“Oh, please, don’t hurt me. I am but a poor woman, I have done you no harm.”
Moving quickly, Duff climbed over the railing of the bridge, then down the embankment.
“Miss?” he called. “Miss, where are you?”
“Help, oh please help!”
Duff started toward the voice.
“We’ve got one, Percy, don’t let him get away!” a woman’s voice said excitedly. It was the same woman who had been calling for help.
Duff realized at once that he had fallen for a trap. And in the time it would take others to figure out what was wrong, Duff was already reacting. He knew that where he was standing would make him stand out in silhouette against the reflections off the Chicago River. He moved quickly to step farther under the bridge and to put the dark part of the embankment behind him.
“Where the hell did he go?” a gruff voice asked.
Duff looked toward the sound, using a trick he had learned when fighting on the desert in Egypt at night. By not looking directly at the object, but slightly to one side, a person could see better at night. Duff saw a shadow moving toward where he had been, but a moment earlier.
“Find him, Percy!” the woman’s voice said. “Don’t let him get away!”
Percy was holding one arm out in front of him.
“I’m going to cut him up good,” Percy said.
Duff breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that it wasn’t a gun. He wasn’t armed, and under the circumstances, he thought it would be a lot easier to deal with someone who was holding a knife than it would be to deal with someone who had a gun.
“I’m over here, Percy,” Duff said.
“What?” Percy said. He moved quickly toward where Duff had been when he spoke. But Duff had stepped to one side, and he felt, heard, and saw Percy make a wild and unsuccessful swipe with his blade.
Duff reached out at the exact moment Percy’s arm was most extended. Putting one hand on Percy’s elbow and the other on Percy’s wrist, he jerked the arm back, breaking it at the elbow.
“Ahhh!” Percy screamed in pain.
Duff heard the knife hit the ground, and reaching down quickly, he picked it up and tossed it into the river, hearing the little splash as it went in.
“Percy!” the woman shouted.
“He’s here,” Duff said.
“Percy, what happened?”
“The son of a bitch broke my arm!” Percy said, his voice strained with pain.
“Aye, but ye should be glad ’twas your arm I broke, and not your neck,” Duff said.
“You son of a bitch! You broke Percy’s arm?” the woman said, angrily.
“Tch, tch, such language from a lady,” Duff said. “Sure now, lass, an’ I’m beginnin’ to think ye were in nae danger at all, now, were ye?” Duff asked.
“Kill him, Percy! Kill him!” the woman said, her voice rising in fear.
“Kill him? I can barely move, you dumb bitch! How am I going to kill him?”
“I would be for betting that I’m nae the first ye have invited down here by your ruse,” Duff said. “But ’tis thinking I am that I might be your last.”
“I need a doctor,” Percy said. “M’arm is about to fall off.”
“Aye, if I were you, I would get that arm looked at,” Duff said. Stepping out from under the bridge, he climbed back up the embankment. Behind him, he could hear Percy and the woman arguing.
“I got him down here for you. The rest was up to you, but you couldn’t handle it.”
“He broke my arm,” Percy replied. “Can’t you understand that? He broke my arm. I need a doctor.”
Their angry and accusing voices faded behind him as he walked through the night back toward the hotel.
“Mr. MacCallister,” the hotel clerk called to him as he crossed the lobby.
“Aye?”
“You’ve a message, sir, from a Mr. Woodson.” The clerk handed a note to Duff.
“Thank you,” Duff said.
Duff took the message over to one of the sofas in the lobby and sat there as he unfolded it to read.
The Kansas City Cattle Exchange can make all the arrangements to provide you with Black Angus Cattle. Good luck with your enterprise.
Woodson.
Smiling, Duff put the note in his pocket. As soon as he got back to Wyoming, he would contact the Kansas City Cattle Exchange and make whatever arrangements as might be necessary.
PINNACLE BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2012 William W. Johnstone
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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.
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
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ISBN: 978-0-7860-3003-3
Notes
1
Snake River Slaughter