Novel 1963 - Fallon (v5.0) Read Online Free PDF

were, and had no intention of appearing in the firelight where he might make a good target.
    Jim Blane backed into the darkness and Fallon cut the ropes loose with his bowie knife.
    â€œNow disarm that man and get him out of here.”
    â€œThe man’s hurt!” Jim said again.
    â€œHe asked for it. You get him out of here. I’ll stay out of the light. They might still be around.”
    When the outlaw was gone, Jim walked back to the fire, carrying the rifle and gun belt. His face was pale with anger. “That was the most cold-blooded thing I ever saw!” he said. “As far as I’m concerned, I want nothing more to do with you!”
    Fallon listened into the night with careful attention.
    â€œStay out of the light,” he said, and then he added, “When I came up they were fixing to burn your feet. You seem to have forgotten that.”
    From the silence that followed it was obvious that in his anger Jim really had forgotten. “They would never have done it,” he said after a while. “They were trying to scare me.”
    â€œWhat do you suppose would happen to your ma and your sister if they got hold of them? That was what they wanted to know, wasn’t it?”
    Jim Blane did not speak. He was still angry, and he did not believe men would do such things, even though these men had been drinking and talked rough.
    Fallon explained about the Bellows outfit. They had been riders with Quantrill and Bloody Bill Anderson, and had come west in a body. Disguised as Indians, they had attacked several wagon trains and a few outlying settlements.
    Yet even as he spoke, he knew he probably was wasting his time. To those who have lived a sheltered life, exposed to no danger or brutality, only the actual sight of something of the kind will convince. Each person views the world in the light of his own experience.
    â€œThey found an old miner,” Fallon went on, “who was supposed to have some hidden gold. They tortured him for hours until he died, and a friend of mine who found the body was sick after seeing it.”
    â€œI can’t believe that.”
    â€œYour choice.” Fallon leaned back against a boulder and put his Winchester across his lap. “Blane, I’m going to tell you something once, and never again. This is a different country than you’re used to, so I’ll let that comment ride, because you’re so damned ignorant.”
    Blane turned sharply, but Fallon continued. “You imply out here that a man is a liar, and you’d better be ready to draw a gun. We don’t stand for that kind of loose-mouthed talk.”
    â€œI think—”
    â€œI don’t give a damn what you think.”
    Fallon got up and walked to his horse. Stripping off the saddle and bridle, he put on a hackamore and picket-rope, then he rubbed the exhausted animal down with handsful of grass, talking to it meanwhile. The horse was worth a dozen men as a sentinel, for even an exhausted mustang, bred in the wild, would sense anything that came close.
    When Fallon walked back to where Jim Blane was, he saw the boy was asleep. He looked down at him thoughtfully. A husky, nice-looking kid, and he would learn. They all had to learn, only some of them didn’t last long enough.
    Awakening with the first gray light, Fallon went to the wagon and found the coffee. When young Jim opened his eyes the coffee was ready, and so was some bacon.
    â€œEat up,” Fallon advised. “They’ll be coming soon.”
    â€œPa won’t be here for hours. He won’t start until it’s light.”
    â€œHe’s on his way now. He should be here in about twenty minutes.”
    Jim went to the water barrel and splashed water on his face and hair. He combed his hair and came back to the fire.
    The sky was cloudless, the dry lake on whose edge the wagon stood was a blank waste of grayish white, touched only here and there along the edges with gray brush,