by J. T. Edson
‘He’s been hit!’ Mark Counter gasped and a rumble of sound rose from the other members of the watching crowd as the Kid spun around, dropping revolver and knife then crashing down to roll out of sight.
Thrusting himself from the bushes in which he had hidden. Sidewinder limped forward. A savage grin twisted the chief’s face as he advanced to where he last saw the Kid. In falling, the Kid went into a gash torn in the slope at some time by a heavy flood of water, but since grown over. Sidewinder might have hesitated to follow so dangerous an enemy into that kind of area—even in their youth the Kid had few equals at the art of concealment, silent movement and stalking—but the sight of weapons gave him heart. With his rifle lying back down the slope and the Colt and bowie knife in plain sight, the Kid had no weapons with which to defend himself.
Discarding his carbine for the better close-quarters handling qualities of the Army Colt he took from Salmon’s body. Sidewinder advanced down the gash’s side. He could see no sign of the Kid, yet felt sure that his bullet took effect. Possibly the other, badly wounded, had crawled into some cover and only needed finding to be finished off.
A hand came out from under a bush, took hold of Sidewinder’s good ankle and heaved at it. Sidewinder had never been a skilled player at Nanip’ka, Guess Over The Hill, where boys hid and the one from beyond the hill had to locate them. So he failed to see the Kid. With a yell, he tumbled backwards and his Colt fired a wild shot into the air. Like a flash the Kid lunged forward, meaning to land on the other’s body and clamp hands on his throat. Poor Nanip’ka player Sidewinder might be, but he could move fast. Constantly bearing the brunt of carrying him, his good leg had extra strength. Its foot rammed against the Kid’s body, halted his progress and hurled him aside. He landed rolling and Sidewinder sat up, lining the Colt. As a bullet cut the air over his head, the Kid caught up a rock the size of a baseball and snapped it in Sidewinder’s direction. His aim proved to be better than the chief’s for the rock caught Sidewinder in the face. However, the Kid knew he could not reach Sidewinder before the other recovered and going closer made him a larger target, Instead he rose and flung himself up the slope. Blood trickled down Sidewinder’s face but he did not let that interfere with his intention. It was kill or be killed now.
The Army Colt roared and the Kid felt lead slam into him, tearing through the fleshy part of his thigh. Exerting all his will, he flung himself forward and his right hand reached out. He felt the cold, comforting touch of the Dragoon’s walnut grips under his palm and closed his fingers around the butt. Already Sidewinder came up the slope, travelling fast despite his injured leg, determined to get in so close that he could not miss. Up came his Colt, lining towards the Kid.
Rolling over, the Kid brought up the Dragoon and held it cocked ready for use. An instant before Sidewinder felt sure of his aim, the Kid fired. Not for the first time the Kid found cause to be thankful for keeping that heavyweight, out-of-date handgun. The soft round lead ball struck with shocking force, hurling Sidewinder backwards even though it only struck him in the shoulder. Before the chief recovered, or had a chance to, the Kid sat up, took careful aim and sent a second bullet into the other’s chest.
Rising, the Kid stood for a moment then limped to where his knife lay. He took up the big weapon and approached Sidewinder. Bending down, the Kid gripped the dead chief’s hair and dragged his head up from the ground. Around came the knife, its blade ready to bite into flesh and remove the scalp. The fighting madness ebbed slowly away and his left hand loosed its grip of the hair. There at his feet lay his old enemy. Loud Voice and Comes For Food, the friends who died saving the Kid’s life, had been avenged at last. With Sidewinder dead, the treaty could be signed. The old days had gone forever and the Kid could not take the scalp.
Slowly the Kid turned. Walking to where his Colt lay, dropped when he took up the knife to scalp his dead enemy, lie picked it up and holstered it. Sheathing the bowie knife, he limped up the slope and looked at the treaty council.
‘Well,’ he mused as his friends ran up the slope towards him ‘We’ve done it now. I sure hope that it’s the right thing now it’s done.’
About the Author
J.T. Edson was a former British Army dog-handler who wrote more than 130 Western novels, accounting for some 27 million sales in paperback. Edson's works - produced on a word processor in an Edwardian semi at Melton Mowbray - contain clear, crisp action in the traditions of B-movies and Western television series. What they lack in psychological depth is made up for by at least twelve good fights per volume. Each portrays a vivid, idealized "West That Never Was", at a pace that rarely slackens.
More on J. T. EDSON
The Floating Outfit Series by J. T. Edson
The Ysabel Kid
.44 Caliber Man
A Horse Called Mogollon
Goodnight’s Dream
From Hide and Horn
Set Texas Back on Her Feet
The Hide and Tallow Men
Quiet Town
The Hooded Riders
Trail Boss
Wagons to Backsight
Troubled Range
Sidewinder
... And more to come every month!
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THE FLOATING OUTFIT 13: SIDEWINDER
By J. T. Edson
First published by Brown and Watson Ltd in 1967
Copyright © 1967, 2017 by J. T. Edson
First Smashwords Edition: July 2017
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.
This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book ~*~ Text © Piccadilly Publishing
Series Editor: Ben Bridges
Published by Arrangement with the Author’s Agent.
i Told in Comanche.
ii Told in Gunsmoke Thunder.
iii Told in The Fastest Gun in Texas.
iv Told in Trail Boss.
v Namae’enuh: Put politely it means ‘They-who-have-incestuous-intercourse.’
vi Told in The Devil Gun.
vii For a description and information about the Plott Hound read Hound Dog Man.
