Ralph Compton Whiskey River Read Online Free PDF Page B

horses,” Estrello bawled. “Shoot to kill.”
    All hope gone, Amanda and Betsy ran for the shadows along the Washita. Lead sang like bees, and a slug burned a furrow along the inside of Amanda’s left thigh. Lead ripped across Betsy’s chest from left to right, and she fell.
    â€œHow bad?” Amanda demanded, dropping to her knees beside Betsy.
    â€œIt took some hide off my chest where I can’t afford to lose any,” said Betsy.
    The two fugitives got to their feet, and the shooting had all but died away.
    â€œSave your shells,” shouted Wolf Estrello. “I want some of you watching those horses and mules for the rest of the night.”
    â€œThere goes our only hope,” Amanda said. “If we escape, it’ll have to be afoot. We’ll have until dawn to reach the Red and cross into Texas.”
    â€œWe don’t know they won’t cross the Red and come into Texas after us,” said Betsy. “We humiliated Estrello, and he’d planned on using us to make up for that tonight. Now he’s hotter than seven kinds of hell.”
    â€œI wish we could follow the river,” Amanda said. “It’ll be awful easy for us to get lost and turned around, traveling in a circle.”
    â€œWe must travel south, toward the Red,” said Betsy. “We’ll be sure the North Star is always behind us. Come on.”

Indian Territory. July 17, 1866.
    â€œMaybe you was right, pullin’ away from the Washita,” Mark Rogers said. “If we was told the truth at Fort Worth, that bunch of outlaws is holed up somewhere along the river a few miles north of the Red. We can make a better case for ourselves, ridin’ north, which is the quickest way out of Texas.”
    â€œFor that matter, the Washita flows into the Red,” said Bill, “but it’s too far south. If that bunch of renegades is holed up in Indian Territory, they won’t be camped on or near the Red. I figure we can follow the Red south, until just before it crooks into Arkansas. From there, we’ll follow the Washita north. At least, it won’t look like we come straight from Fort Worth.”
    Still avoiding the Washita River, Mark and Bill found a spring hidden away in a mass of trees and boulders. Their supper fire wouldn’t be visible for more than a few feet away, and the trees would dissipate the smoke. They unsaddled their horses. Bill started a fire, while Mark hacked off some bacon. Suddenly, Bill dropped to the ground belly-down, pulling his Colt. Unsure as to what had startled Bill, Mark had drawn his own weapon.
    â€œYou’re covered,” Bill said. “If you have weapons, throw them out ahead of you and come out with your hands up.”
    â€œWe don’t have any weapons,” said a frightened voice. “It’s my sister and me, and we don’t have a stitch of clothes between us. We’re hungry.”
    â€œCome on, then,” Bill said.
    The two of them came forth, so weary and hungry it seemed their nakedness no longer bothered them. One of them had a lead burn across her chest, while the other had bled from a wound inside her left thigh. Briars and thorns had raked them unmercifully, and they were a bloody mess. But Mark Rogers and Bill Harder were temporarily speechless. The two girls seemed identical in the pale starlight. Mark recovered first.
    â€œThe two of you need some doctoring. We have some clean bandages and a couple of tins of salve, if you . . . uh . . .”
    â€œWe trust you,” said Amanda. “While you’re doing that, we’ll tell you what’s happened to us. I’m Amanda Miles, and this is Betsy, my sister. We ran away from a bunch of outlaws, after the leader of the gang stripped us.”
    â€œIt’s not nearly as simple as it sounds,” Betsy said. “Perhaps we’d better start at the first, when old Jake took us to the camp.”
    Bill had spread a blanket. The