Black Hills (9781101559116) Read Online Free PDF Page B

door, looking neither right nor left, they were coming neatly into line just as his pa had said. Looking down the valley between the barrels, Cormac set the sights between the centermost riders. The buckshot pattern would spread in both directions to encompass all four. He could almost hear his pa’s voice: “Wait . . . wait. . . . Hold it . . . wait.”
    The doves were making the turn and coming into formation. “Just a little longer . . . wait . . . let them get into the pocket . . . wait.” The far doves came around into perfect alignment, heads all in one neat row. As their distance to the house increased, each was just a little in front of the one next to him, as if having a photograph taken, each wanting to make sure his face could be seen perfectly.
    Cormac wanted them to know who and why. “Hey!” he said quietly. Their faces turned in unison, seeing him, and, in the same instant, the red rose of fire mushrooming from both barrels of the shotgun as Cormac pulled both triggers simultaneously. The gun roared, the horses bolted, and the girl—her fear and emotion so tightly held bursting loose—screamed hysterically. Cormac Lynch grabbed the corner of the house to keep from being knocked off the rain barrel as the heads of four vile human beings bounced mangled and bloody into the dirt. Vengeance was far swifter than befitted the likes of them, was far better than they deserved.

CHAPTER 3
    C ormac Lynch pulled rein on the hill when they spotted her wagon. She suggested he come along and introduce himself, but she didn’t really mean it, and he didn’t believe that him being Cormac Lynch was going to particularly impress anybody. She obviously didn’t like him anyway. Finding the wagon as it bounced its way slowly across the prairie had been no problem. Getting her calmed down had been a different story.
    No matter that she had not been showing it, anyone in her situation would have been frightened, and the sudden and unexpected blast of the shotgun and spurts of blood had pushed her over the edge. As her horse bolted, she half-fell and half-scrambled off and ran away, screaming and shaking and falling and crawling and trying to stay away from the terrible person who had just blown the heads off four people.
    When he caught her, she began swinging her arms and fists like a wild woman, still screaming at the top of her lungs. A few times, she connected—it hurt. She was taller than Becky had been and stronger than she looked. Once her hysteria had worn itself out, she regained her self-control and was no longer afraid.
    She allowed herself to be led into the house, her eyes all the while burning holes through him and looking at him with hatred, anger, and disgust like he was some sort of monster. He had just blown the heads off four people. Eventually she told him who she was and what had happened to her.
    Suddenly Cormac’s stomach started sounding like a bear fresh out of hibernation, and he realized it was his second day without food. He was hungry enough to eat saddle leather if he could soak it in a little gravy for a while first. He had promised that if she let him fix her something to eat, he would see her back to her wagon.
    They ate in near silence. He tried to talk her up a couple times, telling her how brave he thought she had been. Without going into detail, he explained that his family had been killed and what had just taken place was a result of that, but it made no never mind; she was having none of it. Staring at him with bitterness, she ate little. He had just saved her from horrors she could not possibly imagine, yet Cormac Lynch was a bad guy. Fine.
    Theirs was a Conestoga wagon. His pa had explained to him that most folks simply used a farmer’s wagon with a tarp over it to protect the goods and passengers. A Conestoga wagon was more costly but could carry a heavier load, and although it leaked a little, would float long enough to get across