Previously: “Ready to go, Festus?”
“Jes waitin’ on two more, Marshal Boomer,” the driver replied, “Is you sure th’ trail is safe?”
“The marshals and cavalry just made a sweep of the trail, so I expect it to be at least, a little safer.”
“Somehow, Marshal, that jes don’t make me feel all that safe.”
“That’s why I’m riding with you.”
“You are but one man, Marshal, an’ one lucky bullet kin git you kilt.”
“Yes—there’s truth in what you say. However, they tried that once—and failed.”
This is true, GENTLE READER, but will Boomer’s luck hold?
Chapter 8—Fort Justice—Episode 7… For the desert, the day was relatively cool with a light breeze—a relief from the heat of the past several days.
Boomer, Daisy, Pal and the stagecoach were on the trail and making passable progress.
Boomer was just about to break into song—sensing this, Pal quipped, “I’m not Trigger, Daisy’s not Bullet, and you—for certain—are not Roy Rogers. You couldn’t carry a tune in my oat-bucket.”
“You are such a pal, Pal.”
“He certainly is,” Daisy agreed, “Thanks, Pal!”
“As I walked down in the streets of Laredo/As I walked down in Laredo one day/I spied a cow puncher, all wrapped in white linen/Wrapped up in white linen and cold as the clay…”
“AR-ROOOOOOOO!!!!” Daisy wailed.
“NOOOOOOOOO!!!!” Pal whinnied.
“STOP!” Multiple passengers in the coach shouted.
Mercifully—Boomer stopped wailing.
Meanwhile—on the Fort Justice end of the same trail…
With Hiram leading, Susie, Sarah, Chris, AJ, and Little-Mac set-out for Loco. They were too far away to have heard Boomer “sing,” fortunately.
Not finding any highwaymen on their sweep troubled all.
Then again—it IS a big desert.
They rode at a leisurely pace and spread-out a little more than they usually ride, and quieter—with no singing.
Meanwhile—at the mine-site…
Eight riders emerged from hiding in the mine and set-out to do what highwaymen do.
What we don’t know, GENTLE READER, is which way they are heading (don’t let the illustration fool you)…
To be continued…