Grey Raiders of Spanish Peaks

1. Auflage 2018
ISBN: 978-1-5183-0442-2
Verlag: Charles River Editors
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection

E-Book, Englisch, 422 Seiten

Zane Grey was an American author best known for writing Western fiction.  With books such as Riders of the Purple Sage and Betty Zane, Grey is perhaps the most famous writer of Westerns with many of his books being adapted into movies and TV shows.  This edition of Grey's Raiders of Spanish Peaks includes a table of contents.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Grey, Zane

Leseproben

CHAPTER II
.................. LATE IN THE AFTERNOON OF the second day Laramie and Lonesome rode into Dodge, the wide-open cattle town of the frontier. They had gotten only far enough down the wide main street to see through the clouds of dust the vehicles, horses, and throng of men that showed Dodge was having one of its big days—the arrival of trail drivers with their herds from Texas. A voice called: “Lonesome! Lonesome Mulhall!” The owner of that name stiffened in his saddle while he reined his horse. “Laramie, did you hear some one call my name?” queried Lonesome, incredulously. “I shore did,” replied Laramie, halting beside Lonesome to gaze up and down and across the street. “Gosh! I reckoned I had the willies. . . . Somebody knows me, Laramie, sure as I’m the onluckiest——” “Lonesome! For Gawd’s sake—is it you?” called the voice, husky of accent. Laramie located whence it came. “Come, Lonesome, an’ don’t make a yell. . . . Looks like a jail to me. Shore wasn’t heah on my last visit to Dodge. The town’s growin’.” On the nearer side of the street a solid-looking squat structure had a small window with iron bars across it. Between those bars peered out a pale face from which piercing black eyes fastened upon Lonesome. It required no more than that to acquaint Laramie with the likelihood of their having found the much-talked-of Tracks Williams, Lonesome’s one-time partner. They rode up to the window, which was about on a level with their heads as they sat mounted. Lonesome had not let out the yelp Laramie had anticipated, a fact that attested to deeper emotion than Laramie had given him credit for. But his face had paled, and his chin wabbled. “Don’t you know me, pard?” came from the window. “You, Tracks! . . . Alive? . . . Aw, I’m thankin’ the good Lord! I reckoned you was dead.” “I’m damn near dead and I will be soon if you don’t get me out of here,” replied the other, bitterly. Laramie saw a handsome thin white face, lighted by eyes black as night and sharp as daggers. Black locks hung dishevelled over a fine brow and a thin downy beard bespoke youthful years. “You locked in?” queried Lonesome, swiftly. “Yes, with a lot of lousy greasers and drunken cow-punchers.” “It’s a jail, huh?” “Do you think it’s a ballroom? . . . Who’s your riding pardner?” “He hails from the Handle, Tracks,” answered Lonesome, as he turned to his friend. “Laramie, stick your hand in there an’ shake with my old pard, Tracks Williams.” Laramie did as bidden. “Hod do. I cain’t say I’m glad to meet yu in heah, but I would be if yu was out.” “Are you Mulhall’s friend?” came the eager query. Laramie was about to admit this when Lonesome burst out, vehemently: “Tracks, he saved my neck. I was about to be swung up. We’re ridin’ away from Kansas.” “Don’t ride away without me,” implored Williams. “Huh! Did you have any idee we would?” grunted Lonesome, fiercely. “Not if we have to wipe this here Dodge off the map.” “Lonesome, don’t waste time. Let me talk,” replied Laramie, who could see through the window that other inmates were listening. “What’re yu in for?” “Not a damn thing,” declared Williams, with passion. “Wasn’t in any shooting fray, nor drunk, nor anything. It’s an outrage. Sheriff and his deputies made a raid to lock up a lot of newcomers. And I happened to be one.” “Wal, we’ll get yu out one way or another,” declared Laramie. “Come back after dark with a pick or crowbar. You can dig a hole through this wall in ten minutes.” “What’d be the best time?” “Any time after night. The guard leaves us here and goes into the saloon. We’d broke out long ago if we had anything.” “Look for us about middle of supper time,” whispered Laramie, his sharp ears and eyes vigilant. A moment later a heavily armed man appeared around the corner. “What you doin’ at thet winder?” he demanded. “Howdy, officer. We was ridin’ by an’ some one begged for a cigarette. I was about to pass some makin’s in,” replied Laramie, his hand on his breast pocket, where the little bag of tobacco lay. “So long’s you let me see you do it,” returned the guard. Whereupon Laramie passed his tobacco-pouch in with the words: “There yu are, cow-puncher. Hope yu get out soon. Good luck an’ so long.” He and Lonesome rode on up the street, and when they had reached a safe distance Lonesome breathed low: “Say, Laramie, but you are a quick-witted cuss. I was about to throw a gun on thet guard.” “Think twice before yu do anythin’, now yu’re with me,” replied Laramie, sharply. “Let’s get our haids together. We’ll need another hawse, saddle, bridle, an’ such. Some grub an’ water, for we’ll have to rustle out of heah pronto. Also somethin’ to break a hole in thet wall.” Before they reached the busy section of Dodge, inquiry led them up a side street to a stable and corral maintained for incoming riders. Bargaining for an extra horse with equipment took but a few moments. While Laramie paid for this and feed for the horses, Lonesome went sauntering around. Upon his return Laramie gathered from his bright wink that he had hit upon something interesting or useful. “Leave the hawses heah in the corral. We’ll be rustlin’ out before sunup,” said Laramie. “Ain’t youse a-goin’ to paint the town?” queried the stableman, with a grin. “Shore. But thet takes us only one night. . . . Come on, pard, let’s rustle some fodder for ourselves.” They made for the main street, boots scraping and spurs jangling, after the manner of riders unused to walking. “Wal, do we hunt up a hardware store?” drawled Laramie. “Nix. I spotted tools under thet open shed. We’ll approperate a couple of them,” replied Lonesome, grinning. “Lonesome, this heah approperatin’ habit of yorn worries me,” declared Laramie, humorously. “It ain’t no habit. It’s a disease.” “Wal, whatever it is yu must curb it. Thet cowman at the camp last night—he was shore decent. An’ right under his nose yu stole his tobacco-pouch.” “Aw, not stole.” “Dog-gone-yu. Thet’s what he’d say. If we ever fall into respectable company yu’ll disgrace us.” “No fear then. . . . Gosh! you can’t see the town for the dust. Regular roarin’ place, this Dodge. No wonder Tracks got run in.” “Let’s buy a canvas bag to pack grub in, an’ a couple of water-bottles,” suggested Laramie. They sallied into a merchandise store, where they made more purchases than Laramie had bargained for. Manifestly being in town went to Lonesome’s head. It was dusk when they arrived back at the corral with their supplies. The stableman evidently had locked up his stable for the night. While Laramie filled the canvas water-bottles at the watering-trough, Lonesome went to secure some tools. He came jingling back almost immediately. “Got a pick an’ a crowbar,” he announced, highly elated. “We can bust thet jail wide open in a jiffy.” “Hide ’em along the corral fence,” replied Laramie. “I shore hope this heah job doesn’t land us in jail.” “Now I’ve found Tracks, I’d rather be with him, in jail or out.” “Wal, I can appreciate thet,” rejoined Laramie, dryly. “But if it’s all the same to yu we’ll stay out.” They returned to the main street and approached the center of the great stock town. Lights shone yellow through the dust. Wagons and riders were on the move. Lonesome wanted to walk on forever, but Laramie dragged him into a restaurant. Only a few customers were there, which was fortunate for the two riders, as by the time their meal was served to them the place had filled up with a noisy throng of teamsters, cow-punchers, trail drivers and ranch hands, with a sprinkling of hard-looking individuals whose calling Laramie had his doubts about. Their conversation was loud, punctuated by guffaws, and the content was movement and sale of cattle, and the excitement of Dodge. Laramie had to drag...