“He comes close enough-just give ’im the idea you’re gonna.”įor the next few moments Bass was able to watch the look of grim determination on the warrior’s face as the Blackfoot inched his animal closer and closer to the white man’s horse. “He’ll keep it up till he gets one of us,” Hatcher growled, “or he drops us both!” Both trappers barely held on as the animal dodged through the sagebrush: Hatcher locked on to the saddle, Titus locked on to him.īass cried, “Son of a bitch’s coming back for another go!” Both Hatcher and Bass ducked out of the way as the knife blade hissed past their heads-that sudden shift of weight causing the horse below them to stumble and sidestep at full stride. With a sudden swerving lurch, the warrior brought his pony sharply to the left as he swung the long club forward. “It’s all I can do to keep us on top of this damned horse!” Opening his eyes, he struggled to focus: discovering the warrior racing just behind them, just over his right shoulder.īass watched the Blackfoot switch the reins into his free hand, beginning to swing his left arm back. And out of the shrill ringing in his ears, Bass heard the other pony. It was like a nausea that threatened to surge up his gullet, a blackness doing its best to put an end to the torment in his side. “I ain’t stoppin’ for nothing! Not when I got a head of steam behind me!”
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