Free The Savage Trail by Jory Sherman Page A

wrong.”
    There was a long silence between them, a thoughtful silencebefore either man spoke again.
    Ben was the first to break.
    â€œAll right, Johnny Savage. I’ve said my piece, and you want it like this, I’ll be on my way.”
    â€œNow just a damned minute, Ben.”
    Ben hesitated in mid-stride toward his horse.
    Dynamite switched his tail and cocked his ears into rigid cones, staring walleyed at the two men. Gent, standing hipshot,lowered his left hind leg and shook his head, his mane rippling against his neck like the fringes on a Kiowa dancer’s buckskin skirt.
    â€œYeah?” Ben said after several moments had passed.
    â€œI got a conscience.”
    Ben waited for more, then shrugged.
    â€œIt talkin’ to you now, Johnny?”
    â€œSome, I reckon.”
    â€œAnd what’s it sayin’?”
    John sighed. He looked down at the ground, shook his head as if he was struggling with some inner demons. He raised his head and looked straight at Ben, eyes wide open.
    â€œWe’ve been friends a long time, Ben. You probably saved my life up in that cave. I was ready to go down and take on that whole outlaw bunch bare-handed.”
    â€œPeople forget such things all the time, Johnny.”
    â€œWell, I haven’t forgotten. You’ve stuck with me and I know, in my heart, that most of what you say is well meant and probably good advice.”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œYeah, Ben. It’s probably all good advice. For somebody else.”
    â€œIt’s meant for you, Johnny,” Ben said quietly.
    â€œI know. I know. It’s just that I got this big hole inside me and it’s got teeth and it gnaws at me. It wants me to take full measure of the wrong that man Hobart did to me and my family,and all the others who died up on that placer creek. Damn it, I have to go after Hobart. I want him to look into my eyes and see the pain I’ve been carrying ever since you and I buried all those good people. I want . . .”
    â€œI know what you want, Johnny. I’m mad, too. I want revengesame as you. But remember what I told you.”
    â€œI remember. You said if I want revenge, I better dig two graves.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œIf I don’t make Hobart pay for what he did, who does?”
    Ben walked over to John and put a hand on his shoulder. He looked John in the eyes with a kindly expression of his own.
    â€œMaybe some things are best left to Fate or Judgment Day. Hell, I don’t know. ‘Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.’ That’s in the Bible. Maybe you got to leave Hobart to the Lord, if you believe in that sort of thing.”
    â€œDo you?”
    â€œMost of the time,” Ben said.
    â€œWell, I’ve been thinking about that, too, Ben.”
    â€œWhat? Vengeance?”
    â€œThat, and other things. Like maybe if there is a God.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œYou never see him. Or hear him. And the Indians say he’s the Great Spirit. That fits better in my mind than most of what the fire-and-brimstone preachers say. So, if he’s a spirit, he can’t do anything on his own. I mean he can make grass grow and rivers run, but he can’t come down from Heaven and smite somebody with the jawbone of an ass or anything else.”
    â€œYou making some kind of augur here, Johnny?”
    â€œMaybe the Great Spirit uses people to carry out his wishes.” John waited a few seconds. “You think maybe that’s the way it is, Ben?”
    â€œI don’t know. Maybe.”
    â€œAnd maybe that conscience you talk about is Him telling us when something is right or wrong. But He still lets us choose, doesn’t He?”
    â€œI reckon.”
    John smiled.
    â€œSee? I’ve been working it all out in my own mind. Surely God doesn’t want Hobart to get away with murdering so many people. Hell, he’s killed three right here on the road to Cheyenne. God didn’t stop