Free The Red River Ring by Randy D. Smith Page A

his saddle. “You’ll want to get your saddle off. We need to give these ponies as much rest as possible.”
    It was nearer five hours before enough rocks were gathered and piled on the bodies to satisfy Temple. He placed each cowboy’s hat under a rock at the top to show that four bodies were present. Pommel waited patiently as his son said the words.
    The trail was easy to follow and they pushed their horses at an easy lope. By noon they were breaking out of the canyons and onto the flats stretching to the northeast. They rode without stopping and forded the Red at dusk. From the top of the bluffs of the north bank, they saw a campfire a half-mile further north. They stepped from their exhausted mounts and let them blow.
    â€œYou got a plan?” Temple asked.
    Pommel pulled the Winchester and examined its condition. “I was hoping we’d still have some light when we caught up with them. This thing won’t do us much good tonight. If we wait till morning to hit them, chances are we’ll lose a couple when they scatter. I’m for hitting them tonight, take the night guard with knives and kill them in their bedrolls.”
    Temple shook his head in disgust. “Bushwhack them like they did our men.”
    â€œExactly. Leave them where they lay with three rocks under their heads so’s folks will know why they were killed.”
    â€œIs that the way you did it in the old days?”
    â€œNo, I wouldn’t have wasted a whole morning burying four dead men. I could have done that on the way back. And, it’s not the old days. We buried two rustlers at home last April.”
    â€œAfter you bushwhacked them?”
    Pommel’s voice showed his impatience. “No, we hung em. We had a posse of seven and the numbers were in our favor. These men are tough and at least one of them is packing a shotgun. How much of an even break do you think you owe him?”
    â€œYou think this is the right bunch?”
    â€œOf course. We’ve followed their trail to this spot. They should be running a cold camp but I figure they never expected your riders to be found so quickly.”
    Temple nodded. “How do we do this?”
    â€œI’ll find the outrider and take care of him. You locate their horses. If they’re tied to a picket line, check for a guard and take care of him. If the ponies are hobbled, get between the camp and the horses with the rustlers silhouetted against the fire. Use that Yellow Boy and don’t let them make it to the dark. It’s hell to pay if you do.”
    Temple hesitated. Pommel could tell he was uneasy.
    â€œWhat?” Pommel asked.
    â€œWhat if they’re not the right men? You’re talking about killing innocent men if they aren’t?”
    â€œIf I come in shooting, they’ll be the men we’re after. I’ll know before I do anything. I’ll check the brands.”
    â€œNo chance of taking them alive?”
    â€œDamn! If we had a posse of twenty, we could worry about their rights. With only you and me we can’t worry about such polite niceties. Either we get your cattle or you go back, sell your herd and become a storekeeper with your step-daddy.”
    Temple flashed anger.
    â€œBoy, you got to fight to hold on to what is yours out here. They’ve killed four of your best men. They’ll drain you dry as long as they’re alive.”
    â€œAlright,” Temple said, still defiant but unwilling to take the argument any further. “I’ll wait for you to make the first move.”
    â€œDon’t get me mixed up with the others. I’ll go for the shotgun man first. I don’t fancy trying to outgun him in the dark.”
    â€œI’ll know which one is you,” Temple said as he stepped into his stirrup.
    Pommel dismounted a hundred yards from the cattle, drew his Remington carbine and made his way to the cattle. It was dark and progress was slow in the rocks and cactus.