Jasper Flynt was not flustered one whit, but many of his men fidgeted in their saddles. So long as they held the upper hand and there was little chance of being wounded or slain, they were full of courage and confidence. But now that the odds against them had risen, they showed their true natures.
“This is some reunion we’re havin’,” Flynt joked. “Next thing, Manuel Varga himself will rise up out of the ground to join in the frolic.” And as he finished speaking, he snapped his rifle to his chest.
Nate fired the Hawken with one hand, the recoil kicking the barrel skyward. The ball penetrated Flynt below the sternum, smashing him from his horse. Simultaneously, Nate yanked a pistol clear, cocked it as he drew, and squeezed off a shot at the renegade on Flynt’s right.
Behind Nate, Winona and Zach cut loose, their rifles booming in unison. Evelyn, unarmed, stuck her fingers in her ears and scrunched low over her pony.
Four of the killers had gone down in half as many seconds. Belatedly, the others brought their weapons into play. A man on the left was taking aim at Winona when an arrow transfixed his neck. Screaming, he threw up his hands and toppled. Another ruffian kneed his mount toward Zach, only to be tumbled off it by a whizzing shaft that caught him high in the chest.
The renegades finally got off a ragged volley, but most fired without taking deliberate beads. Half of their number were now on the ground, and those who were left had no desire to end up the same. Four of the remaining seven whirled their animals to flee.
Zach centered on a cutthroat who was elevating a pistol. His own flintlock blasted first. The man’s left eye dissolved; he melted to the earth.
Winona snapped a pistol up. She was centering on an onrushing figure when a glittering shaft sheared into the man’s torso.
Nate had traded his spent pistol for his other flintlock. He took a step to the left to get a clear shot, but there was no one to shoot. The brigands who were left were racing pell-mell for the aspens.
The mountain man rotated. His wife, son, and daughter were as amazed by their deliverance as he was. Not one of them had been so much as scratched. Winona abruptly gazed past him in horror.
Jasper Flynt was on his knees, steadying a pistol with both hands. Flynt’s mouth curved in a froth covered grin; he had Nate dead to rights, and knew it. But at that juncture an arrow impaled him above the ear. The leader of the renegades flopped like a headless chicken for a few moments, expiring with a gurgled whine.
In the heavy silence that followed Flynt’s death, the faint, distant crack of shots was like the popping of com kernels in a hot pan. The gunfire punctuated a melody of screams and screeches that went on— and on—and on.
They all knew what it meant.
Twenty-four hours later, six riders stared down from the east rim of the gorge. For the longest while no words were uttered. None were necessary. To call what they saw a slaughterhouse would not do the butchery justice.
“I tried to warn them,” Nate said.
Winona could not bear to look any more. “You did what you could, husband. They brought it on themselves.”
“I wish we could have saved Rosa,” Evelyn remarked. “She was awful nice.”
“And Luisa,” Zach said, pricked by the image of her radiant features.
Blue Water Woman pointed at an object being pecked at by a big raven. “I believe that is the young girl’s head.”
Zach shivered, even though the day was warm. “Shouldn’t we bury what’s left?”
“I’d like to, son,” Nate responded, “but the Utes might still be in the area. We took a big risk checking for survivors. It’s best if we light a shuck while we can.”
“Amen to that,” Shakespeare McNair declared, backing the white mare from the brink and turning homeward. “As old William S. once put it, now the play is done. All is well ended, if this suit be won.”
Off they rode, family and friends, into the bright light of a new morning.
About the Author
David L. Robbins was born on Independence Day 1950. He has written more than three hundred books under his own name and many pen names, among them: David Thompson, Jake McMasters, Jon Sharpe, Don Pendleton, Franklin W. Dixon, Ralph Compton, Dean L. McElwain, J.D. Cameron and John Killdeer.
Robbins was raised in Pennsylvania. When he was seventeen he enlisted in the United States Air Force and eventually rose to the rank of sergeant. After his honorable discharge he attended college and went into broadcasting, working as an announcer and engineer (and later as a program director) at various radio stations. Later still he entered law enforcement and then took to writing full-time.
At one time or another Robbins has lived in Pennsylvania, Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Montana, Colorado and the Pacific Northwest. He spent a year and a half in Europe, traveling through France, Italy, Greece and Germany. He lived for more than a year in Turkey.
Today he is best known for two current long-running series - Wilderness, the generational saga of a Mountain Man and his Shoshone wife - and Endworld is a science fiction series under his own name started in 1986. Among his many other books, Piccadilly Publishing is pleased to be reissuing ebook editions of Wilderness, Davy Crockett and, of course, White Apache.
You’ve reached the last page.
But the adventure doesn’t end here …
Join us for more first-class, action-packed books.
Regular updates feature on our website and blog
The Adventures continue…
Issuing new and classic fiction from Yesterday and Today!
More on David Robbins
WILDERNESS GIANT 6; SPANISH SLAUGHTER
By David Robbins Writing as David Thompson
First Published by Leisure Books in 1997
Copyright © 1997, 2019 by David Robbins
First Digital Edition: January 2019
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
Our cover features Trouble Ahead, painted by Andy Thomas, and used by permission. Andy Thomas Artist, Carthage Missouri. Andy is known for his action westerns and storytelling paintings and documenting historical events through history.
This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book
Series Editor: Mike Stotter
Text © Piccadilly Publishing
Published by Arrangement with the Author.
Wilderness Giant Edition 6 Page 27
