William Johnstone - Snake River Slaughter

Matt saw a rope tied off onto one of the supporting pillars. The rope looped through a pulley just under the peak of the roof, then the other end of the rope was tied off on one of the support pillars on the opposite loft. Matt untied the rope, and with a running start, leaped from the equipment loft and swung over to the hay loft.

“Carson! There!” Burke shouted and he and Carson fired at Matt as he swung across the opening.

Matt hit the floor on the hayloft, rolled once, then fired back. Carson fell forward, Burked tumbled backward, through the loft window, and onto the ground in front of the livery.

Matt was climbing down from the hayloft when a bullet hit the ladder rung just above his head. Looping his arms and legs over the outside of the ladder, Matt slid down quickly, even as another bullet whizzed by him. Once he was on the ground, he turned toward his assailant and fired.

Making certain that he was dead, Matt took a moment to reload. He had just finished reloading when he heard Sherman calling to him from the street.

“Jensen! Jensen! Come on out and face me like a man! Jensen! Where are you?”

Matt left by the back door of the livery, ran down the alley for about half a block, then darted between two buildings and came out onto the street. He was behind Sherman, who was standing in front of the livery.

“Burke! Carson! Walker! Where are you?”

Matt put his pistol in his holster, and walked up to within sixty feet of Sherman.

“Jensen!”

Matt said nothing.

Sherman turned then, and was startled to see Matt standing so close to him on the street. For a second he was frightened, then he saw that Matt’s gun was in his holster. Sherman actually had his pistol was in his hand, but his arm was down by his side.

“Well now,” Sherman said, with an evil grin spreading across his face. “Here we are, just you and me.

Only I have my gun in my hand, and you have yours in your holster.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Matt said.

“What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?”

“I’m going to kill you anyway.”

With a loud, angry yell, Sherman brought his pistol up.

Epilogue

The wind whispered as it came off the sails, and the sun created a million dancing diamonds on the surface of Lake Michigan. Matt and Kitty were seated on the afterdeck of the yacht, eating the meal the chef of the yacht had prepared for them. The yacht was about a mile offshore and from here, they had a great view of the city of Chicago. A passenger train was racing south along the lake shore.

“Where do you think that train is going?” Kitty asked.

“I don’t know,” Matt answered. “New Orleans, maybe?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to go to New Orleans?”

“Some day, perhaps,” Matt said. “But not today. I’m enjoying where I am right now.”

“So am I,” Kitty said. “I have had such a wonderful time in Chicago that I don’t even want to go back. I hate to say this, but I could almost be convinced to sell the ranch.”

“And do what?” Matt asked.

“The same thing you do,” Kitty said. “Just wander around.”

Matt shook his head. “No, Kitty, you don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t you say Tyrone, Prew, Crack, Jake, and the others were your family?”

Kitty was silent for a long moment. “Yes,” she finally replied. “Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Besides, you don’t want to quit now. The army not only bought all your horses, they told you they would buy as many as you could provide them.”

“Did you hear them say that it was the finest bunch of horses they had bought all year?” Kitty asked, proudly.

“Yes, I did hear that,” Matt said. “And now, without the pressure of paying off a loan, the money you got from selling your horses to the army, and the guarantee you got for future contracts, you could just enjoy your ranch and your horses.”

“Do you think you could?” Kitty asked.

“Do I think I could what?”

“Enjoy my ranch, my horses, and me?” Kitty said.

“Kitty, I—”

“No,” Kitty said, holding up her hand and interrupting Matt in midsentence. She smiled at him. “Don’t answer that, Matt. Let me keep my dream.”

“Let you keep your dream? Oh, I don’t know. I’m not so sure about that,” Matt said, smiling.

“What do you mean, you aren’t so sure?”

“Kitty, you have just proven to me that your dreams seem to have a way of coming true.”

PINNACLE BOOKS are published by

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Copyright © 2010 William W. Johnstone

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

Following the death of William W. Johnstone, the Johnstone family is working with a carefully selected writer to organize and complete Mr. Johnstone’s outlines and many unfinished manuscripts to create additional novels in all of his series like The Last Gunfighter, Mountain Man, and Eagles, among others. This novel was inspired by Mr. Johnstone’s superb storytelling.

PINNACLE BOOKS and the Pinnacle logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off. The WWJ steer head logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.

ISBN: 978-0-7860-2439-1