Vengeance Trail (The Lawmen Western #4) by J.B. Dancer

Author:J.B. Dancer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: wild west, elmore leonard, american west, john harvey, piccadilly publishing, piccadilly cowboys, outlaws lawmen, angus wells, cormac mcarthy, bn rundell
Publisher: Piccadilly

Chapter Eight

CHEEVER TOOK HIS men fast down the Alexandria road. He wasn’t exactly sure where he would go from there, but just then his main concern was to get the gold clear. It was impossible to be certain how many Union supporters were coming after them, nor how many of the uncommitted folks in Natchez would side with the Northerners. The most important thing was to take the gold clear of the fighting and stow it someplace safe from Federal hands.

Alexandria was the best bet. It was on the Red River, and from there it should be possible to find a boat or a raft to ship the wagon south to Baton Rouge and New Orleans, then find a boat to take it round the coast. Alternatively, Alexandria gave access to Texas, and that state, Cheever was confident, would opt for the South when the war really hotted up.

He rode ahead, picking the trail for Holdstock. Young Davey Duggan rode shotgun alongside the old man, and Tobe Evans, with Thorne and Wilson followed close behind. McQueen, Bronson and Coburn hung back as rearguard. Hopefully they wouldn’t be needed. Hopefully, Coombs and Wakefield could eliminate pursuit.

Cheever didn’t know that Coombs and Wakefield were lost and gone.

He went on through the lush greenery of Louisiana, slapping at the flies buzzing round his face. This section of the state was intercut with the streams feeding into the Mississippi, and the green water of the bayous made a perfect breeding ground for mosquitoes, midges and wasps. The trees stood up high and wide all around, spreading branches thick with moss and crawling things like a canopy over the roadway. Light filtered down through a web of foliage, shaded green and pale, smoky-blue by the branches. It was like riding through a dream, except that the biting of the insects intruded stark reality on the fantastic landscape.

In a while the light faded and the bayous got noisy with animal life. Alligators groaned and bellowed in the waterways, and wild cats screamed as they began to hunt. The horses, unused to the din, got nervous and Cheever called a halt.

They camped in an open space, waiting to build fires until word came in from Coombs and Wakefield.

It got late.

“They ain’t comin’ back.” Holdstock lit a corncob pipe and puffed it to smoky life. “I reckon they got killed.”

“Maybe we should ride back an’ check,” suggested Duggan.

Cheever shook his head. “No. No point. If they ain’t here by now they must be dead.”

“How?” grunted Coburn, wiping sweat from his angular face. “We never heard no shots an’ there ain’t sign of anyone comin’ after us.”

“We might not hear the shots through this.” Cheever gestured at the heavy overlay of foliage. “They could be killed back there without us ever knowin’.”

“So where’s the posse?” asked Wilson. “How come we’ve not seen any pursuit.”

“Maybe they gave up,” said McQueen. “Maybe they decided it wasn’t worth chasin’ us more.”

“Could be.” Bronson slapped irritably at something large and furry that buzzed by his swarthy face.

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