Webb's Posse by Ralph Cotton

what I figured at first. But it turns out Will Summers knows his way across the desert. Lucky for us, he’s agreed to guide us the whole way until we run these rascals down. I say we owe himour gratitude for that. What do you say?” Abner Webb began clapping, just enough to prime the rest of the townsmen into doing it. Then he raised his hands to quiet them. “Now, the thing is, we can’t expect Summers to work for free,” said Webb. “So he and I came up with an agreement that gives him forty percent of what bounty we collect.”
    â€œHunh?” The townsmen fell silent again.
    â€œThat moneygrubbing sonsabitch!” said Ned Trent, his attitude changing quickly. “I should have known better.”
    â€œNow hold on, everybody,” Webb said. “I know forty percent sounds steep, but let’s take a look at what we’re getting for that amount. Summers is taking a chance on us getting his fine horses lamed or killed. He’s taking us through country we’d never manage to get through ourselves without getting ambushed or having our throats cut in our sleep….”
    From inside the door of the livery barn, Will Summers smiled to himself, hearing Abner Webb pitch the idea to the townsmen, working hard for his ten percent. Twisting the top of a half-filled bag of grain that the Peltrys had overlooked, Summers hefted it over his shoulder then looked around at the few dusty saddles lined up along a wall. He turned and walked through the door and toward the sound of Abner Webb’s voice.
    In the throng of townsmen, Sherman Dahl turned to Virgil Wilkes and said in a quiet voice, “Are you sure you want to miss all the drinking business while you’re off riding with the posse? Who will tend bar for you?”
    â€œA time like this,” said Virgil, “I’ll have to rely on every man keeping tabs on what he drinks and leaving the money for it in the cigar box under the bar.”
    â€œI understand,” said Dahl. “But as honest as thesemen are, with money in short supply right now…I’d say you’re taking quite a chance. I’d be happy to ride in your place.”
    â€œOh?” said Virgil. “Why the change of mind? A while ago you turned it down, said you had a school to build here.”
    â€œI know,” Dahl replied. “But the fact is, I won’t be building anything here without the funds to build with. If I ride with this posse, I’ll see to it we take the cost of our new school out of the Peltrys’ hides.”
    â€œThat’s powerful talk for a schoolmaster,” said Wilkes. He looked Sherman Dahl up and down. He started to laugh, yet something about the look in Dahl’s eyes advised against it.
    â€œThey burnt down the children’s school,” said Dahl. “In my book that makes them nothing but vermin…cowards and low trash. Let me ride in your place, Mr. Wilkes, sir. I implore you.”
    Virgil Wilkes looked around and scratched his head, a bit embarrassed. “Well,” he grinned, blushing, “I never had anybody
implore
me before, unless they did it while I weren’t looking and I never found out. If it means that much to you, schoolmaster, you go right on ahead. I’ll stay here and tend business. I was just going to show my support.”
    â€œThank you, sir,” said Sherman Dahl, grasping Wilkes’ hand firmly and shaking it. While the two had talked between themselves, Webb had continued pitching Summers’ plan to the townsmen. Summers listened as he walked up behind the crowd from the livery barn.
    â€œHow do we know he ain’t lying about twelve or fourteen thousand dollars?” Ned Trent asked, keeping the wet rag to his nose.
    Before Webb could answer, Will Summers called out “You
don’t
know it” as he parted his waythrough the crowd, the feed sack slung over his shoulder. Trent spun around at the sound of