look at him.
It was Mr. Jones.
“I’m riding out to meet ’em,” we could hear him say. “I should be back later tonight or tomorrow.”
His two companions nodded, and then Mr. Jones kicked up his horse and rode out.
“Was that Mr. Jones?” Kinrich asked in a whisper.
I didn’t trust my voice to be soft. So instead, I just nodded.
I could see the disappointment in Kinrich’s face.
After that we stayed still while Kinrich studied the layout.
The two men never left the fire. They were eating supper, and they were also drinking something from a bottle.
“Button, I ain’t expecting much outta you,” Kinrich said. “When the shooting starts you jump behind that log up ahead and keep your head down.”
I was scared and nervous, but I still managed to nod.
“All right, then; let’s go.”
Kinrich stood abruptly and walked towards the fire.
His sudden movements surprised me, but I recovered and scrambled after him.
Kinrich made no effort to conceal himself. He walked boldly and straightforward, and when we were about forty yards away they heard us coming.
They stood and saw us. They were both surprised, but they recovered quickly. They spread out and stood there as they waited for us.
Kinrich didn’t stop walking until we were only thirty or so feet from them. I was behind Kinrich and off to the right.
“It’s the kid that killed Tom Benson!” one of them said, and then they studied Kinrich. “Who are you?”
“Ben Kinrich,” he replied.
“Ben Kinrich!” They exclaimed, and they glanced at each other. “What do you want?”
“Came over here to ask you a question,” Kinrich explained.
Kinrich stood poised and ready. His gun hand hung down by his side.
“What question?” They asked.
“Wanted to know if you boys were selling rifles to the Injuns,” Kinrich replied.
“Why do you care?”
Kinrich smiled wryly.
“If you are, then I’m going to stop you.”
Neither one said a word. They glanced at each other and looked back at Kinrich.
Kinrich smiled back calmly. As for me, I was a nervous wreck.
It happened suddenly. They both went for their guns, as did Kinrich.
Kinrich seemed to be in no hurry, yet with lightening speed he palmed his six-shooter. He fired two shots into each man, and all the while he had a real calm expression on his face.
The first man Kinrich shot never even cleared leather, and the second man was just bringing his six-shooter up when Kinrich shot him.
Just like that it was over.
Kinrich just stood there, and a wild, almost insane look came over his face. But it passed quickly, and Kinrich reloaded his six-shooter and turned to me.
“Thought I told you to dive behind that log,” he said sternly.
I tried to speak, but couldn’t. I coughed and tried again.
“Didn’t have enough time,” I said.
“Hmm,” Kinrich said as he studied me. “What were you planning on doing with that?”
Kinrich nodded towards my hand.
I looked down, and was surprised to find my six-shooter in my hand.
Chapter seventeen
“What’d I tell you, Button?”
Kinrich had climbed into the back of the wagon, and had lit a match. We were staring at hundreds of rifles and countless boxes of ammunition.
“Lookie here,” Kinrich held up a blue uniform.
“Yankee soldiers?” I asked.
“Yep. One Lieutenant, and two privates.”
“I bet Mr. Jones is the Lieutenant,” I said.
“Be a good bet,” Kinrich agreed as he tossed the uniform aside.
Kinrich was happy.
“You should be proud, Button. We just saved hundreds of Texans’ lives.”
“I didn’t do much,” I said.
“No, don’t reckon you did,” Kinrich said as he climbed back out. “But you showed a lot of sand, Button, standing up to ’em like you did. I can see now how you managed to kill Benson.”
“What are we going to do now?” I wanted to know.
“We’re going to burn the wagon,” Kinrich declared. “That’s the only way we can be sure that them Injuns don’t
It was Mr. Jones.
“I’m riding out to meet ’em,” we could hear him say. “I should be back later tonight or tomorrow.”
His two companions nodded, and then Mr. Jones kicked up his horse and rode out.
“Was that Mr. Jones?” Kinrich asked in a whisper.
I didn’t trust my voice to be soft. So instead, I just nodded.
I could see the disappointment in Kinrich’s face.
After that we stayed still while Kinrich studied the layout.
The two men never left the fire. They were eating supper, and they were also drinking something from a bottle.
“Button, I ain’t expecting much outta you,” Kinrich said. “When the shooting starts you jump behind that log up ahead and keep your head down.”
I was scared and nervous, but I still managed to nod.
“All right, then; let’s go.”
Kinrich stood abruptly and walked towards the fire.
His sudden movements surprised me, but I recovered and scrambled after him.
Kinrich made no effort to conceal himself. He walked boldly and straightforward, and when we were about forty yards away they heard us coming.
They stood and saw us. They were both surprised, but they recovered quickly. They spread out and stood there as they waited for us.
Kinrich didn’t stop walking until we were only thirty or so feet from them. I was behind Kinrich and off to the right.
“It’s the kid that killed Tom Benson!” one of them said, and then they studied Kinrich. “Who are you?”
“Ben Kinrich,” he replied.
“Ben Kinrich!” They exclaimed, and they glanced at each other. “What do you want?”
“Came over here to ask you a question,” Kinrich explained.
Kinrich stood poised and ready. His gun hand hung down by his side.
“What question?” They asked.
“Wanted to know if you boys were selling rifles to the Injuns,” Kinrich replied.
“Why do you care?”
Kinrich smiled wryly.
“If you are, then I’m going to stop you.”
Neither one said a word. They glanced at each other and looked back at Kinrich.
Kinrich smiled back calmly. As for me, I was a nervous wreck.
It happened suddenly. They both went for their guns, as did Kinrich.
Kinrich seemed to be in no hurry, yet with lightening speed he palmed his six-shooter. He fired two shots into each man, and all the while he had a real calm expression on his face.
The first man Kinrich shot never even cleared leather, and the second man was just bringing his six-shooter up when Kinrich shot him.
Just like that it was over.
Kinrich just stood there, and a wild, almost insane look came over his face. But it passed quickly, and Kinrich reloaded his six-shooter and turned to me.
“Thought I told you to dive behind that log,” he said sternly.
I tried to speak, but couldn’t. I coughed and tried again.
“Didn’t have enough time,” I said.
“Hmm,” Kinrich said as he studied me. “What were you planning on doing with that?”
Kinrich nodded towards my hand.
I looked down, and was surprised to find my six-shooter in my hand.
Chapter seventeen
“What’d I tell you, Button?”
Kinrich had climbed into the back of the wagon, and had lit a match. We were staring at hundreds of rifles and countless boxes of ammunition.
“Lookie here,” Kinrich held up a blue uniform.
“Yankee soldiers?” I asked.
“Yep. One Lieutenant, and two privates.”
“I bet Mr. Jones is the Lieutenant,” I said.
“Be a good bet,” Kinrich agreed as he tossed the uniform aside.
Kinrich was happy.
“You should be proud, Button. We just saved hundreds of Texans’ lives.”
“I didn’t do much,” I said.
“No, don’t reckon you did,” Kinrich said as he climbed back out. “But you showed a lot of sand, Button, standing up to ’em like you did. I can see now how you managed to kill Benson.”
“What are we going to do now?” I wanted to know.
“We’re going to burn the wagon,” Kinrich declared. “That’s the only way we can be sure that them Injuns don’t
Similar Books
