| THE HUNTER HUNTED Skye Fargo had stalked quarry many
times--but this time he was the one being stalked by an expert. He had never run
into a slayer as skilled as Vic Dunn. Now he wondered if even his swiftness and
savvy could get him out of Dunn's field of fire.
Finally, though, he figured he could breathe easy a spell. He had made
it to a ledge of a butte that was as safe as a church. He yanked his Sharps out of
its saddle holster and squatted on the rim, waiting for Dunn to come into sight.
The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back, listening to the faint
report of a heavy-caliber rifle.
He lay stunned. He could hardly believe he had just been shot.
Then the reaction him him. His gut churned and he felt like he would retch.
He stood up on wobbly legs and tried to get off an answering shot with his Sharps.
But something happened that had never happened before. The recoil of
the big .52 lifted him clear off his feet and sent the Trailsman tumbling down into the
gully.... |
TRICKED AND TRAPPED From his hiding place, Fargo counted
the Indians riding away. Five of them. Two were missing. Fargo's stomach
knotted. He whirled and reached for his Colt--too late.
A body rammed into him. He went tumbling, a rock spearing intense pain
through his ribs. He clawed for the Colt, but it was snatched from his grasp.
A foot drove into his stomach.
Fargo kicked a leg that loomed in his vision. The Nez Perce warrior
fell on top of him, and he slammed a fist into the man's chin. The warrior sagged.
Shoving clear, Fargo surged upright and drew back his leg to finish the job.
"No, white dog! Or woman die!"
Turning, Fargo saw the other warrior holding a rifle to Constance Tillman's
temple. Skye Fargo slowly held his arms out to show he would no longer resist.
It made no difference to the man on the ground, who sprang up with the colt
in his hand.
Fargo heard the click of the Colt being cocked--and the Trailsman saw the
end of the trail.... |
