Trail Of the Apache and Other Stories (1951) by Elmore Leonard Page A
Authors: Elmore Leonard
Ads: Link
they'd see'd be shadow.
You sure it was them, Gosh? I asked him.
Charlie, Gosh said, I got a picture in my head, and it's stuck there 'cause I never expected to see one like it. It's a picture of Jack and Joe Anthony riding into Magenta the same way a month ago. When you see something that's different or hadn't ought to be, it sticks in your head. And they was on the same mounts, Charlie.
Emmett went over to his dun mare and tightened the cinch like he wanted to keep busy and show us everything was going the same. But he was just fumbling with the strap, you could see that. His head swung around a few inches. Jack look all right?
Gosh turned his cup upside down and a few drops of coffee trickled down to the ashes at his feet. I don't know, Em. How is a man who's just stole a hundred head of beef supposed to look?
Emmett jerked his body around and the face was closed again for the first time in a week, tight and redder than usual. Then his jaw eased and his big hands hanging at his sides opened and closed and then went loose. Emmett didn't have anything to The Rustlers grab. Some of the others were looking at Gosh Hall and probably wondering why the little rider was making it so hard for Em.
Emmett asked him, Did you see Butzy?
He didn't ride in. I 'magine he's out with the herd. Gosh looked around. Neal still out, huh?
Neal Whaley had gone in earlier with Gosh, then split off over to where they were holding the herd, just north of Anton Chico. Neal was to watch and tell us if they moved them. Emmett figured they were holding the herd until a buyer came along.
There were a lot of buyers in New Mexico who didn't particularly care what the brand read, but Emmett said they were waiting for a top bid or they would have sold all the stock before this.
Ned Bristol and Lloyd Cohane got up and stretched and then just stood there awkwardly looking at the dead fire, their boots, and each other.
Lloyd pulled a blue bandanna from his coat pocket and wiped his face with it, then folded it and straightened it out thin between his fingers before tilting his chin up to tie it around his neck. Ned pushed his gun belt down lower on his hips and watched Emmett.
Dobie Shaw, the kid in our outfit, went over to his mount and pulled his Winchester from the boot and felt in the bag behind the saddle for a box of cartridges. Dobie had to do something too.
Ben Templin was older; he'd been riding better than thirty years. He eased back to the ground with his hands behind his head tilting his hat over his face and waited. Ben had all the time in the world.
Everybody was going through the motions of being natural, but fidgeting and acting restless and watching Emmett at the same time because we all knew it was time now, and Emmett didn't have any choice. That was what forced Emmett's hand, though we knew he would have done it anyway, sooner or later. But maybe we looked a little too anxious to him, when it was only restlessness. It was a long ride from Tascosa. A case of let's get it over with or else go on home one way or the other, regardless of whose brother stole the cows.
Gosh Hall scratched the toe of his boot through the sand, kicking it over the ashes of the dead fire.
About that time, ain't it, Em?
Emmett exhaled like he was very tired. Yeah, it's about that time. He looked at every face, slowly, before turning to his mare.
It's roughly a hundred and thirty miles from Tascosa, following the Canadian, to Trementina on the Conchas, then another thirty-five miles south, swinging around Mesa Montosa to Anton Chico, on the Pecos. Counting detours to find water holes and trailing the wrong sign occasionally, that's about two hundred miles of sun, wind, and New The Rustlers Mexico desert and all to bring back a hundred head of beef owned by a Chicago company that tallied close to a quarter million all over the Panhandle and north-central Texas.
The western section of the TX Company was headquartered at Sudan that year, with most of the
You sure it was them, Gosh? I asked him.
Charlie, Gosh said, I got a picture in my head, and it's stuck there 'cause I never expected to see one like it. It's a picture of Jack and Joe Anthony riding into Magenta the same way a month ago. When you see something that's different or hadn't ought to be, it sticks in your head. And they was on the same mounts, Charlie.
Emmett went over to his dun mare and tightened the cinch like he wanted to keep busy and show us everything was going the same. But he was just fumbling with the strap, you could see that. His head swung around a few inches. Jack look all right?
Gosh turned his cup upside down and a few drops of coffee trickled down to the ashes at his feet. I don't know, Em. How is a man who's just stole a hundred head of beef supposed to look?
Emmett jerked his body around and the face was closed again for the first time in a week, tight and redder than usual. Then his jaw eased and his big hands hanging at his sides opened and closed and then went loose. Emmett didn't have anything to The Rustlers grab. Some of the others were looking at Gosh Hall and probably wondering why the little rider was making it so hard for Em.
Emmett asked him, Did you see Butzy?
He didn't ride in. I 'magine he's out with the herd. Gosh looked around. Neal still out, huh?
Neal Whaley had gone in earlier with Gosh, then split off over to where they were holding the herd, just north of Anton Chico. Neal was to watch and tell us if they moved them. Emmett figured they were holding the herd until a buyer came along.
There were a lot of buyers in New Mexico who didn't particularly care what the brand read, but Emmett said they were waiting for a top bid or they would have sold all the stock before this.
Ned Bristol and Lloyd Cohane got up and stretched and then just stood there awkwardly looking at the dead fire, their boots, and each other.
Lloyd pulled a blue bandanna from his coat pocket and wiped his face with it, then folded it and straightened it out thin between his fingers before tilting his chin up to tie it around his neck. Ned pushed his gun belt down lower on his hips and watched Emmett.
Dobie Shaw, the kid in our outfit, went over to his mount and pulled his Winchester from the boot and felt in the bag behind the saddle for a box of cartridges. Dobie had to do something too.
Ben Templin was older; he'd been riding better than thirty years. He eased back to the ground with his hands behind his head tilting his hat over his face and waited. Ben had all the time in the world.
Everybody was going through the motions of being natural, but fidgeting and acting restless and watching Emmett at the same time because we all knew it was time now, and Emmett didn't have any choice. That was what forced Emmett's hand, though we knew he would have done it anyway, sooner or later. But maybe we looked a little too anxious to him, when it was only restlessness. It was a long ride from Tascosa. A case of let's get it over with or else go on home one way or the other, regardless of whose brother stole the cows.
Gosh Hall scratched the toe of his boot through the sand, kicking it over the ashes of the dead fire.
About that time, ain't it, Em?
Emmett exhaled like he was very tired. Yeah, it's about that time. He looked at every face, slowly, before turning to his mare.
It's roughly a hundred and thirty miles from Tascosa, following the Canadian, to Trementina on the Conchas, then another thirty-five miles south, swinging around Mesa Montosa to Anton Chico, on the Pecos. Counting detours to find water holes and trailing the wrong sign occasionally, that's about two hundred miles of sun, wind, and New The Rustlers Mexico desert and all to bring back a hundred head of beef owned by a Chicago company that tallied close to a quarter million all over the Panhandle and north-central Texas.
The western section of the TX Company was headquartered at Sudan that year, with most of the
Similar Books
