Part 35 (1/2)

Didn't happen, though.

Finally, we came to the livery stable at the far end of town. The proprietor, a fellow named Himmel, had seen us coming and had already sent his boys to fetch our horses. McSween settled accounts with him. Then we spent just forever, it seemed, fumbling about with our bridles and saddles and such. McSween finished before me, and mounted up. While I worked at tightening General's cinch, he sat up there high on his saddle and rolled himself a smoke.

I tied down my saddlebags, tied down my bedroll and slipped my Winchester into its boot. By the time I got done and climbed aboard, the others were all mounted and waiting for me.

We rode out onto the street.

What came next shouldn't have surprised me, not after what I'd seen of the gang so far.

There we were, at the very end of town. We had no reason at all to ride in the opposite direction.

That's just what we did, however.

McSween dug in his spurs, pulled both Colts, and charged, spitting lead at the night. For a cautious man proud of his silver hair, he sure had himself a keen interest in gawdy exits.

We all followed him, yelling and blazing.

If we were shot at, I never heard the gunfire through all our own commotion.

We were still on our saddles, none the worse for wear, by the time we left Bailey's Corner behind us.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR.

The Posse The hard way we rode, only stopping now and then to let the horses catch their wind, I judged that the boys didn't figure we were in the clear.

Finally, I had to ask. I put the spurs to General and caught up with McSween. ”Do you reckon they're coming after us?”

”That's a good bet, w.i.l.l.y,” he said, looking over at me. ”You know them two lawmen that was fools enough to side with Prue? They was town deputies. I don't know the one, but the other was James Brewer, brother to the sheriff, Ike.”

”Well, where was he he, then?”

”Ike? Don't rightly know. I gave him all kinds of time to take a crack at us. Wanted him to try, but he never showed. Sure would've been a blessing to kill him then and there. Way matters stand, we gotta figure he'll lead a posse after us.”

”What are we to do?”

”Whatever we gotta.”

We kept on riding through the night. I spent plenty of time remembering how the train engineer'd tried to talk me out of joining up with these boys, and wished more than once that I'd heeded his warning. It was far too late for that, though. In the course of a week, I'd helped rob a train, I'd stolen a horse, and I'd stood with the gang in a shootout that left four men murdered. I was no better than an outlaw, myself. And now McSween judged we had a posse coming for us, so I figured I might end my life just as the engineer had predicted, either shot or swinging from a rope.

It made me feel plain sick to think about.

I kept looking back over my shoulder. Behind us was nothing but moonlit desert.

Maybe a posse won't won't come, I told myself. come, I told myself.

I couldn't take much comfort from hoping that, but I did finally calm down. What helped my nerves was knowing I was with the boys, and they weren't likely to let any posse have its way with them. No, sir. I wouldn't be getting myself shot or hanged long as I stayed with McSween and Chase and Emmet and Snooker and Breakenridge-and the engineer be d.a.m.ned.

My optimism lasted till just after dawn.

That's when we halted near the top of a rise and spotted the cloud of dust a few miles to our rear. I couldn't see anyone back there, just dry washes and piles of rock, cacti and stunted trees, and all that blowing yellow dust.

”Aw, s.h.i.+t,” Snooker said.

Chase glanced at McSween. ”Fifteen, twenty of 'em?”

”Least twenty, I'd say.”

”Aw, s.h.i.+t,” Snooker said again.

”Who'd think a town that size,” McSween said, ”could come up with that many fellers eager to get their toes turned up?”

”Reckon we oughta split up?” Chase asked.

Oh, I didn't care for that that notion. Not one whit. Goose b.u.mps went scurrying up my back like a troop of spiders with icy feet. notion. Not one whit. Goose b.u.mps went scurrying up my back like a troop of spiders with icy feet.

”It'd thin 'em out,” Breakenridge said. ”I'd sure rather have four or five on my tail than all of them.”

McSween commenced to roll a smoke. After giving it a lick, he said, ”We put our heads together, maybe we can figure us a better better way to thin 'em out.” He lit up. Smoke curled away from under his mustache as he smiled. ”Get my drift?” way to thin 'em out.” He lit up. Smoke curled away from under his mustache as he smiled. ”Get my drift?”

He offered his makings to me.

Dry as my mouth felt, it would've likely caught fire if I'd had a go at smoking. I shook my head.

”Are you saying we ought to attack them?” I asked.

”Seems a fine idea to me,” he said.

”Jesus wept,” said Breakenridge.

Chase gazed off at the dust cloud, which seemed to be closer to us already, and rubbed his chin. ”Let's do it,” he said.

”Hot d.a.m.n!” Emmet blurted.

Snooker and Breakenridge didn't appear to enjoy the notion, but they didn't speak against it.

”How you doing, w.i.l.l.y?”

We sat atop our mounts, all by ourselves, waiting.

”Not at all good, actually.”

”Can't say as I blame you,” McSween said. ”Not feeling too spry myself, if the truth be known. Sorry we pulled you into this.”

”It was my own choice.”