Ralph Compton Death Along the Cimarron by RALPH COMPTON

raid on the next town up the line, get ourselves some real money. Then we’re heading north of here, where there’s good ambush country. By the time Billy and Frisco tangle with the woman and the old man, we’ll be higher up, able to look down at anything on our trail. This is how I’m going to play it—instead of looking all over for them, I’ll keep them looking for me, right up until I’m ready to kill them.”

Chapter 6
    Within moments, Cherokee Earl and his men had swapped their tired horses for fresh ones from the corral. As the group gathered at the corral gate, Earl looked over at where Dave Waddell stirred slightly in the dirt. “Hold these for me, Turley,” he said, handing Dirty Joe the reins to Ellen’s horse. “I’ve got one last thing to do before I leave.”
    Ellen gasped as Earl turned his horse toward Dave Waddell. Hearing her, Earl looked back over his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I ain’t going to kill him. Bullets cost money.”
    As he rode his horse across the yard, Sherman Fentress said to Dirty Joe in a hurt tone, “I don’t know why he didn’t ask me to hold the reins. I’m the one he was always asking to do stuff like that.”
    â€œBecause you messed up, you idiot.” Dirty Joe laughed. “You let this woman scratch your face and make a fool of you.” He jiggled the reins to Ellen’s horse, grinned, and winked at her. “Ain’t that right, sugar?”
    Ellen looked away from Turley’s leering face.
    â€œDon’t talk to her that way, Turley,” Sherman warned.
    Turley laughed; so did Jorge and Avery McRoy. “Boys, I believe Sherman’s gone lovestricken on us.”
    â€œSí,” said Jorge, “and I think it is not such a wise thing, to fall for the boss’s woman.”
    Dirty Joe’s voice fell quieter, iust audible to those near him. “The boss’s woman today, maybe. But who can say about tomorrow? He might decide what’s good enough for himself is good enough for all of us. I don’t reckon ole Sherman here would object to that, would you, pal?” He gave Sherman a sly look.
    â€œYou best watch your dirty mouth, Joe, I’m warning you!” said Sherman Fentress, his hand dropping to the pistol handle on his hip.
    Ellen listened closely to every whispered word, knowing that her only chance out of this was to keep her wits and weigh every possibility. Halfway across the dirt yard, she saw Cherokee Earl turn in his saddle upon hearing Sherman’s angry voice. “Can’t you men be this close to a woman without it turning you into lunatics?”
    The men fell silent. Earl shook his head and rode the last few steps over to Dave Waddell, who tried to struggle to his feet. “You lay right there, Davey,” said Earl, bumping his horse into Waddell, sending him back face down in the dirt. “I like looking down at you.”
    â€œDon’t—don’t take her ... please,” Dave gasped, dirt-streaked tears streaming down his face, a string of spittle dangling from his lips.
    â€œOh, I’m taking her, Dave. That’s already been settled.” Earl grinned, drawing the Whitney from his waist. As he continued to speak, he opened the percussion gun’s cylinder and dropped out all of the loads but one. “But I want it to be said that I was a good sport about this.” Then he closed the gun and pitched it to the ground a few feet from Waddell’s dirt-crusted hands.
    â€œPlease ...!” Dave glanced at the pistol but made no move for it. Then he dropped his cheek back to the dirt.
    â€œThere you are, partner,” said Earl, stepping his horse to the side, hoping for Ellen to get a look at what was going on. “You’ve got one shot in there. Either take it at me whilst I turn and ride away with her, or else after I leave ...” He let his words trail, then added, “Well, I