Free The Pinkerton Job by J. R. Roberts Page B

another?
    *   *   *
    Siringo moved in closer, keeping close to the steers, gun in hand. He looked around for Clint, saw him not far away, also using the steers for cover.
    Now they were both close enough to hear clearly that the argument was over who was in charge. In was obvious that Sandusky was not among them.
    Siringo looked over at Clint, who waved that he was ready.
    â€œAll right,” Siringo announced, stepping out from the cover of the steers, “nobody move.”
    All the outlaws turned to look at him, and then they all did just the opposite. They went for their guns.
    *   *   *
    Tom Horn sighted on the Mexican, figuring he was supposed to be the leader. But as the group went for their guns, he could plainly see which one of them was going to clear leather first. He fired, hitting the man in the left side of the neck and putting him down. He quickly levered another round and fired again, this time just into the whole group.
    *   *   *
    Siringo fired and ducked back behind the steers, but the animals were just seconds away from stampeding because of the shots.
    Clint fired twice, quickly dispatching two men from the action, then took cover himself.
    Both men fired into the group of outlaws, who were scattering, trying to make a smaller target of themselves. The steers started to run, but that was of no concern to Siringo and Clint as long as they weren’t trampled. They were not worried about keeping the herd together and getting it back to Lincoln County. And, in fact, the herd began to run
toward
the outlaws, who then really had to scramble to keep from being trampled beneath them.
    Clint and Siringo managed to avoid that fate themselves, but the stampeding herd kicked up a lot of dust, which impeded their view. They both hoped Horn had a clearer view from above . . .
    But he did not.
    The dust was obscuring all the figures below him. Horn continued to sight down the barrel of his rifle, though, waiting for a target to become clear. He just hoped Siringo and Clint weren’t getting their asses shot off inside the dust cloud.

TWENTY-FIVE
    The dust made Siringo’s and Clint’s eyes gritty, but they had to assume the same was true of the other men. They dodged steers and, finally, to totally avoid being trampled, had to scramble clear of the cover the steers had afforded them.
    *   *   *
    Several of the outlaws fell prey to the flashing hooves of the stampeding steers. Others scampered out of the way, still trying to see through the clouds of dust to fire at what they assumed were members of a posse. And with no leader to guide them, they simply reacted in an every-man-for-himself manner.
    *   *   *
    Siringo and Clint worked their way onto the fringes of the dust cloud, were suddenly able to see several outlaws, who were fanning the air in front of them, trying to get a clear view. A shot from Horn’s rifle took one down. Clint was hoping they’d capture at least one of them alive.
    Eventually, the steers were all gone and the dust began to settle. As the view cleared, the ground was littered with bodies, and there were only a few men standing—Clint, Siringo, and three of the outlaws.
    The five men stared at one another, all looking rather shocked by the events of the past few minutes.
    â€œDrop the guns!” Siringo shouted. “It’s all over.”
    The three remaining outlaws had their guns in their hands, pointing down, their faces—like those of Siringo and Clint—covered with dust.
    â€œDon’t try anything,” Clint said. “You’re covered from above.”
    The three men’s eyes flicked about, as if looking for someone to tell them what to do. Finally, one of them began to lift his gun to point it at Clint and Siringo. Horn’s rifle barked once and the man fell, startling the other two.
    â€œI told you,” Siringo said.