Dead Man's Trail (9781101606957) by Frank Leslie Page A

echoes died. If the men he’d brought down had had any intention of getting up or of firing at him from cover of darkness, they didn’t now.
    As the pale powder smoke wafted in front of Yakima, a horse whinnied to his left. Running foot thuds rose. A man cursed, and the horse nickered. Yakima ran toward the man and the frightened horse, leaping deadfalls. He bulled through low branches and brush and when he came out the other side, horse and rider were bounding away from him, toward a charcoal gray escarpment wall.
    Yakima raised the Colt and triggered the two remaining shots as horse and rider bolted around the wall and out of sight, one of Yakima’s slugs slamming the wall with a shrill whine. Hearing the dwindling hoof thuds, Yakima turned and walked back to where Trudy stood in the darkness. He walked past her to stare down at the dark shapes of four fallen men, blood glistening in the starlight. None was moving.
    â€œYou know these bastards?” he asked Trudy, keeping his voice low in case any more stalkers lurked in the darkness.
    â€œNever seen ’em before in my life,” she said, staying where she was. “They musta known about the gold. Seen you leavin’ the ranch.”
    â€œAnd figured I had it,” he said, half to himself, prodding a boot of one of the dead men with the toe of his moccasin.
    The boot he prodded was a low-heeled cavalry boot with worn spurs. The man’s pants were dark blue army-issue, though his coat was a brown-striped, cream-colored blanket coat, and his hat was a dirty Stetson. Yakima looked at the other men, finding nothing about them he recognized or that stood out.
    Quickly, staring down at the dark shapes before him, he reloaded his Colt, wondering who these men were and how they’d known about the gold. Likely claim jumpers who had had their sights on Delbert Clifton for some time. They must have been trailing the man, intending to jump him for the gold before he reached Wolfville. Yakima and Lewis had spoiled their plans. He wished he could have taken one of them alive, but he hadn’t wanted to risk getting Trudy shot.
    He turned to her now as he clicked the Colt’s loading gate closed and spun the cylinder before dropping the pistol into its holster and snapping the keeper thong over the hammer. “What’re you doing out here?” he asked gruffly, walking toward her.
    â€œPa’s goin’ crazy,” she said, her voice quaking slightly as she continued staring toward the dead men. “You saw how he can get. When he gets like that, only Old Judith can handle him. I usually light out for the line shack. Figured on spending a couple nights there and ridin’ back to the ranch after he had a chance to sober up and sweat it out.”
    â€œThose fellas jumped you?”
    She nodded. “They musta been trailin’ you, and then I came along, and they got around me. Scared the pure hell out of me, too!”
    â€œYeah, well, it’s that kind of night.”
    â€œI didn’t even know you were out here. You headin’ for the line shack?”
    Yakima picked up his rifle and began reloading it. “I reckon we had similar ideas.” When he’d loaded the Yellowboy, he set it on his shoulder, then turned and started walking back toward Wolf. “Come on, let’s go find your horse. Gettin’ cold.”
    As he walked back through the brush, Trudy gave a groan behind him. He turned to her. She stood where she’d been standing, favoring one foot and wincing.
    â€œI think . . . I think I twisted my ankle when I fell off my horse,” she said. “Would you mind giving me a hand?”
    He walked to her and looked down at her right foot that she wasn’t putting much weight on. “How bad is it?”
    â€œJust twisted. It’ll be all right in the mornin’, I’m sure. I have thin ankles, and they twist easy. I’ve done it before.”
    Yakima gave a