The Savage Curse Read Online Free PDF

chance against four men.
    â€œSure, we can do that,” Ben said, surprising John. “Hunger is a mighty powerful coax.”
    â€œHear that, Jubal? A mighty powerful coax. Mister, you got a gift of gab.”
    Ben smiled wanly, as if he had been punched in the stomach. John glanced at him, but Ben was already turning around, reaching for his rifle.
    John got his rifle and carried it to the bank, lay it alongside Ben’s. Ben unbuckled his gunbelt, wrapped it into a wad of leather and cartridges, and set it alongside his rifle. John shrugged and did the same.
    â€œLead your horses on up here,” Cruddy said. “Jubal, you collect their hardware and pass some to Horky and Dan.”
    John’s blood began to boil, but he held his temper as he and Ben walked out of the gully. The leaves on the paloverde trees were losing their color in the twilight and the saguaros stood like silent sentinels as far as the eye could see, broken only by the rising hills with varied geometrical shapes, mesas, spires, cones, flatirons, and buttes. The land took on a mystical quality at that time of day, and such a hush that he could hear his own breathing, the thumping pump of his heart as he climbed onto the flat.
    â€œYou boys can mount up. Just foller us.”
    John turned to his horse and climbed into the saddle. He avoided looking at Ben. Ben could read him too well, even if he kept that blank look on his face. He wanted to strangle Cruddy and was still berating himself for giving up his rifle and pistol.
    He felt naked and vulnerable as he and Ben followed the men. They were prisoners without shackles, disarmed, helpless, and outnumbered.
    Crudder led the procession, which had fallen into a semblance of a military unit with lead rider, flankers, and the half-breed riding drag. They turned right before they reached the butte and entered what appeared to be a narrow defile between two low hills dotted with ocotillo, prickly pear, and cholla. Then Crudder turned right again and they entered a high-walled canyon that was now dark as the sun disappeared. The trail wound through the canyon and twisted through smaller canyons, until it seemed to John that they were in the midst of a puzzling maze.
    â€œWe’ll never find our way back through this,” Ben whispered to John. “If they let us go, or if we escape.”
    â€œIt does not look good,” John admitted.
    Finally, Crudder took a left-hand turn through an opening in the canyon wall and the riders entered it. The fissure narrowed until they were all riding single file through almost total darkness.
    The narrow passage led to an open place that appeared to be enclosed by walls. In the gloom, John made out a number of adobe dwellings, each tucked against a canyon wall, each in shadow. They almost looked like illusions, just faint impressions of doors and windows. The silence was intense until he heard the wind whistling over them, brushing past the high walls in a heavy whisper.
    A fire glimmered in one of the adobe huts. Crudder headed for it. A man stepped out, leveling a rifle at him.
    â€œThat you, Cruddy?”
    â€œYeah, Jake.”
    â€œYou gained a man or two.”
    â€œTwo. We run acrost a pair of owlhooters.”
    â€œWell, come on in. They’s beans in the pot and a chunk of beef floatin’ on the bottom.”
    John looked around for other horses, but didn’t see any. Crudder dismounted and walked up to the man he had called Jake. He handed the reins of his horse to Jake and then beckoned to John to dismount.
    â€œThis here’s Jake Ward. He’ll put up your horse.”
    Ward took the reins from John, handed them to Horky. John looked at Ward a long time, watched the way he walked. Something about him seemed familiar.
    â€œI didn’t get your name, I reckon,” Crudder said, breaking into John’s thoughts. John thought quickly.
    â€œLogan. Johnny Logan,” he said quickly.
    â€œWell, Johnny,