“Three,” shouted Porter as he stood up from behind the barrel of lead-soaked flour. He blasted his guns and ducked back down in an instant.
The gang’s guns blazed, and the shots echoed loud enough along the river to wake the dead. The player piano soon had so many lead fingers trying to play the keys that it was splintered in a discordant final dirge.
Far overhead, the vultures gently wheeled like a black ring in the sky, drifting ever downward, ever closer.
In the exchange Porter got a rough count of how many bandits there were, and he figured that he had shot at least two more of them. That was still too many left for his trapped position. How could he get out of this fix and fast? He needed his horse, Hoss. But even if he had Hoss, his back was still up against the river; he was trapped by that swift flowing torrent—that was the answer! Risky as it was.
One thing the bandits didn’t know was that Hoss was a biter. Porter had trained him for just such an occasion by whistling. Hopefully that spindly kid would still be nearby when Porter whistled and Hoss could escape the puke and help Porter cross the torrent.
“You ain’t getting out of this alive, Porter!” called Wilson. “We got you dead to rights. Might as well give up the map and we’ll make it quick and painless.”
“Tempting,” said Porter. “But I think I’ve still got an Ace in the hole.”
“He ain’t got nothing,” said Andy. “He’s stalling.”
Whistling to Hoss, who was just a short distance away behind that jagged bend in the hillock. Porter waited until he heard the spindly kid cry out, from what was probably a significant and painful horse bite. Porter threw down a full load of six at the bandits from each of his Navy Colt’s. Without looking to survey the damage done, he dove into the river. He trusted Hoss would follow, so long as he didn’t get shot either. Hoss was a smart horse.
Porter was in the river, barely keeping his breath as he dogpaddled farther out into the current. Bullets splashed all about him as the bandits swarmed down out of the rocks. Porter was not a great swimmer but it was a necessary evil. His possibly drowning in the murky deluge was just the price he had to pay to retain the right of life. An undertow tugged at his heavy boots and he kicked hard to escape it.
“Hoss!” he called, sputtering out a mouthful of river. “I need ya!” Hoss was swiftly gliding toward him. He grabbed the beast’s mane and let the animal carry them down the river.
Porter figured the bandits would run up to his former position and start shooting at him from a better angle, but they didn’t. The shooting had unexpectedly ceased.
Daring to turn against his swimming horse and look, Porter saw a pair of Ute Indian braves on the bluff looking down. The Utes were enough of a distraction that Porter’s attackers had been thwarted six ways to Sunday. The Cotterell’s threw their hats down and cursed at Porter as he disappeared around the bend.
Taking stock of all that had just transpired, Porter wondered what they had meant by a bone map or why they thought he would have it. He guessed Dirty McCurdie was a still day or two ahead of him. Maybe he was closer than he thought? But how did they know he was even hunting the man? Perhaps they were assuming he had taken a map and was going after some loot? If there was any to be spoken of it was certainly ill gotten and that would be a matter for the law.
Porter spat a mouthful of river water out and pondered as Hoss made his way to the opposite shore. If he had any inkling that there would have been a gang as big as the Cotterell’s out of New Mexico, here and involved, he would have brought a posse. One thing was for sure, next time there would be a reckoning.
To be continued in SCAVENGERS
About the Author:
David J. West writes dark fantasy and weird westerns because the voices in his head won’t quiet until someone else can hear them. He is a great fan of sword & sorcery, ghosts and lost ruins, so of course he lives in Utah in with his wife and children.
You can visit him online at:
http://www.kingdavidjwest.com/
https://twitter.com/David_JWest
http://david-j-west.tumblr.com/
Also by David J. West
Dark Trails Saga
Scavengers
Six-Gun Serenade
Cold Slither
Whispers Out of the Dust
Fangs of the Dragon
Lit Pulp Collection
Weird Tales of Horror
The Mad Song: and other Tales of Sword & Sorcery
Gods in Darkness
Whispers of the Goddess
The Hand of Fate
Eldritch Collection
Space Eldritch
Space Eldritch 2: The Haunted Stars
Redneck Eldritch
Heroes of the Fallen Saga
Heroes of the Fallen
Bless the Child
Blood of Our Fathers (forthcoming)
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Six-Gun Serenade: A Porter Rockwell Adventure (Dark Trails Saga Book 0) Page 6
