Deserts -- Fiction; Latter Day Saints -- Fiction; Utah -- Fiction; Western stories
“You crooked cur! But you're only my half-brother, after all. I always
knew you'd come to something bad, but I never thought you'd disgrace the
Naabs and break your father's heart. Now then, what do you want here? Be
quick. This's our range and you and your boss can't ride here. You can't
even water your horses. Out with it!”
At this, Hare, who had been so absorbed as to forget himself, suddenly
felt a cold tightening of the skin of his face, and a hard swell of his
breast. The dance of Snap's eyes, the downward flit of his hand seemed
instantaneous with a red flash and loud report. Instinctively Hare
dodged, but the light impact of something like a puff of air gave place
to a tearing hot agony. Then he slipped down, back to the stone, with a
bloody hand fumbling at his breast.
Dave leaped with tigerish agility, and knocking up the levelled Colt,
held Snap as in a vise. George Naab gave Holderness's horse a sharp kick
which made the mettlesome beast jump so suddenly that his rider was
nearly unseated. Zeke ran to Hare and laid him back against the stone.
“Cool down, there!” ordered Zeke. “He's done for.”
“My God--my God!” cried Dave, in a broken voice. “Not--not dead?”
“Shot through the heart!”
Dave Naab flung Snap backward, almost off his horse. “D--n you! run, or
I'll kill you. And you, Holderness! Remember! If we ever meet again--you
draw!” He tore a branch from a cedar and slashed both horses. They
plunged out of the glade, and clattering over the stones, brushing the
cedars, disappeared. Dave groped blindly back toward his brothers.
“Zeke, this's awful. Another murder by Snap! And my friend!... Who's to
tell father?”
Then Hare sat up, leaning against the stone, his shirt open and his bare
shoulder bloody; his face was pale, but his eyes were smiling. “Cheer
up, Dave. I'm not dead yet.”
“Sure he's not,” said Zeke. “He ducked none too soon, or too late, and
caught the bullet high up in the shoulder.”
Dave sat down very quietly without a word, and the hand he laid on
Hare's knee shook a little.
“When I saw George go for his gun,” went on Zeke, “I knew there'd be a
lively time in a minute if it wasn't stopped, so I just said Jack was
dead.”
“Do you think they came over to get me?” asked Hare.
“No doubt,” replied Dave, lifting his face and wiping the sweat from his
brow. “I knew that from the first, but I was so dazed by Snap's going
over to Holderness that I couldn't keep my wits, and I didn't mark Snap
edging over till too late.”
“Listen, I hear horses,” said Zeke, looking up from his task over Hare's
wound.
“It's Billy, up on the home trail,” added George. “Yes, and there's
father with him. Good Lord, must we tell him about Snap?”
“Some one must tell him,” answered Dave.
“That'll be you, then. You always do the talking.”
August Naab galloped into the glade, and swung himself out of the
saddle. “I heard a shot. What's this? Who's hurt?--Hare! Why--lad--how
is it with you?”
“Not bad,” rejoined Hare.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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