The Savage Gun Read Free Page B

Luke.”
    Luke’s eyes glittered. He was a small, wiry man with close-set porcine eyes and a shock of unruly straw hair. Lean as a whip, he was lightning fast with a six-gun and seemed to enjoy killing human beings. By contrast, Pete Rutter had close-cropped hair with gray streaks at the temples and was a burly, thick-necked man with just the trace of a German accent tingeing his Mississippi drawl. He had murdered a family in Oxford, stole their wagon and poke, sold the wagon in Jackson, and gone to Texas where he continued his life of crime.
    They had all met Ollie in Auroria when Hobart was waylaying miners from Cherry Creek and stealing their pokes.
    The eight men had seen a bigger opportunity in Cripple Creek when the main street started sprouting gambling halls, saloons, dry goods stores, and the like, and the creek crawled with prospectors. But Hobart had seen a greater opportunity with Dan Savage as a single target. As he told the others, “We can roll drunks until we’re all gray-haired, toothless, old coots, or we can get enough gold in one swoop so’s we can light a shuck for California and leave these cold, freezing-ass winters behind.”
    Hobart’s plan appealed to all of them, and once they had learned how much gold Savage was taking out of the creek, their greed took hold and they followed Hobart like a pack of pups chasing after a pork chop.
    The two men took turns checking the camp with the binoculars. As they waited, the fog slowly began to thin and dissipate. The sun rose high in the sky and they even saw an eagle flying lazy circles far up the mountain, sailing on invisible currents of air like some majestic feathered lord of the skies.
    â€œWhat do you think, Pete?” Luke asked, after another half hour had passed by.
    â€œLet’s give it the better part of an hour. I can see most everybody now, but the tents are still fogged in. I didn’t see the little gal or the woman yet. Did you?”
    Luke shook his head.
    â€œThat little girl sleeps late.”
    â€œYeah, but her mother ought to be hauling a pail down to the creek to dip water out so’s they can wash their pretty faces.”
    â€œWell, I’ll keep lookin’. I don’t see that them two are going to make much difference.”
    â€œThey will to Ollie, Luke.”
    â€œYeah. They will.”
    Forty-five minutes later, the fog had lifted and they could see the tents, the prospectors lining the bank, some at the water’s edge swirling gravel in their pans. Two men were working a dry rocker, which made a lot of noise, and four others were working two sluice boxes, shoveling in gravel and washing it down the chute, then putting the gravel in pans and swishing water until the yellow gold gleamed at the edge of dolomite.
    â€œLet’s go, Luke,” Pete said. “It’s time.”
    â€œYep.”>
    The two slid backward off the rock. Pete slung the binoculars around his neck and led the way back to their horses. The sounds of the mining camp began to subside as they left the rock pile behind. The horses whickered. Luke smacked his horse across the nose to shut it up. The horse bared its teeth and tried to bite him, but Luke thumped him on the lips and the horse backed down, laying its ears flat.
    â€œThat horse is going to take a chunk out of you one of these days, Luke.”
    â€œIf he does, he’ll be one sorry horse, I tell you.”
    Pete mounted up.
    Together the two made it back to the outlaw camp where Ollie and the others were waiting.
    â€œClear?” Ollie asked.
    â€œClear as a bell,” Pete said. “Them boys is working their asses off.”
    â€œLet’s saddle up, then, and take it slow,” Ollie said. “Check your weapons. We don’t want no misfires.”
    They all checked their pistols and rifles. There was the sound of snapping and clicking as they worked the actions, reloaded ejected cartridges, spun cylinders on their