Black Horse Creek (9781101607466) by Charles G. West Page B

you took your first chance, I put a bullet hole in your leg.” He took him by the arm, turned him around, and led him toward the horses, talking as he did. “Now this thing this mornin’, well, that was your second chance, and I’d ordinarily put a hole in the other leg for that. But you already had the ladies upset, what with you stickin’ a knife to that young girl’s throat, so I didn’t wanna give ’em anything else to upset ’em.” He paused to steady Billy while he got him up in the saddle before continuing. “So now you’re lookin’ at your third chance, and like I said, I don’t normally give a fellow but two. The third time usually gets a bullet hole between the eyes. I wanna be sure you understand that, ’cause to tell you the truth, I was kinda hopin’ you’d go ahead and start to cut that girl, so I coulda blowed you to hell and made my job a helluva lot easier.”
    There was not much that Billy could say in defiance, but he was still obstinate enough to try. “They’re payin’ you to take me back alive. They ain’t gonna give you nothin’ if you kill me.”
    â€œThat’s where you’re wrong, Billy. You’re just as good to me dead as you are alive. All they want is your worthless body.”
    â€œYou ain’t got me all the way to Fort Smith yet. If you don’t let me go, my pa and my brothers will hunt you down like the lowdown dog you are. Don’t matter if I hang or not; you’ll be just as dead as I am. I guarantee it.”
    â€œI reckon we’ll just have to wait and see about that,” Grayson said. “Every man will die when his time comes—and not a minute before.” He nudged the gray with his heels and pointed the horses east, leaving the Beaver River. As best he could recall, he should strike the Cimarron before nightfall, and make camp there. He estimated it to be a distance of about forty miles, give or take a few miles, and should be no trouble to reach, even with the late start.

Chapter 5
    Jacob Blanchard was furious. When Stump returned to report Billy’s capture by the bounty hunter, Jacob went into a rage like none his crew had ever seen before. He cursed Stump soundly for letting Grayson ride away with Billy in tow. Cowering in the storm of Jacob’s wrath, his foreman, Yancey Brooks, and Yancey’s right-hand man, Lonnie Jenkins slumped like scolded dogs before their master as he fumed. Jacob could interpret Stump’s flight from the line camp only as pure cowardice, thinking he should have fought to protect his son. Unable to understand why they could be held responsible, Yancey and Lonnie nonetheless hung their heads and accepted the blame.
    â€œYancey!” Jacob roared, “send somebody to town and tell Slate and Troy I want them out here right now. Then you and Lonnie get saddled up, ready to ride. I want that son of a bitch that took my boy! I want you to take two extra horses, so you can swap off when they get tired.” It added to his ire that time would be wasted going back to the line camp on Rabbit Creek to pick up Grayson’s trail. The bounty hunter already had a couple of days’ head start, but there was little chance of cutting him off in the vast prairie land when there was no way of knowing the route he might take. The general picture only increased Jacob’s frustration and fanned the fire of his rage.
    â€œAnd Yancey,” he charged, “I want you in the saddle night and day. I don’t care if you kill a couple of horses—catch up with that bastard before he gets to Fort Smith.”
    Yancey looked at Lonnie and nodded solemnly. Looking up at Jacob again, he said, “We’ll do our best, Mr. Blanchard.”
    This was not enough for Jacob. He wasn’t convinced that his foreman grasped the full responsibility he was charged with. “I want better than your best, dammit. I want Grayson