Gold Envy

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Jesus slapped his mount and hastened away at a gallop. Ropero waited, maybe five seconds, and then drove his horse forward. At full speed, they hit the narrow canyon, whose towering walls nearly blotted out the sun. They were halfway through when a rifle shot rang out.

Ropero's horse stumbled and went down. Throwing himself clear, he rolled and came up with the big Colt in his hand. He saw Jesus stop and turn back as another shot ricocheted off the canyon wall. "

"Ride, Jesus, ride!"

A rifle bullet kicked up sand and rock at the feet of Jesus’ horse. It panicked and reared, but Jesus got it under control, turned, and raced through the canyon toward the border.

As Ropero watched, Jesus vanished. A bullet ripped through his left shoulder, spinning him around. He dove into the underbrush. Blood was seeping from the wound. He scrambled to his knees as a hail of bullets hit the trees and rocks where he had been standing. Pushing to his feet, he was racing for cover when a greasy gunman stepped from behind a tree.

"Far enough, señor!"

Like a well-oiled machine, the Colt leveled in Ropero's hand and his bullet tore open the gunman's throat; blood spurted from a gaping wound. The rifle dropped from his fingers and the light of life died in his eyes as he pitched forward.

Ropero sprinted for the other side of the trail as he heard the feet of runners and horses crashing through the bushes and undergrowth. As he dove behind a rock, a bullet entered his leg and he rolled beyond his intended cover.

Two gunmen stepped into the clearing. One smiled as he raised his rifle. Ropero made the grin permanent as he shot him between the eyes, and then pumped two shots into his friend. Ropero looked at his b****y thigh and started crawling toward higher cover when he saw a man on horseback about to break through the bushes.

The Colt whipped into firing position, but before he could squeeze the shot off, a man materialized behind him, swinging his rifle like a club. It caught Ropero on the side of his head. His sight was shattered into a million fragments.

He managed to make out the dim shape of a rider who had dismounted and was coming toward him. He tried to raise his g*n hand, but the dim shape kicked the g*n away.

Before he sank into a deep black hole, Ropero realized that this man was wearing silver-buckled leggings of soft leather with fancy silver spurs. The man was busy grinding one of those spurs into Ropero's empty g*n hand, causing his blood to make wild designs as it ran off his fingertips.