Heaven Is a Long Way Off Read Online Free

once.
    Tom Virgin was old, Sam guessed probably in his forties, but he was tough and strong. Sam liked him.
    â€œHannibal, Virgin, ride the river with the horses.”
    â€œCaptain, I’m sticking with Paladin.”
    Smith looked at Sam and knew his segundo wouldn’t be denied. “All right, three of you. Sam, hang on to that horse.”
    â€œLet’s go,” said Hannibal. All thirty-some-odd mounts, including Paladin and Ellie, were rope-corralled a hundred paces downstream.
    â€œHold on,” said Diah. He was looking across the river. “You feel sure of hitting that sand bar?”
    â€œIt’ll work,” said Sam.
    The trappers would set out in the rafts and pole across. The current would bear them downstream. Remembering last year, Jedediah and Sam figured they would float about as much down the river to the bar as across it. They allowed a good margin for error.
    Now the first raft was loaded—eight trappers plus the captain and half their gear.
    Sam, Hannibal, and Virgin started downstream to run the horses into the river. Coy tagged along.
    â€œWait!” said Sam. He ran to the raft that was still on the bank and lashed the rifle his father had left him, The Celt, to the bundle of rifles there. Most of the men had wrapped their rifles in canvas and tied them to this second raft. This rifle was important to Sam. It was the only memento he had of his father, Lew Morgan.
    â€œMe too,” Hannibal and Virgin said together. A man swimming the Colorado didn’t want something as heavy as a rifle in his hands. Hannibal roped both rifles in.
    Off the three hurried down to the river.
    â€œPush off!” cried Jedediah.
    Coy barked once in the direction of the raft and scooted after Sam and Hannibal.
    The trappers on the raft shoved hard against the bank with their long poles, and the raft surged into the river. The current grabbed them hard. The raft spun in a full circle, making some of the men fall down. Everyone laughed. A big wave lifted the raft, and it dropped down the back side with a belly-sucking lurch. Men made whoopsy noises.
    At that moment all the Mojave men yelled fiercely and attacked the ten men left on the bank.
    The first blows whisked through the air. Two men got pin-cushioned, others were wounded here and there.
    Spears were hurled. Polly Labross went down with a shaft through his chest, blood gouting from his mouth onto his gray beard.
    Warriors rushed in and struck with spears and knives.
    Silas Gobel was slashed by at least two knives but roared, picked a man up, and threw him at the other treacherous warriors.
    Mojaves ran into nearby brush and came out brandishing war clubs.
    Several trappers got off shots with their pistols—the rifles were lashed to the beached raft—but the Mojaves swarmed on them.
    Jedediah and eight other men watched in horror from the river. It was like seeing ants rush onto a dying mouse.
    The current yanked them relentlessly downstream. “Pole, damn it!” yelled Jedediah. He set an example.
    The trappers had been gaping at the attack. Now they stuck their poles deep into the water, found the bottom, and shoved.
    Two men pushed upstream.
    â€œWe can’t go against the current,” shouted Jedediah. “Pole for the other side!”
    They did, hard.
    From a hundred paces downstream Sam, Hannibal, and Virgin, armed with only their pistols and butcher knives, sprinted back to their comrades. Coy ran ahead of them, growling and yowling. Sam saw Bos’n Brown fall, and two Mojaves pounced on him. Robiseau staggered out of the melee, his back sprouting arrows.
    Before they were halfway back, a score of armed Mojaves ran toward Sam, Hannibal, and Virgin.
    Coy turned and dashed the other way.
    Sam fired, and a man dropped.
    Hannibal fired.
    Suddenly everything was chaos.
    A capricious wind whipped up a dust devil. Sand and smoke swirled around the trappers.
    Warriors ran into the dark pall, screaming and