The Legend of El Duque Read Online Free PDF Page A

will.”
    â€œLook,” Lane said, “I’ll get us two more beers and then you can tell me where Adams is goin’. If the boys can’t pick up his trail, they can ride on down to Ol’ Mexico and get there ahead of him. Be there waitin’ for him.”
    â€œYeah,” Hagen said, “yeah, okay.”
    â€œAtta boy,” Lane said, standing and slapping Hagen on the back. “I’ll be right back.”

TEN
    Clint had himself a beer without attracting any attention to himself, then went outside, mounted up, and rode out of Sublette. From there he headed due south. Heading for Colorado. He thought about stopping in Denver to see his friend Talbot Roper. Maybe he could get Roper to tag along and watch his back, but he’d already sent the man a telegram. If Roper was available, he’d meet Clint at that little border town, or send him a reply. He had also sent telegrams to Bat Masterson, Bass Reeves, and a couple of friends across the border in Mexico. They all had their own lives, but if they were available, they’d be there to help him.
    It would be some time before he reached the Mexican border. Riding through Colorado and New Mexico, he might even think of somebody else he could ask for help. There was a man named John Locke who lived just outside Las Vegas in New Mexico. He was certainly a possibility. Looking for help from someone in Arizona or Texas would just be going too far out of his way. Don Pablo Sandoval was expecting him to arrive at a certain time, and to be more than a few days off from that would not do. The man undoubtedly had other offers for his prized bull. Clint had to get there in time, and make the buy.
    * * *
    It took them a full day to find his trail. They had to double back to the Werter ranch, pick it up, and follow it precisely. It led them to Sublette, where Steiger sent Sheriff Lane a telegram.
    Tibbs and Jerome were waiting in the saloon when Steiger entered with the reply.
    â€œWhat’s he say?” Tibbs asked.
    â€œHe leaves it up to us,” Steiger said. “We can follow his trail and try to catch up, or head for Mexico in a straight line and possibly beat him there.”
    He didn’t add that the words “you idiots” were in the telegram several times.
    â€œSo,” Tibbs asked Steiger, “what do we do?”
    â€œInstead of trying to catch him, I’d rather get ahead of him,” Steiger said. “Let’s ride for Mexico.”
    â€œNow?” Jerome asked.
    â€œAfter a quick somethin’ to eat,” Steiger said.
    â€œGood,” Tibbs said. “I’m starved.”
    * * *
    Clint bypassed Denver a few days later and camped just outside Canyon City. In the morning he’d ride in and replenish his meager supplies. He thought about stopping in Trinidad later in the week before leaving Colorado, but Bat Masterson was long gone from there. He’d rather bypass that town and then stop in Taos for more supplies. He was only carrying enough for a few days at a time, but a packhorse simply would have slowed him down too much.
    He’d been sleeping lightly when he camped, feeling that it was better to expect trouble than not. He managed to get some sleep, depending on Eclipse to warn him if anyone got close to their camp. The horse was better on watch than most men Clint had ridden the trail with.
    He awoke in the morning, made himself some coffee, and had beef jerky for breakfast before dousing the fire, saddling up, and hitting the trail again. He didn’t see anybody trailing behind him, but more important than that, he didn’t have that feeling between his shoulder blades that he got when someone was on his trail. That could mean only one thing to him. He’d managed to hide his route from them, so they were heading straight to Mexico, trying to get there ahead of him.
    At least that would make the ride to the Mexican border less of a concern.

ELEVEN
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