Free Gun for Revenge by Steve Hayes Page A

said, pausing amidthe ashes, ‘do I have your word you won’t shoot me?’
    ‘As an officer and a caballero , I swear it so,’ Captain Morales said. ‘Now, where is the gold?’
    ‘Under here.’ Gabriel indicated the charred remains of the clothes’ chest. ‘Buried in the dirt.’
    Captain Morales kept the pistol trained on Gabriel and ordered him to dig up the gold.
    ‘I’ll need your saber.’
    Keeping his pistol trained on Gabriel, the officer drew his sword and stuck it in the ground.
    Gabriel scraped the ashes aside and began to dig. When he was a foot or so down, he uncovered a rusty metal box.
    ‘Help yourself, Capitán .’
    ‘Lift it out.’
    Gabriel obeyed and opened the lid to reveal a canvas sack on which lay coiled a – rattlesnake.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ he said as the alarmed officer jumped back. ‘It’s dead. See,’ he slipped the point of the saber under the snake, lifted it up and in the same motion flung it at Captain Morales.
    The dead snake wrapped around the officer’s face. He stumbled back with a cry. Gabriel jumped him. Slugging Morales with the handle of the sword, he grabbed the pistol and pressed it against the captain’s temple.
    ‘Tell your men to drop their rifles an’ wait for you down at the creek. Do it, goddammit,’ he hissed when the officer hesitated, ‘or I swear to sweet Jesus I’ll put a hole through your brain.’
    Captain Morales grudgingly obeyed.
    Gabriel waited until the six unarmed Rurales were lined up in the hot sun like toy soldiers. Then he let Morales up and told him to join his men. The officer obeyed without uttering a word.
    Gabriel then opened the sack and took out a well-worn gun belt, which was wrapped around a holster containing a Colt .45. He strapped it on, fastened the tie-down around his thigh, pocketed a box of cartridges and carried the sack outside to the stallion. He tucked it under his bedroll, mounted up and rode to the crest of the slope.
    ‘There is no gold,’ he shouted to Captain Morales. ‘Never was. That gold eagle you found, it must’ve belonged to the shooter.’
    ‘It is of no importance,’ Captain Morales replied. ‘I shall hang you anyway.’
    ‘We’ll argue about that later,’ Gabriel said. ‘Right now I’m goin’ after the woman. An’ if you or any of your yahoos try to follow me, I’ll dry-gulch every last one of you.’
    He kicked the stallion into an easy lope and rode off toward the distant mountains.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
    That evening he made camp high in the rocky foothills. Towering above him the mountain peaks formed a jagged skyline. An eagle swept effortlessly over the treetops, its single cry soon lost in the vast silent emptiness.
    Gabriel removed the saddle and bedroll from the stallion’s back, and left the Morgan untied so it could defend itself against any marauding mountain lions.
    A bitter wind off the Sierras kept him shivering. But not wanting to attract bandits, he decided against lighting a fire. There were a few strips of jerky in his saddlebag; he chewed one of them, making each bite last as long as he could. But he couldn’t fool his belly and it grumbled for hot beans and coffee. Consoling himself with the thought that tomorrow he might get lucky and shoot a rabbit or a deer, he stretched out on his bedroll, rifle next to him, and lit a cigar.
    As he smoked, to keep his mind off Ellie he idly toyed with his Peacemaker, spinning the cylinder and twirling the heavy single-action Colt around on his forefinger. The .45 had fancy ebony grips which were worn smooth from constant use, so smooth he could barely make out the initials M. J. engraved on them.
    Mesquite Jennings, he thought wryly. How the hell didhe ever come up with a dime-novel name like that? He chuckled, more from disgust than amusement, and tucked the gun back in its holster. After crossing the border and isolating himself in the cabin, he’d never expected to use it again. He’d also felt that by burying the gun he was