A few of those young men and women immediately surrounded the princess and started dragging her up the slope, away from the fighting, out of range of the white man’s far-reaching weapons.
Scratch watched her reluctantly back away, amused at how she continued to stare over her shoulder as she was yanked up that hillside, her eyes transfixed on the tiny corral where the trappers were holding out. Perhaps she even wondered just which one of the cursed whiteskins had killed her beautiful pony. Likely heaping her vilest curses on the man who had gone and soured her powerful medicine that she had been using to spur the naked horsemen to perform their death-defying charges.
“And well you should do your share of the damned killing, Jim Baker,” Bass replied to the redhead as he rocked backward and dragged the long barrel off the horse’s front shoulder.
Scratch swatted at a dozen flies hovering around his sweaty face and tugged the stopper from his powderhorn between his teeth. “Because killin’ ever’ last one of these bastards we can drop afore sundown comes is the only way this bunch of half-dead hide hunters is gonna slip outta here when it gets slap dark.”
*Ride the Moon Down
†Dance on the Wind
Copyright © 1996 by Terry C. Johnston.
Map design by Jeffrey Ward.
FB2 document info
Document ID: 6d6c4586-ce29-4c10-b7a0-03616e329b42
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 22.6.2012
Created using: calibre 0.8.56, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
Terry C. Johnston
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Buffalo Palace tb-2 Page 62
