Hell Riders by Marc Henry

Author:Marc Henry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2012-06-25T04:00:00+00:00

Trap O’Shannon knew how to track, but the idea of having a column of twenty armed soldiers behind him was a big responsibility and it put him a little on edge.

The steady rain had washed away almost all sign of the renegades. For the first two hours, Trap went on little more than instinct and the fact that there were very few directions meant anyone could take a horse in the jagged confines of the red rock canyon. As the sandstone walls began to fan out, the options for travel increased and the tension mounted inside the young tracker.

He moved slowly, leading his little black gelding, stooping now and then to study a bit of compressed gravel or crushed vegetation. Often, he had little more to go on than a flake of earth that looked out of place for its surroundings or the telltale scuff a hoof might leave behind on wet rock. Always, he was aware of the soldiers behind him, pressing him. The rattle of bits and groan of horses added to his stress.

Luckily, the rain had not come as hard on the far side of the mountains. Trap was relieved to find the faint tracks of unshod horses weaving in and out between the pungent creosote bushes and chaparral. The ground softened and the trail became easier to follow just before sundown.

“We’ll stop up there by that little creek and rest the horses,” Roman said, pointing with his gauntlet at a line of scrubby salt cedars.

“Beggin’ your pardon, Lieutenant,” Clay said, drawing rein beside the officer. “But these animals look mighty near worn out and we haven’t been gone more than a few hours.”

Trap had been so focused on the trail he hadn’t noticed how poor and stumble-footed most of the Army mounts were. Roman’s was in good flesh, as was Private Webber’s bay and a handful of others, but by and large the horses were winded and hollow-eyed.

Lieutenant Roman rested both hands on the smooth pommel of his McClellan saddle. “Yes, Mr. Madsen, I’m afraid they are. All the best stock went out after Victorio, along with Mr. Seiber and Captain Rollins’ company. I’m afraid bringing in a couple of renegade mule thieves didn’t rate high on the colonel’s priorities when it came to doling out supplies and horseflesh.”

Fifty yards from the creek, Trap pulled up short and scanned the darkening horizon. He slid off his horse and studied the mass of tracks before him in the dust. At least ten new riders had joined the two renegades, maybe as many as fifteen.

It was getting too dark to see well, but Trap could tell the new horses were shod, so if they were Indians they were riding stolen ponies.

Still, something nagged at Trap as he studied the tracks in the long shadows of waning light. He nodded his head slowly when he’d figured it out.

Trap looked up at Roman as the young officer rode up along side him.

“Sir.” Trap gazed into the gathering darkness and shivered in spite of himself.

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