The Collected Short Stories of Louis L'Amour, Volume 2 Read Online Free PDF

could only have been an instant later that he heard the click of a cocking gun hammer, and in that same flashing split second, he hurled himself to one side. The roar of the gun boomed in the ’dobe hut, and the dirt against the wall jumped in an awkward spray even as his own pistol roared. Clip leaped to the door.
    A bullet slammed against the doorjamb not an inch from his head, as he recklessly sprang into the open, both guns bucking. The man staggered, tried to fire again, and then plunged over on his face.
    For a moment, Clip Haynes stood still, the light breeze brushing a lock of hair along his forehead. The sun felt warm against his cheek, and the silent figure on the sand looked sprawled and helpless.
    Automatically, Clip loaded his guns. Then he walked over to the body. Before he knelt, his eyes scanned the rim of the canyon, examining every boulder, every tree. Satisfied, he bent over the fallen man. Then his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. It was the big man who had been so eager to see him lynched the night before, the man who had joined Porter in his protests.
    Clip’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, then he got to his feet. He turned slowly, facing the shack. He stood there a moment carelessly, his thumbs hooked in his belt.
    â€œAll right,” he said finally, “you can come out from behind that shack. With your hands high!”
    Wade Manning stepped out, his hands up. His eyes glinted shrewdly. “Nice going,” he said. “How did you know I was there?”
    Clip shrugged, and indicated the big black horse with a motion of his head. “His ears. He doesn’t miss a thing.” He waited, his eyes cold.
    â€œI suppose you want to know what I’m doing here?”
    â€œExactly. And what you were doing on the canyon trail last night. You seem to be around whenever there’s any shooting going on.”
    â€œI can explain that,” Wade said, smiling a little. “I don’t blame you for being suspicious. After we talked to you at the mine that day, I decided I’d better go back out there and tell you I knew who you were, and to be careful around the men at the mine. And I didn’t want you to jump to conclusions about Landon.”
    â€œWhat’s Rafe Landon to you?” Clip demanded.
    Wade shrugged, rolling a smoke. “Maybe I know men, maybe I don’t,” he affirmed, running his tongue along the paper. “But Rafe sizes up to me like a square shooter.” He glanced up. “And in spite of what Ruth says, I think you are, too.”
    â€œKnow this hombre?” Clip indicated the man on the ground.
    Wade nodded. “Only to see him. He worked for Buff McCarty for a while. Lately he’s been hanging around the Sluice Box. Name’s Dirk Barlow. He’s got a couple of tough-hand brothers.”
    Mounting, they started down the trail together. Clip Haynes glanced out of the corner of his eyes at Manning. He was clean cut, smooth, good-looking. His actions were suspicious, but he didn’t seem the type for a killer.
    Clip frowned a little. So Ruth didn’t like him? Something stirred inside him, and he found himself wishing she felt differently. Then he grinned wryly. A hunted gunman like Clip Haynes getting soft about a girl! There wouldn’t ever be any girls like Ruth for him.
    He looked up, his mind reverting to the former problem. “How about this gent Porter back in town—the one who was so sure I shot Tommy McCarty. Where does he fit in?”
    â€œA bad hombre. Gun-slick, and tough. He killed a prospector his first night in town. About two weeks later he shot it out with a man named Pete Handown.”
    â€œI’ve heard of Handown. This Porter must be fast.”
    â€œHe is. But mostly a fistfighter. He runs with the surviving Barlow brothers—Joe and Gonny. They’re gunmen, too. They’ve figured in most of the trouble around here. But they’ve got a ringleader. Somebody behind the