Trigger Gospel by Harry Sinclair Drago Page A

grudges, not when they’re handed me by men who I thought was my friends!”
    â€œYou was never over particular about choosin’ yore friends,” Maverick muttered as he hovered over the fire. The bluntness and unfriendliness of the remark were without effect on Cherokee.
    â€œYou’re dead right there,” he drawled. “I used to think if a man was on the level with his pals that it didn’t matter what else he was. But I’m learnin’. Somethin’ will be done about it, too, whether I tag along with you boys or go it alone.”
    â€œThat’s for you to decide,” said Little Bill. “I’d like to know your answer.”
    â€œI’d give it to you in a second if I thought I could hold up my end. But you see the shape I’m in. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much good to you.”
    Cherokee could not have said anything better calculated to improve their opinion of him. An immediate evidence of better feeling was reflected in Maverick’s tone as he told the Kid to come and get it.
    â€œIt ain’t much,” he said, “but you’ll find it fillin’.”
    Cherokee did not have to be asked a second time.
    â€œSee him put it away!” Latch chuckled. “I tell yuh he’s as tough as bull hide. Three, four days from now he’ll be as sassy as ever.”
    â€œBut that’ll be three or four days,” Cherokee said between mouthfuls. “I understood you to say that these boys was movin’ right away. If that’s the case they may be throwin’ lead by this time tomorrow. I take it they know where to look for the Sontags.”
    It called for an answer and Luther and the others waited for Little Bill to voice it.
    â€œIt is a fact we are pullin’ away from here this afternoon,” said he, “but we’re just goin’ to take it easy and drift up to the Kansas line. The Sontags don’t figger in our plans until we finish a little business we got ahead of us.”
    Cherokee’s answer was a wide grin. Whether he was pleased or relieved it was impossible to tell, for his grin was a tell-nothing parting of the lips that left his swart face an inscrutable mask.
    â€œThat sounds suspiciously like business with a bank,” he remarked flippantly.
    â€œI reckon it’ll git to that,” Little Bill snapped out, his tone sharp enough to be a rebuke. “I aim to go over the line by myself. The rest will hide out somewhere. I may be gone a day or two. When I git back we’ll know what we’re goin’ to do.”
    â€œIf Jake Creek is in the general direction you’re headin’ for,” Latch spoke up, “we won’t have no trouble about keepin’ under cover and gittin’ some grub. We can go to Reb Leflett’s ranch. I’ve done business with him. He’ll take us in and we can make a deal for a hoss or two.”
    â€œThat’ll work out all right,” Bill said thoughtfully. He spoke as though his plans were more definite than he cared to say. “I know just about where Leflett’s place is located. If we leave here in the next hour we ought to be on Jake Creek soon after sun up.”
    â€œEasy enough!” Latch assured him.
    Little Bill turned to the Kid.
    â€œWhat have yuh got to say to that, Cherokee? Is it too much ridin’ for yuh?”
    â€œI can make it as far as the creek, all right,” the latter replied readily. “I know Latch is dead set on throwin’ in with you boys. Suppose I trail along with you as far as Leflett’s place. If my laig ain’t right by the time you’re ready to pull out from there, why, just leave me behind. That ought to work out about right for all of us.”
    Again he had said the right thing. No one could find fault with what he proposed.
    They smoked another cigarette or two and then began to break camp. Traveling as light as they were it was the work of only a few