North of Laramie. William W. Johnstone

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СКАЧАТЬ you want to head south, Mr. Bowman, feel free to do so, but me and mine’ll continue north the way the tracks lead us. Chico’s got a good bead on them, and I’m given to trusting his instinct. But before you go, you’ll pay us that money you claim to have.”

      “Like hell I will,” Bowman said. “If we split up, you’ll get paid when you bring back Trammel and Hagen to the BF. Dead or alive makes no difference to us, so long as we can see they’re dead with our own eyes.”

      Lefty looked behind him at his men. They were riding in one group, while the three BF hands brought up the rear. Walt the cousin was in between the two groups.

      His men looked at him, silently telling him they’d back his play no matter what. The only one missing was Chico, who’d ridden ahead of the group a few miles to scout for them. He knew Chico wasn’t the independent sort. He’d support Lefty whatever he decided to do.

      “If we split,” Lefty said, “we’ll need money for expenses. For outfitting, see? We’re out here on your dime and your say-so. You’ve told us you’ve got the money, but we ain’t seen a cent of it yet. Layin’ eyes on it could go a long way to settling our nerves.”

      “Settlin’ nerves,” Parrot said. “Long way.”

      Matt Bowman brought his horse alongside Lefty’s. “Are you calling me a liar, sir?”

      Lefty wouldn’t look at the man and kept his pace. “Just said we ain’t seen the money you claim to have is all. Layin’ eyes on it would go a long way to puttin’ my men at ease, not to mention makin’ your talkin’ that much easier to tolerate on as long a trail as this one’s turning out to be.”

      “I’ve got the money, by God,” Bowman said. “Right here with me. No man has ever questioned my word before and I’ll be damned if I’ll allow the likes of a saddle tramp like you to question it now.”

      Lefty had heard just about as much as he could stand of the rancher. “Then be damned.”

      He drew his Colt from his belly holster and fired into Matt Bowman’s chest at point-blank range.

      The rancher tumbled backward off his horse, his shirt aflame, and landed on the ground.

      The three Bowman ranch hands at the rear of the pack bolted back down the trail, leaving the packhorses behind. Hooch, Skinner, and Parrot took off after the fleeing men without Lefty having to say a word.

      Only Walt Bowman remained; man and horse frozen where they stood on the trail.

      Walt said, “You shot him.”

      “He deserved it.” Lefty turned his mount and aimed the Colt at Walt. “And so will you if you lied to us about that money, boy.”

      “He’s got it on him,” Walt said. “In his saddlebags. Saw my grandpa give it to him the night before we hired you boys.”

      “Unbuckle your gun belt and drop it over the left side.” Lefty aimed the pistol at his head. “Do it real slow.”

      Walt never took his eyes off his cousin’s body as he obeyed Lefty’s commands, then held his hands up high. “I don’t want no trouble, Lefty.”

      Hanover didn’t think he did. “Now climb down and find them gold pieces on your cousin’s person.”

      He kept the Colt trained on Walt as the younger Bowman stepped over his cousin’s body to where the horse had trotted off and searched the saddlebags. He held the purse aloft as he grabbed the horse’s bit. “Here it is, Lefty. Just like Uncle Matt said.”

      “Fetch it over here, now. That gelding, too, while you’re at it.” His own horse was played out by the long, hard ride up from Texas, and he could use a fine mount like Bowman’s. The dead man wouldn’t have any further use for it anyway.

      He watched Walt as the boy did as he was told. He thought about whether or not he should shoot him now or keep him around. The boy hadn’t done anything when Lefty had gunned down his cousin. There could be a dozen reasons why and all of them might prove useful as they ran down Trammel and the gambler. Even idiots had their purpose, as evidenced by Parrot’s continued and unexplainable existence.

      He took the purse Walt handed up to him. Lefty knew by the heft of it that Bowman had been telling the truth, but life had told him it paid to be cautious. Keeping the Colt on Walt, Lefty pulled open the purse strings with his teeth and looked inside. Ten gleaming coins winked back at him. One thousand dollars. The most money John “Lefty” Hanover had ever seen in his life was now in the palm of his hand.

      His joy was interrupted by three gunshots echoing from somewhere down the trail.

      Lefty pulled the strings closed with his teeth and tucked the purse inside his filthy shirt. “Sounds like you’re the last man from the BF ranch standing.”

      Walt tried to put on a brave face. “Could be the other way around. Our men can handle themselves.”

      Lefty thumbed back the hammer on the Colt. “You really believe that, boy?”

      “No. I guess I don’t. And I hope I won’t meet the same fate as them, Lefty. I’d like to join up with you if you’d be kind enough to have me.”

      Lefty grinned. “You mean you’d turn on your own kin after everything we done?”

      “My kin never thought much of me, and the feeling was mutual,” Walt said. “Guess I’ve got just as much right here as I’ve got waiting for me back at the BF. Maybe more. Hell, they were never going to let me run that ranch anyway.”

      Lefty eased back on the hammer and tucked the Colt away. Yes, maybe young Walt Bowman could be useful after all.

      Lefty turned when he heard a rider coming back from the north. It was Chico, and he was smiling. “You better ride up here and take a look at this, boss man. Looks like Trammel and his friend did some of our killing for us. Got two dead men at an old campsite up ahead.”

      He looked down at Matt Bowman’s body on the trail. “What happened here?”

      Lefty stepped down from his horse and took the reins from Walt. Yes, it was a good mount indeed. “What you see here is progress, Chico. Plain, old-fashioned progress.”

      CHAPTER 11

      After three days of good travel and harsh nights of bitter cold, Trammel and Hagen finally led their team of horses into Nebraska. Winter had already lost its grip on the land, but the air was much colder than Trammel would have liked it to be.

      “So this is Nebraska,” Trammel said aloud as they rode along. The land was as flat as it was plain. “By God.”

      “Kansas isn’t exactly a bustling metropolis, my friend,” Hagen said. “You’ll find our passage will be quieter here, as long as we keep our heads about us.”

      “We been doing anything but that since we left Wichita?”

      “I’m afraid more vigilance will be required of us in these parts, for there are many trials we may face on the trail to Ogallala.”

      “Like what?”

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