Ralph Compton Sixguns and Double Eagles Read Online Free Page A

hombre,” said El Lobo.
    â€œHe was that and more,” McQueen said. “He fought for his friends, and damn the odds. Once, Bess and me had been ambushed by horse thieves and left for dead. Nathan found us, got us to a doctor, and then took the trail of the four thieves. He tracked them all the way to Arkansas and returned with our stolen horses.”
    McQueen talked until the steamboat’s bell called them to supper.
    â€œI’d better go wake Vivian,” said McQueen. “I’ll see you in the dining hall.”
    Wes led Empty to the kitchen, where he had made provisions for the dog to be fed. El Lobo had taken a table, and when Empty had eaten, he and Wes joined the Indian. There was still no sign of Barnabas McQueen.
    â€œWonder where McQueen is?” Wes speculated.
    â€œHis woman no like you,” said El Lobo.
    â€œI know,” Wes said. “I suspect there was more between her and my father than she wants me to know, and seeing me brought back times she’d just as soon forget. McQueen didn’t like the way she looked at me.”
    â€œHe be old, she be young,” said El Lobo. “Malo.”
    â€œShe’ll likely avoid us from here to New Orleans,” Wes said. “After that, we won’t be seeing them again, even if we wanted to. If Silver’s right, they could be in great danger from men stalking us.”
    The supper hour passed without any sign of the McQueens, and the dining hall began to empty. El Lobo caught Wes’s eye and the Indian nodded almost imperceptively. Clumsily Wes dropped a spoon, and when he bent to retrieve it he caught a brief glimpse of the two men who sat at a nearby table.
    â€œThey watch us,” El Lobo said softly.
    â€œI think you’re right,” said Wes. “They’re tryin’ almighty hard not to seem all that interested in us. Let’s take a walk on deck, out near the stern. If they’re after us, we’ll give them a chance to make their play.”
    Wes and El Lobo were near the huge paddle wheel, well beyond the last of the hanging bracket lamps, when the two strangers emerged from the dining hall. They paused by the ship’s rail for a moment and then began a slow walk along the deck, toward the stern. Wes and El Lobo moved forward until they were within the shadow of the hurricane deck, and there they waited, half a dozen feet apart. The two gunmen halted thirty feet away, and one of them spoke.
    â€œGot a match?”
    As they drew their guns, Wes and El Lobo went belly-down on the deck, their Colts roaring. Lead sang over their heads, and then but for the sound of dropped weapons and two bodies collapsing, there was silence.
    â€œOver the side with them,” said Wes. “We may have only a few seconds.”
    Each of them seized one of the dead men, and dragging them well away from the big paddle wheel, heaved them over the side into the muddy water of the Mississippi. Quickly they threw the weapons in after them and hurried along the deck toward the entrance to the dining hall and the narrow corridor that led to their cabins. But they didn’t quite make it. A curious cook met them.
    â€œI though I heard shooting,” he said.
    â€œSo did we,” said Wes. “It must have been onshore. We decided to go inside. Might be dangerous out here.”
    â€œSo it might,” the man said, seemingly satisfied.
    Quickly Wes and El Lobo made their way toward their cabin. Before the shooting had begun, Empty had made himself scarce. Now he was at their heels. Once in their cabin, El Lobo lighted a lamp while Wes locked and bolted the door.
    â€œNow,” said Wes, “we’d better clean and reload our weapons. There’s no chance of us reaching New Orleans without that pair of varmints being missed.”
    â€œNobody see us,” El Lobo said, “and there be no law.”
    â€œOn any vessel—steamboat or oceangoing ship—the captain is the