Bad Men Die Read Online Free PDF Page B

untied McCluskey’s ankles and stepped back quickly, drawing one of his guns. “Get down,” he ordered.
    McCluskey kicked his feet free of the stirrups, swung his right leg over the horse’s back, and slid to the ground. He landed awkwardly and almost fell before righting himself.
    â€œTurn around.” Luke didn’t holster the Remington until McCluskey was facing away from him, then he took a pair of leg irons from one of his saddlebags and snapped them around McCluskey’s ankles. The chain had just enough play to let the outlaw shuffle along a few inches at a time.
    When his ankles were secure, Luke unlocked the handcuffs, again stepping back swiftly so McCluskey wouldn’t have a chance to spin around and make a grab for him.
    â€œThere are some bushes right over there,” Luke told him. “Go take care of your business, then we’ll have something to eat.”
    Moving slowly and tentatively, like a little old man, McCluskey headed toward the bushes.
    â€œStay where I can see your head and shoulders,” Luke added as he started gathering fallen branches to build a fire on a rocky spot near the edge of the gully.
    He glanced toward McCluskey now and then as he got the fire going and set the coffeepot at the edge of the flames to boil. After a few minutes the outlaw emerged from the brush and shuffled over to stand next to the fire, across from Luke.
    â€œHow about leaving the cuffs off until after we’ve eaten?” he asked. “It’d sure make things a lot easier.”
    â€œFor you or for me?” Luke asked.
    â€œHell, for both of us. You don’t want to have to feed me and give me drinks from a coffee cup, do you?”
    As a matter of fact, Luke didn’t. As he straightened, he reached for his gun, thinking he could make McCluskey back off, then set the man’s food and drink on the other side of the fire and cover him while he ate.
    He didn’t get the chance. Before he could draw the Remington, McCluskey launched himself across the flames in a diving tackle that caught Luke around the waist.
    Caught by surprise, Luke was slow to react just enough to give McCluskey a chance. The impact of their collision drove Luke backward, and suddenly there was nothing underneath his boots except empty air. McCluskey had knocked him off the edge of the gulley.
    A second later, Luke’s feet hit the sloping side of the wash, but it was too steep for him to catch his balance. He kept toppling toward the bottom with McCluskey hanging onto him. As they rolled over and over, the outlaw grabbed desperately for one of Luke’s guns.
    Luke’s head smashed against a rock on the side of the gully with stunning force. Barely aware that his prisoner had succeeded in snatching one of the Remingtons from its holster, the realization shot through Luke’s brain just in time for him to wrap his left hand around the barrel and shove it aside as McCluskey pulled the trigger.
    The gun’s muzzle was so close to Luke’s ear that the shot slammed against it like a physical blow. The bullet screamed past his head and plowed harmlessly into the side of the gully. As they rolled, McCluskey’s face loomed above him, so Luke jabbed a fist into it, striking the outlaw squarely in the nose.
    He knew from experience that being hit like that stung like blazes and was enough to incapacitate a man for a few seconds. Luke tried to seize that advantage by locking his right hand around McCluskey’s throat. He squeezed hard enough to make McCluskey’s eyes bulge out.
    They hit the bottom of the wash with enough force to jolt them apart. Luke grabbed for the other revolver, but he found only an empty holster. The gun had come out during their mad tumble down the slope.
    He rolled and kicked just as McCluskey tried to bring the Remington to bear on him. The toe of his boot struck McCluskey’s wrist and knocked the gun out of his hand. It flew a good ten feet