Pale Horse, Robert L. Ross [beach read book .TXT] 📗

about that, 100%?” “I'm positive as I can be, this mean one here, he never said his name, but he slapped me across the face and called me every name he could think of.., and a whore, He was one of the meanest sons-a-bitches I ever met, and that portly long haired fella, his name was Willy, no, it was William, because he kept getting upset with me for calling him 'Willy” “I remember him well, he was kinda nice and all, and spending money like he was a cattle baron or something, and just as quick as he was here, he was gone!” “What are they wanted for?” she asked out of curiosity. “Don't worry yourself none about that,” he said to her as he folded the posters up and put them back in his jacket. “Here, take this $20 and bring me an unopened bottle of Irish Jacks, and buy you and the rest of the girls a bottle to share, and spread the word that I don't want to be bothered by any of them, alright?” “Sure Mister, Thanks,” she said as she hurried to the bar and returned with his bottle. At first, he thought about telling Pale Horse of the news, but realized the trail was dark, and there was no way they would catch up with them anyway. “They were on the right trail though, the outlaws all came through here on their way back to Denver, and they were moving fast too. They knew someone was after them, and they weren't wasting much time in the saloons along the way.” Colt opened the bottle of Jacks, and poured himself a drink while thinking to himself, “It wont be long now.”
As the sun crept languidly over the Eastern horizon and painted the swirling dust of Main Street with its morning blush, the forlorn shadows of doom rode side by side with Pale Horse Rankin and Colt Mathews as they put another town behind them and got ever closer to the unfortunate prey they were stalking. Colt informed his fellow bounty hunter of the conversation between him and the bar room girl the night before, and from that moment, they pushed even harder for Denver, canvassing every town in between, leaving no stone unturned.
“We should make Three Corners by noon tomorrow,,” Pale Horse shouted to those riding beside him. “That's what I figure,” replied Colt to his partner. When neither of the girls spoke a word in response, both Pale Horse and Colt looked behind them, noticing the ladies had put some distance between them, and were talking among themselves. “Girl-talk, no doubt,” said Pale Horse as he turned and continued forward. Colt caught the glance of Temperance, and by the gleam that shined mischievous in her eyes, he could tell what it was they were discussing privately between them. She was undoubtedly filling her in on her version of the lurid events of the evening prior, the tale, no doubt getting more exaggerated and glorified as the story unfolded. He just shook his head and smiled as he gently nudged Biscuit to catch up with Spirit.
Several hours passed as they rode together, undaunted and persistent, their reticence unwavering before Colt broke the deafening silence, “Hyaaaah” he shouted as he dug his heel with purpose into the flank of Biscuit, spurring him forward at an urgent pace towards the scene of mortal desecration that caught his watchful eye. Pale Horse and the rest of his companions followed his lead as each of them raced behind him with the same urgency displayed. A covered wagon, now in shambles, lie broken and charred, with the bodies of those that rode within, now scattered around it, left for the wolves and buzzards to feast upon. “They're all dead,” said Colt, as he and the others dismounted and speculated at the reason for their demise. “Apache?” asked Temperance as she covered her face at the horror of the family that had met such an untimely death. “No,” replied Pale Horse as he bent down over the father, checking for signs of life. “Whoever it was must have been in a hurry,” said Mathews as he bent down over the mother and did the same. “How can you tell that?” she asked of Colt. “Their guns and supplies are still here, whoever did this, did it out of pure meanness or for some other reason unknown,” he answered back. Pale Horse turned away from the body beneath him as he pointed to a couple of horses that lie dying just yards away, “There's your reason,” he said as he walked over to them. Noticing the sweat that stained their chest and flanks, he looked over at Colt and said, “Someone stole their horses.” As Colt walked past the deceased woman and over to examine what his friend had found, Temperance cried out, “I found a boy, and I think he's still alive!” Winter Crow quickly ran to her side to see about the child. “She immediately bent down over the boy and placed her hand under his shirt to feel his heartbeat,” “He is alive!” she said as the others soon gathered around them. Pale Horse tore the boys shirt open to examine the gunshot wound he had in his shoulder. “He's apparently lost a lot of blood,” he said as he picked him up and carried him over to the clearing beneath an oak tree just feet away from the burned out wagon. Colt, give me your canteen, Winter Crow, get those loose strips of cloth out of my saddle bags and bring them to me please. Pale Horse poured water from Colts canteen over the wound to wash away the blood to get a better look at the wound, then pulled out his elk bone knife and proceeded to remove the bullet still lodged in the boys shoulder. Winter Crow poured water from her canteen on the strips of torn cloth and wiped the blood away as her brother dug deeper trying to remove the lead. After removing the bullet, Pale Horse asked, “Colt, do you have any of that poultice spread left in your saddle bags?” “Yeah, I think I do. He walked over to Biscuit, and upon retrieving the healing mixture of softened clay and cornmeal, gave it to Winter crow to apply to the boys wound. She soaked the homemade remedy with some water and spread it across a strip of the cloth, then tied it down on the wound with the longer strips she had taken from the saddle bags. “Shouldn't we get him to a doctor?” asked Temperance with deep concern. “The nearest town is still a full day away, and there's no way he could make the trip without dying before we got there,” Pale Horse answered her. “Then what are we going to do?” she asked. Colt, walking past her calmly replied, “The only thing we can do, Set up camp and watch over the lad until he regains his strength.” “What about Walters and the other man?” she asked. Pale Horse, looking over in the direction of his friend Colt replied, “Well, as I've been told lately, they'll be where ever they are when we catch up to them.” Colt, looking for something to dig the graves for those deceased, looked over at his friend and smiled, remembering the conversation between Pale Horse and himself that he was referring to. A spruce handled shovel, splintered and charred, found in the rear of the wagon dug the graves for the once hopeful farmers that would never see their dreams fulfilled. Winter Crow and Temperance, overcome with emotion at the death and destruction that had been a constant companion since their abduction, walked away together to sit in silence as the men continued to bury the dead.
The two men took remnants of the wagon burned, and with the kindling they had gathered, started a fire and laid out the bedrolls for another night spent under the stars on the unforgiving plains of the frontier. Colt rummaged through their supplies and prepared beans and biscuits for his weary friends. The two sisters watched over the boy throughout the night, praying to the powers that be for his healing. When the sun began to rise, Pale Horse was the first to awaken, and looking over at his sisters, both peacefully asleep, he noticed the boy moving about and struggling to sit up. “Where am I?” he asked, as he raised only his head and saw Pale Horse as he approached him. As he began to explain what little he could figure out to the boy, the others, hearing their voices, awoke around him, surprised and elated that he had made it through the night. “There were two of them, they just rode up and started shooting all of us, he said as he began sobbing, remembering the terror he and his family had gone through. As he struggled through the tears still falling, he continued, “They killed my pa, then they shot my ma, I tried to stop them, but the long haired one shot me too, and that's the last thing I remember.” “What's your name son?, Colt asked him. “Kelly Stafford,” he answered back. Looking around, he noticed the graves across the camp and asked, are those my parents?” Colt was the first to answer him, “Yes son, it is.” “Where's my sister?” he asked, as he seemed to be looking for a third grave. Each of them looked around at one another, confused and despondent, “You have a sister?” Temperance was the first to ask. “Yes, Paula, a year younger than I, Did you not find her too?”. Although the answer to his question seemed a simple one, it was difficult for anyone to say, because of the lack of explanation of her whereabouts that was sure to follow. Pale Horse, sensing the dread among them, answered the boy, “No lad, we found your parents and you, that's all, I'm sorry.” “Then they must have taken her with them!” he exclaimed. Colt, on a hunch and fearing the worst, reached into his jacket and produced the remaining wanted posters he carried with him and showed them to the young man, “Are these the men that shot you?” The boy, sitting straight up and wincing from the obvious pain, said “Yes, it is!”. Colt looked at Pale Horse, anger seething in his words, said, “We need to ride!” With little else to say, Pale Horse asked Kelly if he felt like he could ride, and he quickly answered “Yes, I can!”. Temperance spoke up and said, “He can ride with me until we find him a horse.” “Thank you Ma'am,” he replied back, and they quickly gathered their things and resumed their hunt, this time, there was another life at stake, and there was no stopping until they found her.
They rode heavy and hard, with the two men in the lead, and the girls about 40 yards behind them. They were praying to find the girl before Walters and Russell had harmed her, neither of them deluding themselves, knowing it may already be too late for that, but if they could find her alive, that would count for something. Kelly kept one arm around Temperance, and with the other, he bravely held the bandage in place, not once complaining of the pain he was sure to be in, out of concern for his sister.
5 hours had passed, and crossing the border into Colorado with the town of Three Corners just a couple of miles ahead, Pale Horse suddenly pulled reins, stopping in the road. Colt followed the lead of his friend and did the same, knowing there must be a reason. Pale Horse had noticed what looked like a light blue dress in the tall grass that he had just rode past. He dismounted and walked up to Colt, telling him what he