Free Novel 1963 - Fallon (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour

heard the door close, heard the rush of Fallon’s feet on the steps. He got out of bed and went to the window. The street below was empty.
    He stood there for a minute or two, worrying about what was happening, but reflecting that had Fallon needed him he would have rapped on his door.
    Fallon threw the saddle on the black and led him to the door of the stable. Thunder rumbled in the mountains as he stepped into the stirrup. He had always told himself he was a selfish man, and he believed it. So far he had not paused to consider what he was about to do in reference to that belief.
    The black was an excellent stock horse, and automatically Fallon felt for the rope at the pommel as he turned the horse into the street.
    A dark figure moved in front of the harness shop, working with a shovel. Somebody was ditching in expectation of rain.
    â€œTeel?”
    â€œIs that you, Fallon?”
    â€œGoing to check the stock. I could use a hand.”
    â€œGot to get my slicker.”
    Teel wasted no time. Fallon could see him saddling up by the light of a lantern. There was a smell of fresh hay and manure, and Teel moving swiftly in the vague light seemed like a figure in some witchery.
    Rain was pouring down upon the mountains when they reached the flat. The Missourian knew as well as Fallon where the cattle sheltered. The town’s oxen, some of its horses, and all of the mules and cows were there.
    At the cut in the bank Fallon caught Teel’s arm. “You stay here to guide them. I’ll go down and start them back.”
    â€œTwo can do it better,” Teel said, and started his horse down the cut.
    â€œWhen the water comes,” Fallon shouted above the thunder, “she’ll come a-rolling with logs, boulders—everything! You leave it to me!”
    Teel ignored him, and went down the bank, with Fallon following. On the bottom they spurred their horses, charging at a dead run along the floor of the wash toward the cattle. At any moment Fallon expected to hear the roar of the flood rushing down from behind them. The hair prickled along the back of his neck.
    Several of the oxen and mules were already on their feet, looking nervously toward the mountains. Teel rode into them, slapping with his coiled rope. “
Hi
-yuh!
Hi
-yuh! Git with it now!
Git!
”
    Sluggishly, the rest got to their feet. Desperately, yelling and slapping with their ropes, the men got them started. Fallon slid his .44 into his hand and put a bullet into the air. The cattle started to move, but the leaders held back.
    â€œHike ’em!” Fallon shouted. “The leaders can smell it! Once they hear that water comin’, nothing will make them go toward it!”
    Firing their guns, yelling, and whipping with their ropes, they started the reluctant herd up the wash. Fallon felt a coolness on his face, and terror swept through him. He knew that feeling…he had felt it before. A wall of water was pushing the air before it.
    They fired again and again, and the black, stock horse that he was, nipped at the nearest hindquarters. They were moving now, really moving. Lightning flashed and the leaders stopped and started to mill. Fallon drove at them, lashing them into a run.
    Rain began to fall. A few scattered drops, large drops hard driven by the wind, and then a roaring rush of rain…a regular cloudburst. Lightning struck somewhere ahead, and again the leaders stopped and started to turn. Fallon, leaving the drag to Teel, drove through the herd, whipping the leaders on.
    Suddenly, above the crash of thunder and the rushing roar of the rain, they heard another sound. The herd was running good now and Fallon fell back.
    â€œDrive ’em!”
he yelled. “It’s in the
canyon!
”
    With rope and pistol they harried the cattle up the canyon before them, their horses racing back and forth, nipping with their teeth at the frightened creatures. Suddenly Fallon saw, looming ahead, the boulder that marked