A Grave for Lassiter Read Online Free PDF Page A

lip. He spun back against the tunnel wall as Holzer yelled for Kiley to get out of the way so he could get in a shot. But Kiley was like a maddened bull, intent on killing with bare hands. Kiley moved in so close that Lassiter was slammed against the wall. Stones began to fall from the pressure of Lassiter’s shoulders. Above it all he could still hear the diminishing pound of Vanderson’s boots, his screams of panic.
    Watching his chance, Lassiter slammed a fist into Kiley’s stomach with such force that it doubled the big man up. For a moment Lassiter used him as a shield against a raging Holzer, who was trying to get in a shot. Throwing Kiley aside, Lassiter snatched up his gun from the floor, rolling aside as Holzer fired. But the bullet screamed off the wall. Rock chips stung Lassiter’s neck.
    Lunging to his feet, Lassiter was around another bend in the tunnel, sprinting after Vanderson. He could see him now, far ahead in faint daylight, poised at the edge of one of the deep holes. He was gingerly moving along an edge of floor that had been left for a pathway.
    When Vanderson started running again, Lassiter yelled a warning. “There’s another hole up ahead. Deeper!”
    But Vanderson, in his terror, didn’t seem to hear him. He was at a hard run, the slam of boots against the stone floor magnified by the narrowing tunnel.
    Lassiter knew he had to make a choice, either keep charging after Herm’s demoralized stepson or make a stand against Holzer and Kiley. He could hear the booming sound made by their boots as they neared the new bend on the tunnel.
    Just as Lassiter started to turn, something crashed into his back. At first, as he was falling, he thought he had been struck by a slab of rock dislodged by concussion because of the gunfire.
    But a split second later he heard the roar of a weapon. Then he was lying on his stomach, unable to move. The dull, grinding pain in his back did not abate with the clenching of his teeth. Somehow he lifted his head. The tunnel seemed to be swinging from side to side before his eyes.

Chapter Four
    Through a film of pain, Lassiter heard a scrape of boots.
    Holzer said, “Got the son of a bitch, by gad. Keep your gun on him, Ed, in case he’s got a twitch of life left in him. I want that belt.”
    â€œMy gun’s under a pile of rocks that fell off the ceiling. . . .”
    â€œTake mine.”
    Lassiter felt himself turned over on his back. His limbs flopped like coils of rope. Despite almost unbearable pain, no sound broke from his half-open mouth, stained with blood from the smashed lip. His eyes were closed.
    â€œHe sure as hell looks dead to me,” said Kiley, peering down. There was a sudden grinding of stone against stone. “More of them damn rocks fallin’!” Kiley cried in alarm. Something thudded against the mine floor, shaking it. Kiley gave another cry. “I’m gettin’ outa here!” He ran.
    Holzer quickly reached under Lassiter’s gunbelt to the belt that held up the canvas pants. Holzer unbuckled it, drew it slithering out of the pants loops.
    Through a forest of dark lashes, a numbed Lassiter watched Holzer slip the new belt through the loops of his pants. He had taken off his gunrig and now buckled it back on. He drew his gun, cocked it and aimed at Lassiter’s head.
    Lassiter lay close enough to touch Holzer’s right boot. Somehow in the moment of peril he felt a reserve of strength. Like a darting snake his hand shot out. Fingers gripped Holzer by an ankle. With all his remaining strength, Lassiter gave a hard pull. It wasn’t enough to topple him, only throw him off balance so that he fired into the mine ceiling instead of Lassiter’s skull.
    Instantly this was followed by an intensified grinding of rock on rock. Slabs of granite worked loose and came crashing down. One landed inches from Lassiter’s head.
    Dazedly he got to his knees as the ground shook and a