Free High Valley Manhunt: Laramie Davies #1 by B. S. Dunn Page A

onto
the ground, “Damn you.”
    There
was more commotion as Slate was pushed into the camp by Benny and
Cato. He looked at Laramie, fear etched deep into his face, “I'm
sorry Laramie,” he apologised, “I fell asleep. I'm so
sorry.”
    “Don't
worry about it kid,” he said softly, “it could've
happened to anyone.”
    Harbin
pushed Sally aside and walked purposefully over to Slate, who knew
what was about to happen.
    “Well,
well. If it isn't the double-crosser. Do you remember when you joined
our little band, what it was that I said about double-crossers? And
do you remember what I said would happen if you ever double-crossed
me?”
    Slate
remained silent.
    “Do
you?” Harbin snapped.
    Benny
and Cato stepped away as Slate nodded weakly.
    “Leave
him be Harbin!” Laramie snapped.
    Blackie
Harbin gave Laramie a look of pure evil and said, “He was
warned.”
    Harbin
swiftly drew one of his pearl handled Colts and shot Slate in the
head. It snapped back savagely as the .45 calibre slug blew blood and
gore out the back when it exited.
    Laramie
squeezed his eyes shut as rage built up inside of him. He tried to
block out the laugh of Benny and the cry of anguish that escaped from
Sally. He drew in a couple of deep breaths and opened his eyes.
    “I'm
goin' to kill you for that Harbin,” Laramie said coldly, “just
you wait and see. It may not be tonight, but it will happen. Count on
it.”
    “You
seem to forget, Davis,” Jeb Coltrain hissed in his ear, “I
have a prior claim. On you.”
    He
shoved Laramie forward and the gunfighter staggered a little before
he regained his balance.
    Laramie
looked about in search of Sally. He saw her, on her knees, face in
her hands, as she tried to deal with the cold blooded manner of
Slate's death. Her shoulders trembled as she sobbed silently, the
sight of what Harbin had done, etched deep in her mind alongside that
of the salesman from the stage.
    Laramie
stumbled a couple of steps toward her, but Shell blocked his path,
“Are you goin' somewhere killer?” the deputy asked with a
wicked smile.
    Laramie
made to move around him, but Shell's fist travelled swiftly and the
blow took him in the midriff. He doubled over as the air rushed from
his lungs, and a hammer blow to the back of his head, took him to his
hands and knees in a slump. Through the fog that clouded his mind, he
heard Sally scream for it to stop.
    A hand
grabbed his shirt and dragged him to his feet. Through blurred
vision, Laramie could just make out the face of Shell Coltrain, a
smile plastered across it. He struck a vicious blow to Laramie's face
and split his lips as they mashed against his teeth. A second blow
snapped his head back and it bobbled about, senseless from the last
blow. Blood flowed freely from a cut on his face and. things grew
dark as consciousness began to leave him.
    Shell
let go of Laramie's shirt. The gunfighter collapsed to the ground
with a low moan.
    The
Judge stepped forward and lashed out with his boot, anger and
frustration evident in his actions. It landed solidly and Laramie
felt pain shoot through his ribs. The second blow followed by
another, glanced off his shoulder before it collected him in the side
of the head. Mercifully, darkness finally claimed him.
    “Whoa,
hold on there Judge,” the Sheriff tried to calm his brother,
“Try to leave somethin' for the hangman.”
    The
old man blew hard from his exertions, “Alive or dead he's still
going to hang. You mark my words. He'll hang and everyone will see
what we do to murderers who kill our own.”
    “Tie
him up Shell,” Jeb Coltrain ordered his nephew. “We'll
stay until mornin' and then head back to Rock Springs.”
    Shell
rolled Laramie's prone form over and bound the gunman's hands behind
him with a strip of rawhide. He dragged the body over to where Sally
sat and dropped him roughly to the ground. She immediately started
to tend his wounds to make sure he was okay.
    “May
I have some water?” she asked Shell