Death Rides Alone Read Online Free Page A

pinned down, Luke banged Tyler’s head on the ground several times. The young man stopped fighting, although he didn’t pass out. His eyes were glassy and unfocused as they stared up at Luke.
    Feeling was starting to come back into Luke’s left arm. He used that hand to take hold of the shovel and toss it away, out of Tyler’s reach. Then he pushed himself to his feet and stood over the young man. Both of Luke’s holsters were empty, as was the sheath where his knife rode.
    A pitchfork leaned nearby against the gate of one of the stalls, though, so Luke reached over and took hold of it. He held the fork’s sharp tines poised over Tyler’s chest and said, “Stop fighting, or I’ll remind myself that the bounty on your head is payable dead or alive.”
    Tyler was still mostly out of it, but he was able to lift a hand and gasp, “No . . . no more! Don’t kill me!”
    Luke stepped back but kept the pitchfork ready. He glanced around, saw that Tyler’s Colt had wound up several yards away during the fight. The fugitive was unarmed, unless he had a hideout gun somewhere on him.
    A man appeared in the stable’s open doors. For the second time today, Luke had a shotgun pointed at him, but this Greener was in the hands of a bulky, middle-aged man with a star pinned to his vest under the open rain slicker he wore.
    â€œWhat the hell!” the lawman said. “Throw that pitchfork down, mister, or I’ll blast you.”
    â€œTake it easy, Marshal,” Luke said. He tossed the pitchfork aside. “I’m not the man you want.” He nodded toward Tyler. “This one is. He’s a killer, wanted up in Montana.”
    â€œHow in blazes do I know that?” the marshal asked as he came farther into the barn. His face was broad and florid, with the bulbous nose of a drinker. He went on, “I come in here and find ol’ Fred tied up and one stranger about to skewer another stranger with a pitchfork. Maybe I oughta just shoot the both of you.”
    â€œThat might simplify your life, but it would be the wrong thing to do. If you’ll allow me to reach into my saddlebags, I can show you the wanted poster on this man. Not only that, if you’ll remove Mr. Crandall’s gag, I’m sure he’ll be glad to tell you that we were the ones who were attacked.”
    â€œWe’ll just see about both of those things. You stand right there where you are.”
    The marshal moved over to the stool where Crandall was perched with his hands tied behind his back and a dirty rag stuffed into his mouth. The lawman pulled the gag out, and Crandall started spitting. He kept that up for several seconds, then glared toward Tyler.
    â€œThat fella is tellin’ you the truth, Marshal,” he said. “The varmint on the ground is the one what caused the trouble. He must’a snuck in the back while me and that hombre in black were talkin’, then he jumped out and walloped him on the head with a shovel.”
    The marshal frowned and didn’t look convinced. He said, “I need some names here.”
    â€œMy name is Luke Jensen,” Luke introduced himself. He pointed at the fugitive. “That’s Judd Tyler. He’s wanted in White Fork, Montana, for murdering a young woman.”
    Tyler had gotten enough of his senses back to respond to that charge. He pushed himself up on an elbow and said, “That’s a damned lie!”
    â€œLike I said, Marshal, I can prove it if you’ll let me show you that wanted poster.”
    The lawman continued to frown for a moment, like maybe thinking didn’t come that easy for him, but then he jerked his head in a nod and told Luke, “Go ahead and get it. But try anything funny and I’ll blow your head off.”
    Luke’s gray hadn’t spooked during the ruckus. It had stood stolidly during the shoot-out in the street a short time earlier, too. Luke liked that about the