Free the Rider Of Ruby Hills (1986) by Louis L'amour

hotel through the back door. There in the darkness he stood stock-still at the side of the door letting his eyes become accustomed to the night. After a minute or two he could pick out the stable, the orchard, and the white of the stones in the wall.
    Walking to the stable, he took the path along its side and then put a hand on the stone wall and dropped over it with a quick vault. Then he stood still once more. If he approached Burt too suddenly the wounded man might mistake him for an enemy and shoot. Nor did he know Burt, or Burt him.
    Moving silently, Haney worked his way along the stone wall. It was no more than three feet high, and along much of it there was a hedge of weeds and brambles. He ripped a scratch on his hand and then swore. Softly, he moved ahead, and he was almost to the corner when a voice spoke, very low.
    "All right, mister, you've made a good guess but a bad one. Let one peep out of you an' you can die."
    "Burt?"
    "Naw!" the cowhand was disgusted. "This is King Solomon an' I'm huntin' the Queen of Sheba! Who did you think it would be?"
    "Listen, an' get this straight the first time. I'm your friend, and a friend of May and Kinney from the hotel. I've been huntin' you to help you out of here. There's a horse at May's shack, an' we've got to get you there just as fast as we can make it. You hear?"
    "How do I know who you are?"
    "I'd have yelled, wouldn't I? If I found you?"
    "Once, maybe. No more than once though. This Colt carries a kick. Who are you. I can't see your face."
    "I'm Ross Haney. Just blew in."
    "The hombre that backed Syd Berdue up? Sure thing, I know you. Heard all about it. It was a good job."
    "Can you walk?"
    "I can take a stab at it if you give me a shoulder."
    "Let's go, then."
    With an arm around Burt's waist, Haney got him over the fence and then down the dark alleyway between it and the stone house next to it. They came out in an open space, and beyond it there was the trail and then the woods. Once in the shelter of the trees they would have ample concealment all the way to May's house.
    Yet once they were started across that open space, any door opened along the backs of the buildings facing them from across the street would reveal them, and they would be caught in the open. There would be nothing for it then but to shoot it out.
    "All right, Burt. Here we go! If any door opens, freeze where you are!"
    "Where you takin' me?" Supporting himself with a hand on Haney's shoulder, and Haney's arm around his waist, he made a fair shift at hobbling along.
    "May's shack. If anything delays me, get there. Take her horse an' light out. You know that old trail to the badlands?"
    "Sure, but it ain't no good unless you circle around to Thousand Springs. No water. An' that's one mighty rough ride."
    "Don't worry. I'll handle that. You get over there and find a spot to watch the trail until you see me. But with luck we'll make it together."
    Burt's grip on Haney's shoulder tightened. "Watch it! Somebody openin' that door!"
    They stopped, standing stock-still. Ross felt Burt's off arm moving carefully, and then he saw the cowhand had drawn a gun. He was holding it across his stomach, covering the man who stood in the light of the open door. It was the bartender.
    Somebody loomed over the bartender's shoulder. "Hey! Who's that out there?"
    "Go on back to your drinks," the bartender said. "I'll go see." He came down the steps and stalked out toward them, and Haney slid his hand down for his left gun.
    The fat man walked steadily toward them until he was close by. He glanced from one face to the other. "Pat," Burt said softly, "you'd make a soft bunk for this lead."
    "Don't fret yourself," he said. "If I hadn't come, one of those drunken Box N riders would have, an' then what? You shoot me, an' you have them all out here. Go on, beat it. I'm not huntin' trouble with any side." He looked up at Haney. "Nor with you, Ross. You don't remember me, but I remember you right well from your fuss with King