Webb's Posse by Ralph Cotton Page B

one of these horses. Get over to the livery barn and grab yourselves a saddle while they last. We’re pulling out of here in ten minutes flat, no ifs or buts about it!”
    As the men scrambled, picking through the two strings of horses hitched at the rail, Abner Webb leaned close to Will Summers and said, “I can’t believe I’m saying it, but damned if we ain’t got ourselves a posse. Think there’s any chance we might run down the Peltry Gang before they even get down in the territory?”
    â€œIt’s possible,” said Summers, “but I wouldn’t count on it. To tell you the truth, it might be better if we don’t.”
    â€œWhy’s that?” Webb asked.
    â€œLook at this bunch of knotheads,” said Summers. “Don’t you think it’d be better to get a few miles behind them first? Let them have time to work all this out in their minds before they get to a point where they might have to drop the hammer on a man?”
    â€œYeah, come to think of it.” Abner Webb’s smile of confidence faded as he considered it, watching all the men except Sherman Dahl scurry away towardthe livery barn. Sherman Dahl took his time, picked out a strong deep-chested bay and stooped down to inspect its forelegs. “I reckon it might be better to let them ride off some steam first at that.”
    â€œYes, it would,” said Summers. “Meanwhile, don’t worry about catching up to the Peltrys. They’re in no big hurry yet. They’ll hit a few places twixt here and the territory. That’s why they cut the telegraph lines…. They want to buy enough time to do some more raiding.”
    Webb gave Summers a look. “You sure seem to know an awful lot about how these kind of people think, Will.”
    â€œDo I?” said Summers. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Chapter 5

    Will Summers stood waiting for Abner Webb on the boardwalk outside the sheriff’s office. On the street, ten of the townsmen sat atop their horses, restless and tense, ready to get under way. At the head of the riders sat Sherman Dahl, calm and collected, his hands lying crossed on his saddle horn. Around his left shoulder he carried a leather possibles bag with a rolled-up blanket tied to the top of it. Next to Sherman Dahl sat Bobby Dewitt, restless but keeping himself in check, fidgeting with a four-foot length of lariat.
    As Will Summers watched the group of mounted men, he saw a bottle of rye rise up in a long swig then go to a pair of reaching hands. He shook his head and murmured, “No respect, Deputy,” as if Abner Webb were beside him. In fact, Abner Webb was still inside the sheriff’s office.
    When Webb finally stepped out of the office and closed and locked the door behind him, Summers looked him up and down. “Are we ever getting out of here?”
    â€œYeah, let’s go,” Webb growled. “I had to leave a letter for the sheriff, let him know what we’re up to.”
    â€œI think it’s a sure bet the doctor or somebody would’ve told him,” said Summers.
    â€œI know,” Webb responded. “I just wanted to tellhim myself. Now I’m ready to ride.” He looked around at the stoic faces of the townsfolk standing along both sides of the street. “I’ll feel better getting out on the trail for a while…let these people get all their gossip out of their system.”
    They stepped down from the boardwalk and toward their horses at the hitch rail. Summers took up his reins, swung up onto his saddle, then caught a glimpse of Edmund Daniels leading a big gray horse down the middle of the street toward them. “I wouldn’t go feeling a lot better just yet, Deputy,” he said. “Look what’s coming here.”
    â€œAw for crying out loud,” Webb said under his breath. “There’s no way in the world I’m allowing him to ride along. I wouldn’t see a