Read King of the Gun Trail: A Frontier G-Man Novel Page 5
Gar Corbin was a tall man. His broad frame was imposing, although his midsection had begun running to fat. His broad face and drooping jowls belied his age and made him look older than his mid forties. From high on the canyon rim, he squinted across the large boulder where he had laid his rifle. Here he waited. Waited for the winding trail below to become filled with men.
He turned toward the huge man next him. "Tell the others to get ready. There’s a dust cloud rising down the trail. They should be here soon."Corbin grinned beneath his ragged black mustache stained with tobacco juice.
"Right boss." Moose Malloy arose to a half crouch and move toward the other men hidden in the rocks. What Moose lacked in brains, he made up for with brute strength. Corbin liked his dog like obedience, but and at the same time, he held him in contempt for his stupidity. Still Moose was very useful. That was all Corbin cared about anyways. Obedience and usefulness.
Such was not the case of Shep Palmer and Bart Sprague. He glanced at their positions. Each held a rifle ready. Two six guns holstered low at their sides. They were consummate professionals. Lean and mean, cold and deadly. Fast guns with no emotions. No fear, no conscience. Just efficient killing machines. Yes, they were useful but also dangerous. Gar Corbin would never turn his back on these men. He would never admit to himself that he feared them, but he did. He should.
Malloy went from man to man, twelve in all, each ready to pour lead onto the trail below.
Corbin looked back to the trail. He could see them entering the canyon. This was going to be good, he smiled to himself. Here they come. This is going to be good.
Captain Rafe McLeod led his detail of twelve soldiers along the twisted trail as it wound through the canyon. The late afternoon sun was quickly diminishing behind the high western wall of the canyon. A wisp of cool air seemed to filter through as the encroaching shadows grew longer..
The Captain, always alert, darted green eyes back and forth, surveying the trail ahead, occasionally checking their back trail. The chink of trappings and the steady clop of horses' hooves were all that broke the stillness of the day. There was no sign of trouble anywhere, not even a hint. Still, Captain Mcleod sat uneasy on his mount, a chill crawling up his spine. Twenty years in the Army gave him a sense or premonition. His eyes squinted as he glanced at the setting sun. It was blinding, blotting out the rim of the canyon. It would be a good place for an ambush. If anyone were on the rim, they couldn’t be seen.
Then it happened. All fears were realized as a barrage of gunfire filled the canyon with a deafening roar. Horses reared and fell. Troopers were torn from their saddles. And as the thunder subsided to an occasional blast, only the lonely echoes of the canyon remained as a solemn homage to the bullet riddled bodies of dead soldiers on the canyon floor.