Page 24 of Wagon Train Hope
The riders were bearing down on them, but Walt and Joe dashed to assist. They worked on the inside of the three-sided enclosure, so they didn’t present a broad-back target.
Irene spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “I aim to shoot to kill.”
“Maybe we should ascertain their intentions first.” Gabe’s voice carried a warning note.
The five riders reined and studied the wagons.
“Ain’t much here.” A swarthy man observed.
“People don’t travel without coin to buy vittles.” Lean as a whip, the speaker curled his lips into a mocking snarl as a nasty drawl slithered into his words.
The three others hung back, awaiting orders from the two leaders.
“Where’s the half-breed?” Whip-thin called. “We wasn’t done havin’ our fun with him.”
Gabe stepped into full view. “Boys, we have nothing of interest to you. We’re just a family moving west. State your business and move on.”
“Movin’ west, huh? Lookin’ fer gold?” Whip-thin sneered.
“No. We’re going to resettle.”
Swarthy edged away from the others. He poked his rifle at the canvas of Hazel’s wagon.
Irene kept her gun trained on him, praying he wouldn’t see her as she clung to the wagon’s shadowed side.
Petey gave a muffled cry, even though Hazel would be doing her best to keep her son quiet.
“Well, well. Sound like the half-breed has a young’un.” Swarthy strode to the back of the wagon and yanked open the canvas that had been drawn tight to provide privacy.
He jumped down. “I found meself two pretty ladies.”
His glee scraped across Irene’s nerves. Still unnoticed by the intruder, she eased forward. She jabbed her rifle to the man’s back. “If you don’t move on, you’ll find yourself with a hole between your shoulders.” She’d never shot a man, not even shot toward one, but she’d stop this one in his tracks if he didn’t move on and leave her sister and friend alone.
From the corner of her eyes, she caught Walt’s movements. He sprang forward, snagged the man’s gun, then grabbed the reins and pulled his animal away. “Best do as she says.”
Irene poked the man, forcing him to move after his horse.
His partners gawked at their leader being driven from the wagons, a woman at his back, a man leading his horse.
Whip-thin lifted his rifle in Walt’s direction.
A shot rang out. Whip’s arm jerked back, and his gun went flying.
“You shot at me.” He scowled at Irene, rubbing the hand she’d shot his gun from.
Yes, she had, and she’d do it again if she had to. “Drop your guns.”
The other three did as she ordered.
Cecil, Joe, and Gabe eased forward, cautious but ready to spring into action.
“What are ya gonna do with us?” one of the three asked, a whine shrilling his voice.
“Shut up,” Whip said.
“Get off your horses.” Gabe’s unyielding rifle should have persuaded the men to obey, but the three underlings looked at Whip, waiting for his orders.
A shot at the ground in front of Whip’s horse sent the animal fishtailing and unseated his rider. The shot had come from Walt’s direction.
