The Five Dollar Mail Book 3: The Road Home

81: Snare

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Hezekiah Stone made of found images by me.  All graphics by me.

Book 1: The Green, Book 2: Lynch's Boys, Book 3: The Road Home, and the Riders & Kickers Anthology are available on Amazon under the name Regina Shelley. So if you hate waiting for chapter posts and/or want a more polished read, the finished product is available now.

They knew we were coming. That's the only way to explain this beating Collin's men are taking.

Hezekiah crouched behind a fallen cottonwood and steadied the long barrel of his rifle against a broken branch. He squinted, making sure he had a clear shot before tightening his finger on the trigger. The recoil of the weapon jerked satisfyingly against his shoulder as the gunshot shattered the air. The Sioux brave he was aiming at fell dead in a heap, far enough away so as not to reveal his hiding place He figured the distance and the chaos would mask his location well enough.

This is some fine shit. He scowled, hauling the rifle into his lap and grabbing his powder horn. This ain't how this was supposed to go. He re-loaded the rifle and dropped the rod into the barrel,deftly tamping the powder down. I'm gonna have to get my ass out of here if things don't turn for us. "Damn," he muttered, spitting into the dirt and raising the rifle again.

He dispassionately surveyed the mayhem of the village, watching Collin's unprepared soldiers receive a very much unexpected thrashing. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the other side of the common area that ran down the middle of this part of the encampment.

The loud-mouthed squaw man he'd had words with in His Horse's tent was on the ground in front of one of the lodges, being hauled to his feet by one of the Sioux bucks.

There's that yellow haired son of a bitch...I wonder if he had anything to do with... He lazily swung the rifle around, his finger tightening on the trigger. Holy shit... He froze, staring. No. There's my answer right there.

Across the clearing was a slender figure in the ill-fitting blue coat of a scout, struggling to pull a pistol from the hand of a fallen soldier. Long, flaming red curls spilled in tousled disarray from beneath the askew blue cap.

That red-haired whore from Bridger. She was spying on that conversation me and Collins had. She came out here and warned them.

More soldiers surged toward the lodge, and Hezekiah watched as the white man and the brave met them head on, dropping one of the soldiers before they even got near. A swarthy, heavily-whiskered bear of a man near them turned and threw a beefy arm around the woman, dragging her away from the fight while firing a pistol with his free hand.

Hezekiah ducked down, pulling the barrel of the rifle out of sight. That fat, hairy bastard is from the fort, too. What the hell's going on here? He slowed his breathing, trying to remain motionless. They're going to run right into me...

The man's dark eyes were fierce as he held the woman protectively close to his chest, alert and attentive. Hezekiah held his breath as his fingers crept around the grip of his pistol. The redhead was breathing hard, her face pale with panic as she held onto her companion's arm.

"Mr. Devereaux!" she rasped, on the verge of tears. "What about Jesse? What do we.."

"Shhh, Little Firebrand," the man hushed her, his voice a growling rumble. "I want you to hide here so you don't get shot."

"Hide here?" She snapped out of her terror and turned to face him. "No! I can at least shoot! I'm certainly not going to sit here while..."

The man turned, jerking the woman behind him and hauling his pistol up at Hezekiah's hiding place. Hezekiah fired, leaping from behind the deadfall and reaching for the woman as her companion toppled into the dirt in a spray of blood. She was screaming, her instantly bloodied hands frantically grabbing at the fallen man. Hezekiah grabbed a handful of her red hair and jerked her to her feet, winding her hair around his fist and hooking an arm around her waist.

"Like I said," he grunted as he dragged her away from the bleeding man on the ground. She was howling into his ear, clawing at him and fighting him with a ferocity he didn't expect. He yanked her back away from him and backhanded her across the face hard enough to shut her up and knock her off her feet. "I do love me a red haired whore. Good thing you came along when you did, girl. The army pays pretty well to get white captives back." He tightened his grip in her hair, jerking her upright and forcing her to stagger along in front of him. "Bet you're glad as hell to be rescued, eh?"

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