Dingo and his gang had stopped briefly to rest and water the horses by a small stream. Dingo was looking at the back trail. Piece also looked, but could see nothing. He looked up at Dingo with narrowed eyes and asked, “Aren’t we going back for Murdock?”
“No.”
“Why not?” There can’t be that many . . .”
“There’s only two. I didn’t see them, but that’s my guess. But somehow I sense these two are different in some way. They could mean trouble for us, and I don’t intend to look for trouble before its time. I don’t intend to give up what we’ve gained just because that fool Murdock can’t stay on a horse. Of course, if you want to go back, nobody’s stopping you.”
Piece shrugged, and said, “He’s no friend of mine. Way I look at it, he’ll get what he deserves.”
“I thought not.”
“What if he talks?”
“If he gets any ideas about squealing, we’ll just take him out. Simple solution to the problem. No more problem.”
“What’s the plan now?”
“We take the money we got from the buffalo hunt and the gold that those greenhorns so kindly provided to us and have ourselves some fun. There’s some whiskey and women waiting for us.”
“Fort Concho?”
“That’s too close—no use taking chances. Let’s head south. How does old Mexico sound to you?”
Sam landed on the outlaw. The force pushed him to the ground. He punched Sam in the chest with a closed fist, but Sam was young, strong, and muscular. He shrugged off the blow and rose to his feet.
“I don’t know who you are, but you’ve gone and tangled with the wrong guy,” the outlaw said. “Nobody messes with Mel Murdock.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard those kind of threats before.”
Murdock was heavier than Sam, but he was also slower. Sam ran toward Murdock, then pivoted at the last minute. Instead of the punch that Murdock expected, he found Sam beside him. Sam pounded the side of Murdock’s head with a series of short, quick punches.
Murdock finally managed to dodge one of the blows and kick out viciously. Sam caught the foot and twisted, forcing Murdock to the ground.
In his anger, Sam was less cautious than he normally would have been. He twisted the leg until it felt as if it would give, but in a surprisingly quick move Murdock also twisted and kicked with his other leg. This again hit Sam in the chest, but with enough force that it pushed him back. Murdock, though limping, moved in with some more blows to Sam’s stomach and chest, trying to wear Sam down.
In spite of Murdock’s efforts, however, Sam was not getting tired. He just kept coming back for more, handing out more punishment than he received.
Sam directed his anger at Murdock, pummeling him with a series of short, hard blows to the stomach and head. Murdock evaded some of the punches, but not enough. His face had become covered with blood.
Finally, seeing he couldn’t win, Murdock pulled out a long skinning knife and rushed. Sam was no stranger to knives, however, and sidestepped the attack. Sam sidestepped, grabbed the outlaw and threw him toward the wagon. He hit with a thud, but jumped up and ran again toward Sam.
A bullet whizzed past Sam and hit Murdock in the shoulder. He dropped his knife and fell backward against the wagon.
Leaning over the top of the rock was the driver, smoke curling from his gun.
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Copyright © 1993 by William W. Johnstone
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ISBN: 978-0-7860-1763-8
Blood Bond 7 Page 20
