Free Brotherhood of Evil by William W. Johnstone

the ground beside him.
    He heard a man muttering curses somewhere not far away. Had he hit the varmint trying to flank him? It was possible, he supposed, but it would have been pure luck if he did.
    Of course, everybody could use a little good luck now and then.
    â€œGreen?” Joe called tentatively. “Green, are you all right?”
    â€œShut up, you damn fool!” came the harsh reply. Green sounded like he was in pain, no doubt about that. Pearlie was more convinced that he had winged the damn outlaw by accident.
    Somebody else was coming. Pearlie heard them crashing through the brush behind him. Might be Cal, might even be Sally or Ben Hardy or all three of them.
    Might be the other owlhoot, too. What had they called him? Larson?
    Pearlie shifted his grip a little on the rifle and squirmed backwards. He angled to the side and wound up under some thick brush. The branches snagged his clothes and scratched him, but he ignored that minor annoyance.
    â€œGreen! Green, don’t shoot! It’s me! I’m comin’ in!”
    That was Larson, all right. He staggered past close enough that Pearlie could have thrust out the rifle barrel and tripped him.
    He didn’t. He was outnumbered three to one and didn’t know what had happened to his companions. Giving up on a fight rubbed him the wrong way, but Sally could be hurt bad and need help. The same was true of Cal and Hardy. Finding out what had happened to them had to come before stopping those three hardcases, whether Pearlie liked it or not.
    â€œDamn it. You’re shot up.” That was Green’s voice again. “Joe, get the horses.”
    Joe whined, “You said we had to stay here until the boss—”
    Green exploded. “To hell with the boss! Jensen’s men know we’re here.”
    â€œListen, Green,” Larson babbled. “I . . . I found out something . . .”
    That was all Pearlie heard as the men’s voices faded. He stayed where he was. A couple minutes later he heard the swift rataplan of hoofbeats as the three outlaws fled.
    He had just gotten to his feet with the rifle in his hands when he heard a low call.
    â€œPearlie!”
    That was the kid. Pearlie responded, “Over here, Cal!”
    Relief flooded through the foreman when he saw that Sally was with Cal. He looked them both over quickly and didn’t see any blood on their clothes.
    Sally clutched his arm. “Are you all right, Pearlie?”
    â€œYeah, I’m fine, I reckon. What about Hardy?”
    Sally’s face was grim as she shook her head.
    Pearlie always tried to watch his language around women, but he grated out, “Damn.” He hadn’t known Hardy that well, but the puncher had seemed like a decent hombre.
    â€œWhat about those men?” Cal asked.
    Pearlie jerked his head toward the north.
    â€œThey lit a shuck outta here. One of ’em had a busted wing, and I think a second one was hit, too. They decided to take off for the tall and uncut while they still could.” He grimaced and shook his head. “Sorry I let ’em get away, Miss Sally. I was worried about you and the youngster here.”
    â€œDon’t be silly,” she told him. “I think we all burned enough powder today. We need to get poor Ben back to the ranch and see to it that he’s laid to rest properly.” She looked in the direction the outlaws had fled. “I’d still like to know who those men were and what they were doing here, but if they don’t come back, I suppose it doesn’t matter.”
    â€œSomebody sent ’em here and told ’em to wait. I know that from listenin’ to what they said, so I wouldn’t place any bets on ’em not comin’ back.” Pearlie’s mouth was a bleak line under the drooping mustache as he added, “Whatever they were up to, I got a hunch they ain’t done yet.”

Chapter 15
    Men who rode the dark and lonely trails knew the