Free Novel 1968 - Down The Long Hills (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour Page B

these men. He could only wait, and watch for his chance.
    At the worst, he might have to run away, even without Betty Sue. That thought was hateful, but for a moment it seemed to him there was little likelihood of their harming her if he was at large and able to testify against them.…No, he couldn’t bear to think of doing that. Somehow there
had
to be a way to escape. Pa, he said in his thoughts,
pa please come!
    Now, he thought, he would even be glad to see the Indian. Just as the Indian’s arrival had given them a chance to escape the grizzly, so his coming now might give them the chance to run away from these men and hide.
    He rustled the fire together, and had coffee water on by the time the two men had pulled on their boots.
    “This one’s quite a hand, Cal,” Jud commented. “He’s a likely lad around a camp.”
    Cal did not speak. He looked at the children with a sour expression. It was only when he watched Big Red that his face lit up. “I’m goin’ to ride that horse,” he said. “I’m goin’ to ride that horse,” he said. “I’m goin’ to ride him this mornin’.”
    “Pa don’t let anybody ride that horse but him or me,” Hardy said.
    Cal looked over at him. “You keep your trap shut, boy. Your pa ain’t here, an’ I’ll ride him any time I see fit.”
    Well, Hardy thought, you take your chances then. Big Red was no horse to fool around with. Hardy remembered when that gangling Peterson boy thought he was a smart aleck. He was going to ride Red whether anybody liked it or not, and the Peterson boy was known as a good rider.…Well, he lasted less than a jump, and if he hadn’t rolled out between the corral bars he would have been killed.
    Maybe that’s the way, Hardy thought. Maybe that’s the way it will happen.
    “Pa will be coming along,” he said quietly, “and pa has a way about him.”
    Jud looked over at him before Cal could speak. “Who is your pa, kid? What’s his name?”
    “He’s at Fort Bridger,” Hardy said, “and his name is Scott Collins.”
    Cal’s head turned slowly toward Hardy, his mean eyes staring at him. Hardy thought Jud looked kind of greenish around the gills. “Did you say
Scott
Collins?”
    “Yes,” said Hardy. “Do you know him?”
    “Not exactly…we know of him.” Jud looked at Hardy. “How’s your pa with a shootin’ iron, son?”
    “He used to win all the turkey shoots back home,” Hardy answered. “And folks who served with him during the Indian fighting said he was the best shot they ever did see.” Suddenly Hardy remembered a story he had heard Mr. Andy tell around the fire when he thought Hardy was asleep.
    The boy told it now. “One time a bunch of men came through our part of the country and stole a cow of pa’s, and some stock belonging to some neighbors. They figured the stock was lost for good, but pa, he wouldn’t say quit. He just set out and followed those men. It was four months before he came back, and he had all that stock and the horses the four men had been riding. He had followed their sign clear down into Missouri.
    “Somebody asked pa what would he do if those men came back hunting their horses, and pa just grinned and said he never was afraid of ghosts.”
    Jud looked thoughtful and glanced at Cal, who shrugged and said, “He’s just one man. What he don’t know won’t start any wars.”
    “I don’t like it, Cal.”
    Cal snorted, but Jud was persistent. He looked over at Hardy. “Yours must’ve been the last wagon train west,” he said. “This here’s late in the season.”
    “That’s what Bill Squires said.”
    “Squires?”
    “He stopped by to do some yarnin’, as he said. He was with us the night before the Indians came, but he rode off by himself, going west. He promised Mr. Andy he’d tell pa we were on our way.”
    “Cal, we better have another think.”
    “Like hell!”
    Jud sliced bacon into the pan, and did not speak for a moment. Betty Sue huddled close to Hardy and sipped a