Larkspur Read Online Free PDF Page B

mouth on him, ain’t he?”
    “Ain’t a Sioux in five mile. Get her, Lantz.”
    Buck stepped back from his horse. “It appears to me you boys are looking for trouble.”
    “Trouble? From you? I ain’t seein’ no backup.” The young one grinned, showing a missing front tooth.
    “Ain’t you that Lenning feller from out at Larkspur? ’Pears to me ya’ve got trouble enough without takin’ on more.”
    “You’re no trouble.” Buck uttered the words softly. “Where I come from you’d not stand knee-high to a short frog. The way I see it you’re not very smart or you’d not be sitting there bunched up for shootin’ with one gun. I’m plannin’ to use two.” His words fell like stones in the silence. “Drop the rope on that pony.”
    “The hell I will!” The kid’s lips drew back in a snarl. “Ya can’t take both of us.”
    “It’d be like shootin’ fish in a barrel. If you’re figgerin’ on making a try for this girl, you’d better think about spending the next week or two here on the mountain. It’ll take about that long for the scavengers to pick your bones clean. I’ll not waste my time buryin’ you.”
    The fat man shifted in his saddle. He was suddenly aware that he had turned his horse so that he was sideways and would have to turn half-around to get off an effective shot.
    It was obvious to Buck that the kid fancied himself a gunhand. More than likely he had already killed his first man—some poor soul who knew more about a plow than a gun. He wore his gun slung low with the holster tied down. He was the one to watch. Buck decided not to wait for him to make the first move. His hand flashed down and came up with his gun.
    “Unbuckle your gun belts . . . now! Drop them or I’ll open up and you’ll be buzzard bait.”
    Lantz cursed. “Air ya knowin’ who yo’re goin’ against?”
    “Yeah. A couple a two-bit turd-heads that aren’t men enough to get a woman without grabbing a helpless little girl.”
    “Helpless? She’s ’bout as helpless as a nest a rattlers!”
    “I hope she bit you good. Now drop your belts. I’ve said it the last time.”
    “Yo’re gettin’ yore way this time, but I’ll be seein’ ya again.” Lantz unbuckled his gun belt and dropped it in the dirt. “Colonel Forsythe’s got plans for ya.”
    “Forsythe’s got scrambled brains if he thinks he’s going to get the Larkspur. Now you, fat man,” Buck snarled. The man unbuckled his gun belt and let it drop to the ground. “Turn and walk your horses back down the trail. Not too fast. I’ll be right behind you.”
    Buck mounted his horse, jerked the pony’s lead rope from Lantz’s hand and flung it to the girl who sat on the ground. He made a motion with his hand for her to stay. He walked his horse behind the two men for a quarter of a mile to the place where the trail ran alongside a steep bank of the creek.
    “Stop here,” he commanded. “And get down.”
    “What for? Ya goin’ to shoot us over a squaw?”
    “Take off your boots.”
    “Godamighty!”
    “I ain’t a doin’ no such.” The fat man hauled himself down out of the saddle.
    “Suit yourself.” Buck drew his gun. “I’ll fill ’em full of holes with you in ’em.”
    Lantz sat down on the ground and pulled off his boots. The fat man leaned against a tree and toed his off.
    “Sit down.” Buck stepped from his horse. He stood for a moment staring down at the two. They both had big holes in their socks. The fat man’s big toe stuck through the end of his. Buck picked up the boots. “Phew! Don’t ya ever wash yore feet?”
    “What’er ya doin’?” Lantz demanded.
    Buck walked to the edge of the bank and sailed first one boot and then the other far out into the rocky stream.
    “I’ll get ya. I swear to God—”
    Buck ignored the outburst. “By the time you find your boots, you’re feet will be cleaner than they’ve been in years.” He took off his hat and hit each of their horses hard on the rump. “H’yaw!