Man From Boot Hill Read Free

not what happened.”
    “How do you know?”
    “There’s a set of tracks next to the horse’s that were put down by a pair of boots.”
    “So he led him a ways,” Alan grunted as he got his own horse moving in the direction of Ocean. “Then he mounted up and rode into town. You’re wasting time.”
    J. D. pointed to a narrow strip of dirt leading to the main trail. “The boot prints stop here, but the horse’s go on.”
    “Proves my point.”
    Leaving his own horse behind, J. D. walked slowly around the graveyard. “Those horse tracks didn’t get any deeper after the boots left. That means there wasn’t any weight added.”
    “Now that it’s getting dark, he’ll be harder to find.”
    “Nobody got on that horse’s back, you fucking idiot,” J. D. hissed. “Now shut your mouth and help me find this gravedigger. He’s still around here somewhere.”
    Whether it was due to the tone of J. D.’s voice or the sense he was talking, Alan finally did as he was told and climbed down from his saddle. He was at least right about one thing: It was getting dark awfully fast now that the sun had melted down to a warm glow in the distance.
    Signaling for Alan to circle around the graveyard to the left, J. D. measured his steps carefully and circled around to the right. Since there wasn’t any place for a grown man to hide among the tombstones, both of them focused their attention on the trees. When they met up at the back of the graveyard, Alan waited for his next set of orders.
    “He’s got to be in those trees,” J. D. said.
    “Either that, or he ran into town.”
    “If he did that, he would’ve already been pickedoff. He’s probably just hiding or running for that river we crossed on our way in here.”
    “You think he knows we mean to kill him?”
    Raising his gun and crouching like an animal getting ready to strike, J. D. aimed at one of the misty shadows in the dank spaces between two of the bigger trees. “He does now.”
    Alan’s eyes snapped in that direction and he reflexively tightened his grip on his gun. The tall figure in the nearby shadows had been there before, but hadn’t moved enough to distinguish it from the other looming shapes. Now, J. D. knew that the man had been silently watching him from that spot the entire time.
    “You the gravedigger?” Alan asked.
    Nick stepped forward.
    “Hold it,” J. D. snapped. “What’s that you’re carrying?”
    Nick kept his arms out to the sides. “You mean my pack?”
    “Toss it.”
    “It’s just my tools.”
    “I said toss it.”
    Nick let the bundle fall to his feet. “I don’t even know you men,” he said. “Why go through so much trouble to find me?”
    “Never you mind,” J. D. said as he sighted along the barrel of his gun. “Just kick that over toward my partner. Alan, open up that pack and see what’s inside.”
    Nick pushed the bundle along the ground toward Alan.
    J. D. watched every move Nick made. He also watched the older man’s face to see if he could find any hint of weakness or fear. He found neither. Normally, folks didn’t have the strength to keep their eyes fixed upon him for more than a few seconds. This gravedigger, however, showed no sign of looking away.
    While rummaging through Nick’s things, Alan shook his head. “All I see is tools. Hold up. I just found something else.”
    “What is it?” J. D. asked.
    Alan answered that question by removing a battered pistol from within the bundle. The gun sat awkwardly in his hand, causing Alan to look it over with increasing disgust. The barrel was nearly as twisted as some of the roots under his feet and the trigger mechanism looked brittle enough to snap under the slightest bit of pressure.
    “Well?” J. D. demanded.
    “It’s a gun,” Alan replied. “Or at least, it used to be. Damn thing looks like it came from the bottom of a junk pile.”
    “Get rid of it.”
    Alan happily pitched the weapon into some bushes without another thought. Since he was busy