Goodnight's Dream (A Floating Outfit Western Book 4) Read Free Page A

Loving.
‘Unless they call it off now they know they can’t take us by
surprise with a dawn rush.’
    ‘ If they do hold off, Colonel Charlie
ought to be getting here afore long.’
    ‘ And running into odds of
maybe ten to one. You can’t stack up against that
many Kweharehnuh and hope to come out of it winning.’
    ‘ Which won’t stop Colonel Charlie
trying,’ Sid said. ‘We’d best hope that we can down enough of ’em
so they’ll reckon their medicine’s all ways bad when our boys get
here.’
    Nodding grimly, Loving inched himself forward
until he could look along the wall of the rim in each direction.
Despite the area being in shadow, he found no signs of the Comanche
having sent braves across the river to stalk the cave entrance on
foot ready to attack when the main body made their assault.
    Slowly the sun crept up and the dawn’s
grayness lessened by the second. Sid wiped his palms on his shirt
and exchanged a glance with his boss. On the rim, the chief and
many braves sat their horses. At an order from their leader, the
warriors armed with rifles opened fire on the cave. Then the
mounted men swept forward in a fast-moving line. Leaving their
places of concealment, the men with the rifles bounded on to the
mounts led to them by companions. Down the slope thundered the
savage warriors, yelling their war-whoops and exhibiting no caution
or concern at the idea of facing the repeating rifle.
    ‘ Give ’em hell, Sid!’ Loving ordered,
lining his Henry.
    Whipping the carbine to his
shoulder, Sid took aim at what he figured to be the best target. To
lay a better aim at the war-bonnet chief, he extended the barrel of
the Sharps beyond the mouth of the cave. Two brown hands flashed
into view from the wall at the entrance, grasping the barrel and
giving a savage heave at it. Taken by surprise, Sid was jerked
forward and fired the Sharps only to see its bullet throw up sand on the nearer
bank of the stream. Unable to stop himself, the cowhand stumbled
into the open and fell to his knees. Releasing the carbine after
dragging its owner into sight, a Comanche brave snatched the
tomahawk from his belt. Around whistled the sharp blade, biting
into Sid’s skull and tumbling him to the ground.
    An instant later the brave also died.
Swiveling around Loving held his Henry at waist-level but drove a
bullet into the center of the savage, paint-decorated face. Even as
the Comanche went over backwards, another brave came into sight but
from Loving’s side of the entrance. Swiftly the rancher swung his
rifle, working the lever as fast as he could, and fired with the
muzzle almost touching the buck’s chest. Thrown backwards by the
impact, the Indian fell under the feet of two more braves as they
leapt from the way he had come.
    Loving’s thoughts on how so
many Kweharehnuh had managed to cross the river and reach the wall flanking
the entrance undetected received a rapid answer. Coiling down from
above, a rope’s end descended before the mouth of the cave and
agitated violently. Following the rope, a pair of legs slid into
view, followed by the all but naked body of a tuivitsi. At the crack of the Henry, the
young buck released the rope and crashed down.
    Everything was clear to the rancher. During
the night, the chief had sent men across the Pecos out of the
defenders’ range of vision and climb the rim. When ready for the
attack to begin, the men made their descent on ropes taken for that
purpose. It was a smart notion, worthy of a war chief of the
Antelope Comanches. Not even the rapid-fire qualities of the Henry
could save Loving, for more warriors appeared and the rope before
him seemed to be alive as other braves started to climb down.
    Retreating, Loving prepared to sell his life
dearly. Flame lashed from the Navy Colt held by one of the
Comanches and the rancher felt lead burn into him. He reeled back a
pace, the left hand dropping numb and limp to his side. Even as he
let the rifle fall and grabbed at his