Free Outlaw Trackdown by Jon Sharpe Page B

must have spotted him because lead clipped a whang on his sleeve. He ducked around and the shooting stopped, and in the sudden silence his ears rang.
    Fargo pressed his back to the wall and swore he felt it move. Turning, he discovered that it was partially buckled from age and neglect.
    A sound prompted him to peer out. He was sure he’d hit Rufus but he must have missed his vitals.
    Another sound, from inside the soddy, let him know that Abe was still in there. He focused on the doorway, the only way out. Or so he thought.
    A form abruptly dived through the window.
    Fargo snapped a shot, and so did Abe, in midair. The slug thudded into a clod of grass next to Fargo’s face, causing him to jerk back. When he looked out again, Abe was melting into the dark.
    Fargo wanted to kick himself. He’d had a chance at both and blown it. Now he must go after them.
    Tucking at the waist, he darted out. He reached the spot where he thought Rufus had been and stopped and crouched to listen. He figured they might go for their horses and fan the breeze but the night was as still as a cemetery.
    They were out there somewhere, intent on finishing him off.
    Fargo stalked them. He was wary of shooting at anything that moved; it could be the marshal.
    Off in the night there was a scuffing sound.
    Fargo stopped. The trick to playing cat and mouse was to move as little as possible. He waited for them to give themselves away, aware that Rufus and Abe were probably doing the same.
    Something moved off to his right.
    Fargo trained the Henry. Whoever it was, they were coming toward him. A few more steps and he could send them to hell. Then he caught a faint gleam on the figure’s chest, the glint of metal reflecting starlight. “Coltraine!” he whispered.
    The marshal darted over and hunkered. “Here you are. What the hell happened? You were supposed to wait for me to shoot.”
    Scanning for sign of the outlaws, Fargo whispered, “You took too long. I had a chance at Rufus and took it.”
    â€œDid you drop him?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou should have waited. Now we’re up against all six.”
    â€œOnly two. Rufus and Abe.”
    â€œYou don’t say.” Coltraine peered toward the soddy. “They could be anywhere. I’ll go check the sodbuster’s.”
    â€œThey’re not there.”
    â€œIt never hurts to be sure.”
    Before Fargo could object, the lawman dashed off.
    Simmering, Fargo stayed put. If Coltraine wanted his head blown off, let him go running around. Fargo would be damned if he’d make the same mistake.
    Long minutes of silence followed. The coyotes had gone quiet and the breeze had died.
    Fargo could crouch there all night if he had to. He thought about what Rufus and Abe had said and a cold anger festered.
    Unexpectedly, Marshal Coltraine came running back. “No sign of them in the soddy. I reckon they’re gone.”
    â€œYou could be wrong.”
    â€œMaybe. But I’m no good at twiddling my thumbs. We might as well head for town.”
    â€œAfter you,” Fargo said, motioning.
    The lawman’s reputation for fearlessness was well deserved. Standing, he made for where they had left their horses.
    Fargo trailed a few steps behind. He wasn’t as willing to gamble his hide on a hunch. But they reached the Ovaro and the bay without being fired at.
    Still not satisfied it was safe, he rode with his hand on his Colt.
    They had gone about a quarter of a mile when Marshal Coltraine slowed so the Ovaro could come up alongside. “Well, that was a disappointment. I’d hoped to buck them out permanent.”
    â€œThey knew we were coming.”
    â€œHow could they?”
    â€œThey were lying in wait for us, I tell you.”
    â€œYou’re mistaken,” Coltraine insisted. “I didn’t tell a soul what we were up to. How about you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen they couldn’t