He stopped the gelding and pulled a telescope from his saddlebag. Peering carefully ahead from over the top of the saddle, he saw that the hill rose continually until it appeared to turn into a mesa. He could only see the leading edge of the flat-topped hill, but nothing in view threatened his approach. If Hickman failed to set a trap for him here, the advantage would turn John’s way. He would be on the high ground and could see movement for several miles ahead. He gently nudged the gelding with his boot heel.

“Let’s go, Red. If he ain’t on the hill, maybe we’ll just camp here for the night. I think you likely need the rest more’n I do.”

He gave the horse full rein and let him choose the speed for the slope. Although it was a temporary lift, the water gave the gelding new life. With only short-term respites, this had been a long tiring day on the trail. A few miles later, he pulled Red to a stop. Dismounting, he pulled the rifle and walked into the flat portion of the hill. This high country area turned out to be merely a change in elevation and not a mesa. The area appeared level and populated with scrub cedars to the extent of his vision. He could see a mountainous region several miles away. It did not appear as a majestic range when compared to the Rockies, but it was a drastic change from hill country and the prairie.

“I’ve heard a this area from travelers and scouts, Red. This is the Arbuckle Range and it holds several interestin’ items. Rock formations are found in these mountains that ain’t found anywhere else in this part of the world. A beautiful waterfall is a main topic of conversation with visitors who have been here. They say it forms a pool of clear water that’s described as the pride of the mountains. Fort Arbuckle is also in this general area, but only a small troop detachment is assigned to the post.”

Red was a good listener and John continued to give him an earful.

“Scouts give reports of a few settlements thrivin’ in the Arbuckle area. Hickman could be movin’ toward one of these communities. He could have friends here and become more difficult to capture or kill. However, with or without friends, I aim for Hickman to face some type of justice. Rope or bullet, either of these life-endin ways will be just fine to me.”

He gave a passing glance at the grass; it would hold Red’s interest till dawn. In range of his eyesight, a spot loomed for a camp. As a temporary lay-up spot to get a few hours sleep, it would fill his needs very well. He pulled the red horse to a stop, unsaddled, and carried the rigging to a large boulder. Draping the saddle and padding over the rounded rock, he smiled with satisfaction. Air would circulate under these items and dry the accumulation of sweat. Removing all his gear, he piled it at the boulder’s base. From the saddlebags, he pulled a set of hobbles and applied them to Red. Next, he shook out his bedroll and placed it on the most level spot of ground that he could find. Ten minutes later, he was sound asleep. 

Much later, a huge clap of thunder awakened him and he rose unsteadily to his feet. It appeared to be barely past dawn. He was uncertain of this because the eastern sky was partly cloudy. The rest of the sky was darkly clouded and a light rain began to fall.

Red was a well-trained and patient horse. Still, bolts of lightning and heavy rolling sounds of thunder often cause animals to break their training. John moved to where he could see the gelding and whistled sharply. Red whirled, perked his ears and came toward him as fast as his hobbles would allow. After removing the restraints, he babied the gelding for some time and scratched his itches.

“Red, let’s get back on trail and hope that Hickman finds a settlement. I’d love to treat you to a rub-down and a bait of grain like you ain’t had in a while.”

Trailing this man had never presented a problem. Since he neglected to hide signs of his passing, John doubted that Hickman knew he was being trailed. He’d lose the killer’s trail for several hours though if this rain continued. He gave sizeable thought to the rainbow like trail Hickman had made and finally decided that the man simply had a change of plans. He began talking to the horse in a low voice.

“Red, I bet he panicked after shootin’ Shorty. He probably meant to go to Fort Smith and lay up until nobody wuz lookin’ for him anymore. It could be that as he rode, the thoughts of that judge at the fort spooked him into changin’ his mind. He likely bent his trail the way he did to stay out a sight until he reached the settlements. And then too, he could be layin’ a trail to make it seem he’s comin’ from Fort Smith. He could deny bein’ near the Washita and have a two-day trail to prove it.”

Buy this book!

Copyright © 2002-2007 Gate Way Publishers. All Rights Reserved.

Website designed and hosted by SRS Internet Publishing.