John Riley Bounty Hunter: The Losing Trail

De: Ronnie Ashmore

Narrado por: Virtual Voice

Duración: 1 h y 52 m

Resumen del Editor

"Ashmore creates fierce characters with confidence and authority. A fresh and welcome Western narrative." -Best-Selling Author Ralph Cotton

Lem Jenkins is a man sentenced to hang for his crimes. John Riley is the bounty hunter who brought him to justice. A jail escape in the middle of the night sends Riley back out on the trail of Jenkins. This time, the young bounty hunter may be taking on more than he can handle. Jenkins will do anything to keep away from the hangman’s noose and Riley wants to see justice done. They are both riding a losing trail.

Excerpt
The horse was tired and injured. Jenkins knew he needed to find another one soon. Luckily, he was looking down at the trading post, squatting down behind some trees on a hill.
He was surprised the horse, limping as it was, had brought him this far. It was now tied just below the hill out of site, cropping grass. He did not think it would be wise to try to go any farther.
He needed a new mount. He did not want to wait until dark to sneak into the little village and try to steal a horse from the livery. In fact, he wanted no part of the village at all.
He needed a plan, but one was not coming to mind. He knew the pursuit would follow him here, and he wanted to be miles away by the time it got here.
He stood up deciding action was better than indecision. He walked back to the horse and mounted up. There were several farms and ranches in this area, and they all had good horses. In fact, the trader whose horses he had stolen that led to this whole mess lived not far from here.
He decided to ride back to that farm and steal another mount. He had no moral ambiguity about stealing or robbing. He had never taken from anyone who did not already have more than their share. Besides, he had to live too.
He realized he would not make it anywhere on this injured horse. As he tried to ride off, the horse refused to move, standing there as if it were planted. Jenkins dismounted and swore, kicking the horse in the ribs hard. Now he would have to chance going into the village and stealing a horse.
Jenkins left the hurt horse tied to the cedar tree. The saddle belonged to his cousin, but he was not going to tote a heavy saddle into town. Grumbling, he started walking down the hill toward the town.
It was a few hours still before sundown, Jenkins hoped he would find a suitable mount for the rest of his trip. He had only been here a handful of times, but he knew that along with the livery there were other businesses. A barbershop, a saloon, a single log room they called a hotel, and a post office.
He needed none of those services, although he might be able to sneak a horse from the livery. He would try there first.
Jenkins came down the hill toward town keeping a steady pace. He headed straight for the livery which sat a few yards from the creek that gave the place its name.
The only way to get to the north side of the creek was to use the bridge that crossed over or walk across in the water. He used the bridge to cross.
He saw nobody milling about the streets. He figured it was still early for a crowd, most folks would still be working.
At the livery he went around to the back side. He listened for activity inside the barn. Hearing nothing, he slipped through the open door.
He waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. When he could see, he almost did not believe what he was looking at. In a stall there was a bay standing, chomping oats. It was saddled, just waiting.
Figuring the gods were smiling on him for once, he took a quick look outside. He still saw no one.
In less than two minutes Jenkins had mounted and was riding out of town heading west. He kept the livery in between him and town as he made his getaway.
He figured he would ride west a few miles then change direction to keep on his path to the nations. Jenkins was feeling good. The bay had plenty of bottom and would be a good mount for him.