Trigger Gospel by Harry Sinclair Drago

without raising his voice. “That’s just a piece with Tas’s talk about the claybank bein’ bad luck. The sooner you git that sort of nonsense out of your heads the better off you’ll be. If there’s anybody here that don’t like my way of doin’ things he’s free to go; but if I’m givin’ orders, I’m a givin’ ’em. You bring Cherokee in, Latch.”
    After Shively left they continued to sit around the burned-out fire. They had shifted their position, however, until Little Bill sat alone. He was aware of it and what it meant. Conversation had died long since. It did not appear to disturb him.
    â€œSo you’ve got it all figgered out that I’m makin’ a mistake, eh?” he queried without warning. “Appears to me it’s about time you boys began to use your heads.”
    He spoke without a trace of rancor.
    â€œSome of us reckon that’s what you ought to be doin’,” Luther answered.
    â€œThat’s what I am doin’!” The red-haired one’s manner was suddenly hard as steel. “Latch will come in mighty handy. There can’t be no fault found with him. As for Cherokee—he ain’t foolin’ me for a second. He’ll double-cross us the first chance he gits.”
    â€œWhat!” several gasped in unison. They couldn’t understand him even yet.
    â€œYou mind explainin’ yourself?” Luther asked with a flash of temper.
    â€œIf it needs explainin’—no!" Little Bill shot back at him. “A man ain’t one thing today and somethin’ else tomorrow, and they don’t pal together unless they’re cut from the same pattern. I know Cherokee and Beaudry used to be mighty thick. I wouldn’t have to know anythin’ worse against him to put me on my guard. If you think I’d trust one any farther than I would the other, you’re plumb crazy I”
    It left them staring at him in tongue-tied surprise for a moment. Finally Link spoke.
    â€œThen why be yuh invitin’ him in?” he asked.
    â€œHe’s got information we need, that’s why. If he’s really gunnin’ for Beaudry and the Sontags he can tell us a lot. It’ll be up to us to decide whether he’s lyin’ or not … Just be smart enough not to let him know what we’re thinkin’. Keep your eyes on him right along. The first crooked move he makes will be his last.”

Chapter XII

    T HEY had to give Cherokee a hand to get him down from his horse. He thanked them with a grin that showed his even, white teeth. If Latch had apprised him that there was some feeling against him in the camp, he gave no sign of it.
    â€œThat laig is still pretty sore,” he said apologetically.
    He was tall and thin enough to be tubercular. His hair and eyes were as black as a raven’s wing. He claimed to be a quarter blood, but his features were all Indian.
    â€œShuffle up some food for this man, Maverick,” Little Bill suggested.
    Cherokee thanked him with another grin and proceeded to roll a cigarette. He did it deftly. There was a catlike suppleness about him that was noticeable even in the movement of his fingers.
    â€œI’ve told him a few things,” Latch volunteered. He jerked his head in the Kid’s direction. “He likes the idee.”
    â€œYeh, I do,” Cherokee drawled without bothering to look up, “specially if you’re settin’ yourselves for a showdown with certain parties. It runs right along with what I’ve had on my mind for a few months. I’ve been savin’ a place on my gun for a notch or two. I’ve got the gents all picked out, I don’t mind tellin’ yuh.”
    â€œI take it you’re referrin’ to Beaudry and Smoke,” Little Bill observed.
    â€œBeaudry and Smoke and the whole damn Sontag bunch!” Cherokee whipped out with sudden viciousness. “I don’t forget my