Free Collection 1989 - Long Ride Home (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour Page B

Arizona.”
    â€œBut I happen to know,” Greenley said sharply, “that Clip Haynes headed this way—with the ten thousand he got from that stage job near Goldroad!”
    Perry looked at Doc thoughtfully. “Maybe so. It could be that way, all right.” He glanced at Buff McCarty, who was watching him from his small blue eyes. “Sure, I’ll take the job! I’ll ride in tonight, by the canyon trail.”
    The three men walked to their horses, and Perry turned abruptly back to the mine office to draw, his time.

----
    T HE MOON WAS rising when the man called Perry swung onto his horse and took the canyon trail for Basin City. The big black stepped out swiftly, and the man lounged in the saddle, his eyes narrowed with thought. He rode with the ease of one long accustomed to the saddle, and almost without thinking kept to the shadows along the road, guiding his horse neatly so as to render it almost invisible in the dim light.
    From the black, flat-crowned hat tied under his chin with a rawhide thong to the hand-tooled cowman’s boots, his costume offered nothing that would catch the glint of light or prevent him from merging indistinguishably with his background. Even the two big guns with their polished wooden butts, tied down and ready for use, harmonized perfectly with his somber dress.
    The trail dipped through canyons and wound around lofty mesas, and once he forded a small stream. Shortly after, riding through a maze of gigantic boulders, he reined in sharply. His keen ear had detected a sudden sound.
    Even as he came to a halt he heard the hard rattle of hooves from a running horse somewhere on the trail ahead, and almost at the same instant, the sharp
spang
of a high-powered rifle.
    Soundlessly, he slid from the saddle, and even before his feet touched the sand of the trail, his guns were gripped in his big hands. Tensely, he ran forward, staying in the soft sand where his feet made no noise. Suddenly, dead ahead of him and just around a huge boulder, a pistol roared. He jerked to a halt, and eased around the rock.
    A black figure of a man was on its knees in the road. Just as the man looked around, the rifle up on the mountainside crashed again, and the kneeling figure spilled over on its face.
    Perry’s gun roared at the flash of the rifle, and roared again as a bullet whipped by his ear. The rifle fired once more, and Perry felt his hat jerk on his head as he emptied his gun at the concealed marksman.
    There was no reply. Cautiously Perry lifted his head, then began to inch toward the dark figure sprawled in the road before him. A match flared suddenly up on the hillside, and Perry started to fire, then held it. The man might think him dead, and his present position was too open to take a chance. As he reached the body, the rattle of a horse’s hooves faded rapidly into the distance.
    Perry’s lips set grimly. Then he got to his knees and lifted the body.
    It was a boy—an attractive, fair-haired youngster. He had been shot twice, once through the body, and once through the head. Perry started to rise.
    â€œHold it!” The voice was that of a woman, but it was cold and even. “One move and I’ll shoot!”
    She was standing at one side of the road with a pistol aimed at Perry’s belt line. Even in the moonlight she was lovely. Perry held perfectly still, riveted to the position as much by her beauty as by the gun she held so steadily.
    â€œYou murderer!” she said, her voice low with contempt. “Stand up, and keep your hands high!”
    He put the boy gently back on the ground and got to his feet. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, miss,” he said. “I didn’t kill this boy.”
    â€œDon’t make yourself a liar as well as a killer!” she exclaimed. “Didn’t I hear you shooting? Haven’t I eyes?”
    â€œWhile you’re holding me here,” he said gently, “the real killer is