Timpanogos Read Online Free Page B

slope, and half
his men followed his example.   The
rest stayed up on the slope, looking down on the Liahona , guns ready.   The dozen cavalrymen stopped below the steam-truck’s ladder and the
Corporal looked up at the passengers and crew.
    “Everyone is armed in this godforsaken country.   But truthfully, sir,” he said, “I care
neither for you nor about you, so long as you stay where you are and do not
interfere with the execution of my appointed tasks.   I am looking for a Mr. William Hickman, who may go by the
name Bill.   He has been described
to me in such terms that, homely though I find you to be, you are not nearly
ugly enough to be the man I seek.”
    “I’m not Bill Hickman,” Poe agreed.   He was grateful for his smoked glasses,
which let him survey the scene a little more than was obvious.   The men who had ridden down to the
hotel could be surprised and taken, he thought.   The men still on the bluff, on the other hand, had a
commanding vantage point.   There
would be no sneaking up on them, unless someone managed to creep around the Liahona itself.
    He wondered where his allies were.
    Hissssss!
    An engine started with a loud squealing sound, somewhere
inside or just on the other side of the hotel.   Poe would never have heard it, except the house had been
reduced to a tiny, shattered shadow of its former self.
    “We came here looking for Hickman ourselves,” Roxie added.
    Gears whined, and a steam-truck suddenly spun into view
around the ruined hulk of the Hot Springs Hotel & Brewery.   It was a medium-sized cargo vehicle,
and it turned away as it emerged, rolling down the yard.   Men in black coats with rifles, wet and
bedraggled and not very cheerful, hung off the back.
    “That might be him,” Poe suggested.   He was perfectly happy for the
Virginian to capture or even kill Hickman.   He wanted to rescue Brigham Young—he wanted to help
Roxie—and that meant getting out from under the heel of these soldiers.
    Pffffffft-ankkkh!
    The sound was slightly muffled.   He wondered what it could be.   Maybe some part of the water tank was still grinding away at
its usual task, or finally breaking down.
    “This way, gentlemen,” the Corporal ordered his complement
of a dozen, and they trotted down the slope.   The others remained behind, holding their high ground
advantage.
    Pffffffft-ankkkh!
    “What’s that sound, Captain?” Poe asked.   “Please reassure me that the Liahona is not on the verge of exploding.”
    “No, boyo, she’s solid,” the Welshman ground his teeth.   “But I’m pretty close to exploding
myself, if I can’t get off her back and find out what happened to the child.”
    He grabbed the top of the ladder.
    Bang!
    A single bullet ricocheted off the Liahona’s deck in a trail of sparks.   Poe looked up to the cavalrymen on the bluff.   One of them held a smoking carbine and
smiled down calmly at the people stranded on the steam-truck.   It was a Sharps Model 1853, Poe thought
idly.   A big gun, and one that
would leave a big hole in a man.
    Brrrrrr-rap-ap-ap-ap-ap-ap!
    A racket that sounded a little like thunder, a little like a
belching giant and a lot like Jedediah Coltrane’s machine-gun erupted behind
the hotel.   Poe jerked his head
around to find the source of the sound and saw a Mexican Strider lurch into
view.   It had crept up slowly out
of the trees and been hiding behind the hotel.   Its guns now tore up the dry earth and grass around the
cavalrymen in a surprise flank attack.   The twelve Virginians broke formation, scattering out of the yard.
    Bang!   Bang!
    The cavalrymen at the top of the hill fired, and broke into
a ragged charge down the bluff, rushing to the aid of their Corporal and
comrades.
    Pffffffft-ankkkh!
    Over Poe’s right shoulder, catching him completely by
surprise, appeared the second Strider.   It rose straight up, standing out of what must have been a carefully
maintained crouch , in which it had crept
up alongside