Righteous Kill by G. Michael Hopf

Author:G. Michael Hopf [Hopf, G. Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-04-19T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

JULY 12, 1895

SEVEN MILES SOUTHWEST OF GREAT FALLS, MONTANA

“I still can’t get rid of the image of those hogs just devouring poor Harry,” Henry said.

“You keep saying poor Harry this, poor Harry that,” Joseph sniped. “If you want to join your poor ole friend, just let me or Gus know and we can arrange it.”

“I was just sayin’,” Henry said.

“Well, stop saying it,” Joseph said.

“Say, where should we set up this ambush?” Gus asked. He was sore, tired, and all he could think about was sleeping, having not slept much the night before.

“Just up ahead, I recall a nice rock outcropping off the road. There we’ll have a good vantage point.”

“Ah, this might sound like an odd question, but how will we know if they ride past?” Henry asked.

“We’ll figure it out. Stop worrying about every little detail; you’re starting to sound like your ole pal Harry,” Joseph groaned.

The sound of horses and men talking came from just ahead.

Joseph raised his hand and said, “Shush, I hear something.”

The three came to a stop and listened.

Joseph cocked his head and listened intently. The sounds of horses and chatter grew louder, meaning whoever it was were closer.

“Off the road,” Joseph said, pointing to a grove of aspens nearby.

They turned their horses around, but it was too late. Over a small rise came the source of the sound; it was Hemsworth, Billy and Al.

Realizing they’d been spotted, Joseph said, “Come back around and head towards them; otherwise it will seem odd.”

Gus and Henry did as Joseph said without complaint.

Joseph looked intently at the men and saw that the person in the saddle at the end was Al, the man they had been sent to rescue. “Well, I’ll be damned, it’s him,” Joseph said.

“You sure? How do you know?” Henry asked.

“Al is the man riding on the last horse, with the gag in his mouth,” Joseph informed the other two.

“What do we do?” Gus asked.

“We stand our ground and have them approach. We have them outgunned. We offer some conversation to lull them into thinking we’re innocent travelers, then blast them. And, fellas, don’t shoot Al.”

“Which one is Al?” Henry asked.

“The one in shackles…damn fool,” Joseph said.

***

“Riders ahead,” Billy said.

“I see them,” Hemsworth acknowledged.

“Should we ride around them?”

“No, keep going, but we should identify ourselves as marshals.”

“You sure about this? Something doesn’t feel right,” Billy said.

“Is your gut telling you this, or do you see something not right?”

“My gut.”

Hemsworth pulled back on the reins of his horse and came to a stop. Billy did the same. Holding up his hand, he hollered, “United States Marshals.”

Joseph, Gus and Henry slowly rode up, stopping ten or so feet from Hemsworth.

“United States Marshals? How do I know you are who you say you are?” Joseph asked, leaning forward in his saddle, his right hand drawn back and casually sitting on his thigh.

Hemsworth pulled his overcoat to the side to show his badge.

Feigning that he couldn’t see, Joseph squinted and said, “I see a badge that looks like a five-pointed star.

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