding his favorite mount, the white gelding Topper.
The morning sun was bright and only beginning to grow warm. The tracks of the cattle were plainer now, and it was obvious that Pete and his men had caught up with the herd. Here and there a cow track partly obliterated one of the tracks Hopalong had memorized farther back along the trail.
Now the herd was in High Rock with its sheer walls towering four to five hundred feet above the trail. Rye grass grew along the floor of the canyon, which was narrow through much of its length but widening at intervals. Occasionally there were pools of water. Twice Hopalong allowed the palouse to crop the grass and drink while he scouted ahead on foot, alert for a trap. Here and there the old tracks of covered wagons were plainly visible, and in places had been gutted out and cut deeper by
rains. Suddenly, in a wide-open space overgrown with tall grass, Hopalong found that the trail had petered out.
Puzzled, he circled around. Here and there he found the tracks of a single animal or, in a few cases, of two or three, but the herd seemed to have vanished into the tall grass, growing saddle-high to the horse he rode. Suddenly Hopalong heard the sound of a calf bawling nearby!
Searching around, Hopalong first found an 8
He mounted up and rode off while Grat glared after him. The Breed and Slim were working over the well. "Get busy, you two!" Grat snarled. "The boss has ridden off and left this to us. A lot he cares if we never get a drink!"
Surprised, the others looked at him, and made more angry, he stalked off across the yard. He saddled his own horse, then stopped. Where would he go?
To the creek. It was not far off, and he could at least get a bucket of water there and fill all their canteens. He hesitated again. "How's it look, Slim?"
"Jammed up for fair. We'll have to bust the bucket, I reckon."
"Let it go till morning. Hitch up the team and load a couple of barrels. We'll go to the creek after water. That blasted Connors! That was him, and I know it! Nobody else could cut a rope at that distance."
Slim mopped the sweat from his face. "Don't reckon they could. He missed a couple himself. There's a bullet in the
frame and the shiv wheel has been jimmied up. That Connors, he's a whiz with a rifle."
"Get the barrels loaded. I'm scoutin' around a little. You head for the creek."
Jack Bolt rode on, following the winding trail towards the wide range of the 3TL. The farther he rode, the more he wondered if this was not the best way after all. He did not hesitate to admit the truth to himself. The gunfire and the hum of lead had done something to him. Four years or so of absence from gunfighting and killing had changed his thinking. Cowering on the floor, hearing the bullets punch through the walls of his cabin, knowing that any one of them could mean death, had put something into him that had gone clear to the bottom of his mind and his stomach. He did not like being shot at. When he was younger he had been heedless. He had believed the bullet had not been made that would kill him. Death had seemed fantastically far away.
It was always that way when you were young. Well, he was older now and knew that death was no respecter of persons. There had to be an easier way. He had brains, and it was time to use them.
The moon was rising when he came within sight of the 3TL buildings.
Chapter 10
Fight in the Badlands .
Circling the hot springs, Hopalong Cassidy walked the pa-louse back into the hills, keeping close watch on the country as he approached it. That an ambush might await him at any point, he was well aware. The horse he rode was one of the best he had ever ridden, but they had been on the move constantly now for some days, and he found himself wishing he was riding his favorite mount, the white gelding Topper.
The morning sun was bright and only beginning to grow warm. The tracks of the cattle were plainer now, and it was obvious that Pete and his men had caught up with the herd. Here and there a cow track partly obliterated one of the tracks Hopalong had memorized farther back along the trail.
Now the herd was in High Rock with its sheer walls towering four to five hundred feet above the trail. Rye grass grew along the floor of the canyon, which was narrow through much of its length but widening at intervals. Occasionally there were pools of water. Twice Hopalong allowed the palouse to crop the grass and drink while he scouted ahead on foot, alert for a trap. Here and there the old tracks of covered wagons were plainly visible, and in places had been gutted out and cut deeper by
rains. Suddenly, in a wide-open space overgrown with tall grass, Hopalong found that the trail had petered out.
Puzzled, he circled around. Here and there he found the tracks of a single animal or, in a few cases, of two or three, but the herd seemed to have vanished into the tall grass, growing saddle-high to the horse he rode. Suddenly Hopalong heard the sound of a calf bawling nearby!
Searching around, Hopalong first found an 8
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