The Gunfighter trail... - A Western

[hvj1]

Methinks, there sure as shootin, a many cow punchers ere. Thanks all for the ecouragement and corrections.
BR

[xl_target]

Just thought I would throw in some themed music for a background as you read the episodes. .... and bump this post.

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[youtube][/youtube]

[hvj1]

Chapter Five

Twenty miles to the west, Will, having left the entrance to the bowl, moved silently through dense wooded junipers, firs and ponderosa pine. Wading through streams, stopping frequently, to scan the terrain before crossing. Though it was nearing winter, there was no telling about hunting party injuns themselves far from their hunting lodges.

Gradually moving down hill, he filtered through the forest, staying clear off the ridge line, preferring to move just alongside, where he would not present a profile to sharp injun eyes.Riding through a canyon, he crossed over a stream and made camp for the night, deep within a copse of trees and bushes. Gathering twigs, sticks, dried leaves, he lit a small fire under a fallen tree. Heating up some coffee, he chewed on a part of the roasted venison, which he had left for Pete.

After rubbing down his horse, he made sure that he had enough forage to feed on, he returned to what little remained of his fire. Resting his back to the saddle, with his Henry rifle and pistols close by, he relaxed slowly. He thought of Pete, part of him felt sorry for what he imagined the boy would go through. But it would toughen him up, the way he too had toughened up and survived in this country.

The Sierra Nevada was an extremely harsh place to be for any human, let alone a boy. He remembered his own childhood, when his parents had set out in 1841 from St. Louis in Missouri. His father John O’Keefe, had served in the British Army in India, en route to Ireland, he decided to see for himself what America was all about. There was not much future for him back home, with the few gold coins he had saved up and a few jewels stashed away from battles in Afghanistan, he wanted a better opportunity in a new land where he could make a place for himself.

America promised everything, so he found himself in Missouri, where he worked with a mule breeder. He eventually married one of the daughters, who gave birth to a daughter and in the following year a son.
Keeping himself abreast of news filtering in from the West, he heard of the success of fur trappers and news of gold discovery in California. The rich and fertile lands of Oregon, where land was seemingly for the taking. Having discussed it with his wife, he made arrangements with a wagon train moving out from St. Louis. The only difference was that he used mules instead of Oxen.

It was a small wagon train, comprising of just six families and their six wagons. The going was never easy, two months later they were plodding along the Oregon Trail into Wyoming. Camping by a river one night, Will, who was ten at that time, got up in the middle of the night to answer a call of nature.

Slowly, he threw his rugs aside, slipping over the side, he crouched in the darkness. A little distance away he could make out the light reflecting of the river water. Imagining himself to be an injun, he slithered past other wagons and their sleeping occupants. Casting a look back, he saw that all was quiet. Jeremiah Smith, whose job it was to do sentry duty, was sitting with his legs crossed, his rifle across his knees, his chin sunk to the chest.

Satisfied that was undetected; he smiled and slithered into the bushes. Relieving himself, he found that he was now wide awake and had no desire to go back to sleep, despite the cold. So he injuned on till he came across some bushes with edible berries. Here he proceeded to tuck into handful of the ripest ones, feeling them first with his finger for size.

The shot froze him, with his hand half way to his mouth, he heard distant commotion, another shot followed, screams and yells. Dropping the berries he had collected for Margaret, he ran back towards the camp site. Stumbling he fell down in some bushes which screened the camp site from his view. Crawling on hands and knees, he burrowed through them.

In the flickering campfire, he saw figures struggling with each other desperately, the wagon train families were being systematically butchered. He saw his father in the grip of a huge man, who held both his arms behind as another took turns to drive a knife repeatedly into his father’s body. Slowly John ceased to struggle, the big man let go of his arms, who crumpled to the ground. The big man was heaving with exertion, he kicked the body viciously before turning away.

A tall thin man with an eye patch,dragged Margaret by the hair, swinging a club he bashed her skull in. Will opened his mouth to scream but no sound came forth, crying out soundlessly, his mind unable to cope up with the horrors he had witnessed eventually lost consciousness.

The next morning, he opened his eyes, for a few moments he could not place himself, then he remembered the night before. Quickly he struggled up, parting the bushes he stumbled across to the camp site. But there was nothing to be seen, no wagons, no traces of camp fire, no bodies, nothing!

He ran around in circles, he could see the tracks of the wagons leading out of the camp. Casting about in panic, he saw some places where the ground bore signs of deep struggle. The earth was gouged out, here and there were darks stains, probably of blood. He searched through the forest, but found nothing. It was as if the ground had opened up and swallowed the entire wagon train.

Going back to the bushes where he had found berries, he crammed his mouth with them to satiate his hunger. Stooping along the banks of the river he drank. Looking down river, something caught his attention, moving along the river bank, he saw what looked like a hand in the reeds. Splashing through shallow waters, he dragged out a body. It was the mutilated body of the Wagon train leader, his scalp was missing and he had two broken arrows in his chest.

Looking down the river, he slowly cast about for signs of other bodies, there were none to be found. If there were any, they must have floated downstream. He spent the entire day desperately searching, but found no other evidence. Tracing his steps back to the camp site, he stopped to feed himself a few more berries. It was just as well that he did so, thus remaining hidden from two horsemen who were casting about looking for signs within the campsite. One of them was the tall thin man, he could recognize him from the eye patch he wore. But these two were now dressed entirely differently. Garbed in the outfit of mountain men, with bundles of fur behind their saddles.

“Aw lets get outta here, Burney, this ere place is clean as a whistle”, the man with the patch, took one last look around then turned his horse, “ Ya’know, a body can’t take things too lightly”, anybody left alive , gits to tell a tale, an we all end up dancing at the end of a rope”.“ That’s afore Fat Jacob, gits through us first, fer being mite careless,” replied his companion, so saying they rode away.

Will waited till they had disappeared over the nearest hill, which was almost a mile away, still, he crawled and hid himself amongst some bushes, trembling with anger and fear. The next morning, after studying the trail taken by the two killers carefully, he moved towards the hill, but not directly. Tracing a circuitous route, which hid him from any probable watchers on the hill, he made way till around noon, he topped the hill and came across the trail of the two riders, these he followed carefully, till the trail joined a few others. A short distance away, he came across the wagon trail.

[hvj1]

Chapter Six

Lurking through the Lodge pole pine trees, keeping the trail in view, Will followed it through foothills twists and turns, sometimes the trails crossed streams, these he waded across, till it took a turn into a box canyon.
Deep into the canyon, he crept stone to stone, injuning it, only this time it was’nt childsplay. In one fell moment, his childhood had disappeared, the childhood fun and frolic games of injuns had now turned to a grim business of survival, for he had no false notions regarding his own chances of survival, considering the ruthlessness of the bandits.

From a distance he could now hear voices, much of which he could not make out too clearly, the sound of hammers and other sounds of men at work. Dreading the risk of being spotted by going directly, he traced instead, a route up the canyon,which provided him ample cover. Finally through a gap in a boulder pile, he spied the men far below.

It was a camp of sorts, where a dozen or so men, probably the gang itself were busy dismantling the wagons.
Clothes, blankets, utensils, provisions and other odds and ends were being stacked in separate piles. The wagons themselves were being dismantled and stacked into planks, harnesses, yokes, wheels. On one side of the camp, a camp cook was busy at the fire.

On a spoken command all work came to a halt, it appeared that Burney, the one eyed murderer appeared to be in command. The men gathered around the fire, helping themselves to whatever was dished up at the fire.
Smattering of conversations, floated up to him when the wind was right. The smell of food, was over powering causing Will’s stomach to growl, his mouth to salivate. He had to steal some of the food down there, but it was too risky during daylight, perhaps he could chance it at night.

Slowly he crawled ever so quietly, gradually moving into a position which placed him within thick bushes, not more than twenty feet from the fire. Bottles were passed around as the men set about drinking. An argument arose amongst the group whether a guard should be posted, but it was shot down since none of the crooks wanted to miss out on the drinking and gluttony.

During the night, Will stole quietly through the pillage. In a sack, he stuffed a few articles of warm clothing, a knife, canteen, matches, a quiver of arrows and a bow. Passing the cooking site, he helped himself to cooked and raw pieces of beef, some salt, some sugar and also threw in a small pot. Stealthily he made his way back to cover, gradually making his way away from the camp site.

The next morning, after making sure the coast was clear, he struggled with his load, climbing further away till he reached the canyon edge. On the other side he climbed down hill, finding a game trail, he followed it into some hills. Here he came across a small stream. Resting amongst boulders and rocks, he prepared camp. Having eaten the cooked meat and drunk from the stream, he traced the trail through some more hills, till he came across a mountain ridge. Following the trail, which now passed across a shelf in the mountain. Here he came across a small cave, which was hidden from view from below. Tossing the sack at the rear of the cave, he lit a small fire, using a few dead branches of lodge pole pine.

For many days, he stayed in the cave, foraging out for berries, pine nuts and dead wood. Gathering courage he went back to the canyon, to spy on the bandits. The canyon was empty! Apart from the blackened stones of the fireplace, a few odds and ends lying about, there was now no trace of the six wagons nor the oxen or mules. Following the trail of the wagon wheels, he came out of the opposite end of the canyon, the trail petered out in the distance going roughly north west into the distant plain.

Standing at the edge of the canyon, looking out at the wide open Plain, Will felt timid at the thought of venturing out in the open, where he could be spotted quite easily. Returning back to his hideout, he was shocked to find that he was not alone!

Three Indians in buck skins, stood mutely watching him, they saw the bow in his hands, then conversed briefly with each other. One of them stepped towards the boy, Will calmly, drew an arrow and notched it, though he did not point it at the warrior. This amused the three Indians. They came together and squatted on the ground. One of them lit a small fire, while the other drew a dead rabbit, which he skinned. This done, they began roasting the meat, the first warrior indicated to Will a place on the ground opposite him, inviting him with a smile.

After a moment of hesitation, he joined them, though keeping himself well out of reach and holding on to his bow and arrow. The Indians looked at each other in amusement, they themselves kept their bows aside to assuage the boy’s fear.

The meat was shared, Will stood up and walked to the rear of the shelf, where he had kept his sack. Retrieving it, he brought it back to the group and placed it in front of the leader. The Indians looked into the sack curiously, drawing each item with surprise and much discussion. Finally, the leader, pointed at the items and indicated towards him. To which the boy nodded, picked up the salt, sugar and dried meat and handed it to the leader. This set off more chatter amongst the group, who seemed to be pleased.

The leader spoke to one of his men, who got up and dissapeared into the forest, returning shortly, leading a horse. The leader, pointed the horse to Will, indicating that the horse was his in exchange for the sack full of items.
The Indians mounted up, Will climbed up on his mount and they led him through the forest.

They travelled many miles finally, reaching an Indian village. There were many tepees around. These were the Shoshone tribe, who were friendly Indians. Their Chief Washakie's word was law, it was Chief Washakie’s policy to trade with the white man, who came along in ever increasing numbers along the Oregon Trail. In time his policy of friendship with the white man, bore fruit in the years to come, when all around them, other tribes lost their lands to the white man, almost all of the Shoshone lands were retained by their future generations.

Will’s instinctive trade gesture with the leader of the group of shoshones’s who found him, thus sat well with Chief Washakie himself, who named Will as the Little Wise One. Over the next four years, ‘Man Who Walks Tall’ , the Indian who befriended him and his wife Kimani, adopted the boy and taught him the ways of the Shoshones.

Man Who Walks Tall, taught Will everything about hunting, and the Shoshone language. It was Kimani however, who taught him to locate and gather herbs for medicine, fruit and tubers. Kimani held an exalted position within the tribe, on account of her super natural powers, she was often treated as an oracle.

Kimani took it upon herself to train the boy in her ways. She took the boy on long journeys, sometimes deep into the forests, high up on the mountains and sometimes into the desert. Here she bade Will to sit besides her, for hours on end, they would sit in silence. Kimani taught Will, to not only listen with his ears but to use all his senses in a way; that his ears should be able to see, his eyes to feel, his touch on any stone, tree or earth to hear… For this she trained Will to endure unflinchingly to extreme cold, heat, thirst, hunger and, pain. To sit in one place and become a part of the desert, forest, mountain or river. To heighten the senses to such an extent, so as communicate with the spirits of the streams, trees, animals and forests around them.

[ckkalyan]

Nice...building up well hvj1! Congrats on the authentic info on the Indian tribes.

[hvj1]

Nice...building up well hvj1! Congrats on the authentic info on the Indian tribes.

Thanks Ckkalyan, I have done extensive research before writing, I guess,,extensive research makes the difference between real writing and bullshittin
Thanks very much for your invaluable support.
Regards

[xl_target]

Nice...building up well hvj1! Congrats on the authentic info on the Indian tribes.

Yes it is!
waiting eagerly for the next installment.

[dr.jayakumar]

as i read, i felt as if i am watching a western movie.
regards

[brihacharan]

Hi hvjI,
> Great going pardner, ain't read somethin like this in a long time.
> You just put the clock back to my late school / early college days ... the best time machine ever invented!
> Never missed a western, book or movie - SUDDEN was my favorite...
> Movies such as ...
1. Last train from gunhill
2. Gun fight at OK corral
3. Broken arrow
4. Annie get your gun
5. The Big country
> Actors like, Garry Cooper / James Stewart / Audie Murphy / Kirk Douglas / Burt Lancaster / Gregory Peck / Charleston Heston ...............
> The adventure, romance of the wild west, saddle, sweat, the quick draw, the hair tingling sound of a winchester 44 underlever being cocked and the sound of the richochetting bullet....
> Man oh man i could go on... but I leave it to you to continue the serial....
Cherrs
Briha

[hvj1]

Thanks Xl, Dr. Jaykumar, Brihacharan.....
Chapter Eight

At fifteen, Will was a now a fair hand at hunting, catching wild horses and breaking them. Adept with the lance, bow, knife fighting skills, along with the almost daily grappling and wrestling with other young bucks. His swiftness, agility and uncanny ability to locate wild animals on the hunt, led him to be rechristened as the ‘Wolf’. He now joined the Shoshones in their long hunting trips to distant lands.

Coming back to the snake river, where the main villages of the eastern Shoshones were located, ‘Man Who Walks Tall’ was deputed by Chief Washakie to help his friend Jim Bridger, a mountain man and trail blazer, find a suitable location for setting up his fur trading post. This post was later to become Fort Bridger. However in the early days, it was a mere collection of thatched mud wall adobes with a single stone dwelling. The Fort was manned initially by the Shoshones, themselves.

Will learned to trade with the Mountain men, who lived and trapped in the distant mountains for beaver pelts. Will learnt to read and write in the school established by the Mormons, who belonged to Brigham Young’s Church of the later Day Saints. This was encouraged by Chief Washakie, who also wanted the children of the Shoshones to learn the ways of the white man. Will attended this school for the next few years. At the same time learning to trade with the emigrants who travelled west, along the Oregon, California and Bozeman Trails.

One day, a party of four men, leading a pack train arrived at the Fort, Will had just stepped out of a store, when he came face to face with one eyed Burney! It was to his credit and his Indian upbringing, which permitted him to maintain a stoic Indian expression, revealing none of his internal turmoil.

Averting his glance, he stepped aside, heart pounding and mouth dry, he walked a short distance towards a furrier’s tent. Casually going through the beaver pelts, he glanced back towards the store. There was no sign Burney, who must have gone inside the store.

It was almost ten years since the massacre, Burney had no way of connecting him with the massacre. What Burney saw was a young white man, dressed in rough Indian clothing, which was not too surprising as there were not many stores selling western apparel. Out here in the west, one carried on with buckskins, moccasins and beaver hats mostly.

Will, moved on to where Burney’s group had settled. He recognized the rotund companion of Burney, as he along with two other rough looking men went about setting their camp. For the next three days, Will kept a discreet eye on the group and their activities. It seemed that they had come to the fort for provisions and trade. They swapped clothes, camp utensils, blankets and many odds and ends needed by the wagon trains.

A large group of emigrants with their Conestoga wagons pulled by oxen had drawn up to the fort to rest, exchange information and barter goods they would require on the long haul ahead.
Will noticed the rotund one in animated conversation with four of the new arrivals. Passing close to the group, remaining unobtrusive, he gathered that the rotund fellow, named Toby, was trying to sell the four, the idea of a shorter route than the one they were to follow.

From the looks of it, most of them were mulling over the alternative route recommended by Toby, quite favourably. After further confabulation, they moved towards the leader of the larger group, where more discussion followed. Toby though took no part in this, melting away at an opportune moment.

The leader of the main group looked doubtful and shook his head, the four remained adamant and appeared to argue for going separately.The leader shrugged his shoulders and walked away, leaving the four to scatter and inform their families.

The next day, the larger group had moved out at dawn. The smaller group, now comprised six wagons,which were formed by six families, the Teales, Smithy, Gunnarson, Baker, Morgan, and Hammond. Smithy was a blacksmith by trade, Morgan and Baker, were miners, Teales a farmer, while Hammonds was a carpenter. Gunnarson the swede was interested in setting up a store. The six families comprised of six men, eight women and five children.

To Will, the pattern seemed very clear, Toby, under the pretext of a shorter better route, would divert them from the main trail into a secluded area, where the wagon train would be at the mercy of the bandits.
This was what they must have done with his family and their wagon train! Yet what could he do? Whatever was to be done must be done quickly, for the group were making their final preparations and would be off shortly.

Will rode swiftly away from the Fort, towards the Indian village, arriving only late in the evening. He shared his thoughts with, ’Man Who Walks Tall’ and Kimani, who knew of the tragedy which had befallen him. It was decided to inform Chief Washakie. Together they approached Chief Washakie’s lodge. After hearing the entire story, Washakie, who was aware of the boys background, bade Kimani to speak first. “The Spirits of the ‘Wolf’ s parents and families and those of others are not at peace, Will himself would never be at peace, till he has avenged their deaths’. Grunting, Washakie, pointed to ‘Man Who Walks Tall’, “I will go with the ‘Wolf’”.

Setting his pipe aside the Chief spoke, ”I cannot allow a Shoshone to take the life of any White Man”. “However, you,” he pointed at Will, “You must go alone and count coup on those who have killed your family”. “Go as a white man, not as a Shoshone”.

Leaving the Chief’s lodge, Will made preparations to leave. Kimani spoke to Will, as he gathered up the reigns of his horse and prepared to mount. “ You are my son, Go with the wind, listen to the eagle, strike like a snake”, “but above all. Heed the dark shadow within you, for it will strive to grow bigger than you, if this were to happen, then your spirit too shall be lost, for you will be just like one of those whom you wish to kill, to kill for the sake of killing alone, so shall you roam the wilderness like a rabid coyote.”

“Then what should I do?” asked Will, confused.
“You must look inside you to find the answer, that is for you to seek also?” Said Kimani, with a sad smile.
Man Who Walks Tall, placed his hand on Will’s shoulder, “You are my son, my lodge is yours, always….Go the Warrior’s way.”
Mounting his horse and with one backward glance and a wave, Will with a heavy heart, galloped away.

[hvj1]

Chapter Nine

Will reached Fort Bridger to find that the Wagon train had already left! Needing to rest his horse and take on a few necessary items, he decided to leave the next day.

Sitting on the stoop of the furrier’s house, he pondered on the task ahead of him. He had no illusions regarding his own capabilities, at best he was bucking a stacked deck. A deck full of cut throat knaves, if ever there was a grimmer lot!

The fact that they had continued so long, spoke volumes of their planning and ruthless cold blooded execution. On the other hand, he had never raised a hand on anyone with malice, yet he would now be called upon, to not only strike, but to…kill and kill equally ruthlessly and cold bloodedly!

No, he must go about this very carefully, what had Kimani said? To go with the wind, listen like an eagle and strike swiftly as a snake! He must follow them and wait for an opportune moment. But would he be able to kill? Well he would know, when the time came, or his blood too would mingle with the earth.

He must use all his acquired skills of stealth during hunting and above all he must have weapons, protection from the elements and food. He had his bow, sufficient arrows, he could make more whenever he wished, a good knife, an Indian club. He had a blanket and a bear coat, food was not going to cause him too much worry, he could easily live of the land or go without!

He had several advantages over his adversaries, which he hoped would tilt the scales in his favor. The first was, none of them were aware of his existence, so he must try not to reveal his presence. He was alone and could travel much quicker and with greater concealment than them. Finally, he knew how to disappear even when there was no cover to hide a deer.

Early the next day, Will left the fort on a steel dust Stallion, picked from the remuda, maintained by the Shoshones at the fort. The horse was built for speed and stamina, like most Shoshone horses, he could go for miles on very little, subsisting on local forage.

Even with two days lead, Will was not too worried, since the wagons could average around 10 miles a day, the best could be around 12, the worst around 8 miles. In any case, their first destination would be Fort Hall, which was 210 miles away.

Loping along the trail, moving northwards, churned by the passage of hundreds of wagons and emigrants gone before, Will, sometimes walked, trotted and cantered along till he reached Little Muddy Creek. There he camped for the day, out of view from the main trail.

The next day, Will had crossed the Bear River Divide into the beautiful breathtaking Bear River Valley.
Climbing up the Valley side, he gradually moved up towards the ridge line, always making sure that he was well concealed.

Camping the night in a cove, warmed by a small fire, he rested the night. The next morning, travelling in much the same manner as the previous day, he saw the breakfast smoke of the wagon train camped along the banks of the Bear River.

For a moment he felt his heart in his mouth, for the site was similar to the night of the massacre! It took him two hours to find a route which concealed him, while he approached the wagons. Leaving his horse behind, he now approached the camp on foot. From a distance of a hundred yards, he was relieved to see the camp preparing to move out. He made out Toby and two of his companions, off Burney however there seemed no sign!

Will followed the wagons from a safe distance, two things were apparent to him. That the families in the Wagon train trusted Toby, since he was clearly leading the train, the second, that there was still no sign of Burney!

So where was Burney? Probably he had never joined the train! Knowing that Toby was directing the train, he was probably somewhere ahead, waiting in ambush! So where could be the possible location of the ambush? He doubted they would attempt anything here, in the vicinity of the Bear river, since this was a trail much frequented.

He could approach the families of the wagon train, but would they heed his warnings? And how could he warn them, with Toby and his companions present with the group? He pondered over the problem while riding along, keeping the wagons within his sights.

The best thing to do was to keep an eye on Toby, for he was sure to get in touch with Burney, well in advance of the ambush. This thought cleared his mind so he stuck on the trail of the wagon train, till they crossed over the 'Big Hill'.

The ascent of the 'Big Hill' was steep and so also was the descent, the wagons had to be hitched to other oxen teams to be pulled, one by one over the 'Hill'. From the 'Big Hill', the wagon train now moved towards Soda Springs. Here there was excellent grass and water. The families took a halt for a few days, to provide rest for the animals and the clean water provided an opportunity for the women folk to wash their clothes.

Having rested, the wagon train now resumed its journey to Fort hall, but 5 miles after Soda Springs, the wagon train turned left, moving west bypassing Fort Hall completely! This was the ‘Hudspeth Cutoff’, which appeared to give the impression that the route was shorter. But this trail had to cross almost five mountain ranges.

Will, could now see the pieces of the pattern, gradually falling in place. The first was to avoid Fort Hall completely. This way, fewer people would remember the passing of this wagon train. Secondly, nobody would know that Toby and his gang were leading the wagon train. Thirdly, crossing the five mountain ranges, somewhere Toby and Burney would lead the wagon train astray, to a place where they could be ambushed and taken care off at leisure.

Finally, none of the wagon train families would have cause for suspicion, lulled by the presence of other wagon trails and excellent grass and water for their animals and themselves.

He would have to stay a bit closer to the wagons from now on and also keep a closer watch on Toby and his companions, to get a clue as to where the ambush may occur.

On the third day of the travel through the ranges, Toby appeared to leave the wagon trail, even before the first meal was prepared! It almost caught Will off guard, for he spied Toby’s retreating back, just before he disappeared around a bend, not more than a hundred yards from the camp! Will himself was camped far higher and above the camp, within a copse of pines.

Grabbing on to the reins of his mount, riding bareback, he crossed the ridgeline and travelled as quickly as possible in the general direction of Toby. For an hour he travelled, cresting the ridge from time to time, allowing only his head to break cover, in an effort to locateToby.

A movement, a little ahead and up the hill, on the other side of the same ridge on which Will too was travelling, Will saw Toby’s horse tied to some bushes, off Toby there was no sign!

Dismounting, Will tied his horse and moved swiftly through the trees, knowing that he was reasonably safe from being spotted by Toby, since the ridge was between them.

Coming almost opposite to the spot where Toby’s horse was tied, Will ghosted up the ridge line. As he did so, he was shocked to find Toby himself, not five yards ahead of him, kneeling on the ground trying to light a fire!

Some slight noise must have given him away, causing Toby to turn around, both were shocked to see each other, Toby dropped the matches he was carrying and moved swiftly to draw his pistol! Will had no choice but to throw the stout wooden club that he was carrying!

The club hit Toby on the side of his head, just as he was bringing the barrel to bear. Stunned and already half balanced, while kneeling, Toby lost his balance completely and fell over.

He crashed through a few bushes, trying desperately to grab a hold, failing, he slid down the ridgeline. Finally, losing all control, he went crashing down the steep slope, coming to a jarring halt at the base of a pine tree!

Will stood rooted to the spot, from where he had thrown the club. Seeing no movement from Toby, Will picked up Toby’s pistol and carefully made his way down the slope towards where Toby lay.

Toby lay with eyes staring lifelessly, a trickle of blood traced a crooked path from the corner of the mouth. It appeared that Toby had broken his neck, when he slammed at the base of the tree trunk! Will sank to his haunches, removing his beaver cap. After a while, he rose placing his cap on his head, he thought it best to leave the body where it rested.

Just as he was about to turn away, he noticed a fat leather belt with several buttoned pockets, around Toby’s middle. The slide down the slope had caused Toby’s shirt to be ripped up, exposing the belt.After a moment’s pause, he reached down and undid the belt with some difficulty. Tugging it hard, he pulled it free with a jerk. In so doing, the body which was precariously balanced at the base of the tree, slid to one side, before Will could grab it, it slithered further down the incline, gaining momentum, it hit a small outcrop, stopped for a fraction of a second then slowly careened over to fall out of view. A moment later, he heard a sickening thud. Slinging the belt across his shoulder, Will slowly traced his way up the slope.

[airgun_novice]

Chapter 8 - best till date. Stealth, cunning, patience - quality required of Will's "coup de vengeance" getting introduced in the last two paragraphs. Good progress, hvj1 guruji.

[hvj1]

Thanks AGN, your comments and those of others helps me hugely to plough on. I invite all of you to criticise, I will take it constructively.
BR

[ckkalyan]

I invite all of you to criticise, I will take it constructively.BR

Hi hvj1 - another good episode in the saga. I especially admire the invitation - you have courage sir

[xl_target]

Good Stuff, sir.

Need more!