Valley of the Gun (9781101607480) by Ralph W. Cotton Page B

toward their horses standing behind them.
    â€œThen by thunder,” said Stone, “I will stay out here, lead them myself!”
    â€œNo, you won’t,” Hall said in a heated voice. “I’m the sheriff, and I’ll say who leads the posse.” He looked at DeShay. “It’s up to you,
Sheriff.
You rode along to help . . . Well, it’s time to help.” He gestured toward the others. “Tell them what you want done.”
    Surprisingly, DeShay turned to Sam.
    â€œWhat’s your take on it, Ranger?” he asked. “You’ve been on their trail longest.”
    Sam nodded and looked at Ragland.
    â€œI know you saw where the gang split up a ways back,” he said. “I’ve got a hunch that’s where Orwick and some top hands cut away there. The other men rode up this trail and robbed the mine payroll.”
    â€œThe mine payroll!” Stone cut in. “What on earth brought you to this speculation?”
    â€œI heard gunfire from up the trail earlier, and this trail ends at the mines,” Sam said. “There’s no other reason for them to go up there.”
    â€œFor God’s sake,” Stone said, “my bank’s money is on the line and all you can come up with are wild hunches?”
    â€œDamn it, Stone!” Hall growled, staring up at him. “Let everybody alone—let them do their jobs.”
    â€œRagland here showed us where they split up,” DeShay said to Sam and Ragland, considering things. “What you’re saying makes sense.”
    Sam nodded and said, “If it’s true, you can bet that wherever Orwick went, the bank money went with him.”
    Sheriff Hall shook his head and chastised himself.
    â€œI should have figured that out myself,” he said under his breath.
    â€œLike I said, it’s only a
hunch,
Sheriff,”
Sam repeated for Hall’s sake. He gave Kerwin Stone a cold look, then turned his eyes back to DeShay and Ragland. “But it’s the best we’ve got right now.”
    â€œI agree,” DeShay said. “What’s our best move from here, Ranger?”
    â€œRagland here is the best tracker among us,” Sam said. “It might be wise for you and your men to ride back where the ones split off, let Ragland keep you on their trail. Whoever is up this mine trail has heard enough gunfire that they’ve broken up and gone down the hillsides every direction.”
    DeShay picked up on the Ranger’s line of thought.
    â€œSo, Dad and his top men already planned to circle below these hills and meet up with these others down on the trail to Ol’ Mex.”
    â€œThere it is,” Sam said. “It’s a hunch, but it’s the only thing that makes sense to me.” He looked at Ragland. “I’ve tracked my bunch this far. You ride back and get this posse onto the others’ trail. Maybe we can squeeze them in between us and get this thing done.”
    â€œI’ll put us right up their shirttails,” Ragland said to DeShay. “You’ve got my word.”
    â€œI know you will,” DeShay said. “I’ve already seen your work.” He looked at Arlis Fletcher and said, “I figure if you’re not as quick with your gun as you are with your mouth, you’d already be dead. Can you take orders from me?”
    â€œWhy, yes, sir, Mr.
Sheriff of Whiskey Bend
,” Fletcher said, belligerent and defiant to a flaw.
    DeShay ignored his sarcasm and looked Morgan Almond up and down.
    â€œWill you be sticking with me?” he asked.
    â€œI come along to catch these thieves,” Almond said. “It ain’t in me to leave a job unfinished.” He jiggled a battered Spencer rifle hanging in his hand. “I hit most what I aim at, rifle or six-shooter.” He patted a big six-shooter holstered on his right hip.
    DeShay nodded. In a no-nonsense tone he said to Almond, Fletcher and Ragland,