Collection 1989 - Long Ride Home (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour

set in a tight, grim line. He loosened the big guns, and despite his throbbing head, cantered down the trail.
    He didn’t have far to ride. Only about three hundred yards from where he had waited, he found, the coach, lying on its side, one wheel smashed. A dead horse lay in a tangle of harness, and sprawled on the ground was the stage driver. He had been shot between the eyes with a rifle.
    About twenty yards away, evidently killed as he was making for the shelter of a circle of boulders, was the messenger.

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    I T WAS TWO hours before Clip Haynes rode up in front of the the High-Stake Palace and tied the black to the hitching rail. His head throbbing, he stepped in.
    At once the hard round muzzle of a gun jammed into his spine.
    Clip stopped, his hands slowly lifting.
    â€œBack up, an’ back careful!” he heard Buff McCarty saying, his voice deadly. “One false move an’ I’ll drill you, gunman or no gunman!”
    â€œWhat’s the matter, Buff?” Clip asked. His head throbbed and he felt his anger mounting.
    â€œYou ask what’s the matter!” Wade Manning snapped. Stepping up he jerked Clip’s guns from their holsters. “We trusted you, and then you—”
    â€œWe found the money, that’s what!” Buff snarled, his voice husky with rage. “The money you took off Tommy! We shook down your duffle bag an’ found it there—the whole three thousand dollars you murdered him for!”
    â€œListen, men!” he protested. “If you found any money there it was a plant. Why—”
    â€œI’m sorry, boy,” Doc Greenley interrupted, shaking his head gravely, his usual smile gone. “We’ve got you dead to rights this time!”
    Clip started to protest again, and then his jaw clamped shut. If they wanted to be like that, argument, he figured, was useless. He turned to walk out, and found himself facing Porter.
    The big man sneered, and, for just an instant as Clip watched him, he saw the man’s eyes flash a message to one of his captors. Then Porter was past, and Clip was being rushed to jail.
    When the cell door clanged shut he walked across the narrow room, dropped on his bunk and was almost immediately asleep.
    It seemed a long time later when he was awakened. It was completely dark, and listening, he knew the jail was deserted.
    Clip walked across to the window, and took hold of the bars.
    Then he heard a whisper. “Haynes!”
    â€œWho is it?” he asked softly.
    â€œIt’s me—Rafe. Stick your hand through the bars. I’ve got a key!”
    Clip Haynes thrust his hand out, and felt the cold metal of a jail key in his hand. Then he heard Rafe speaking again. “Better make it quick. Porter’s got a mob about worked up to lynching you.”
    In two strides he was across the cell. The key grated in the lock, and the door swung wide. Then he turned and stepped back, throwing the blankets into a rough hump to resemble a sleeping figure. Going out, he locked the door after him. His gun belts were on the desk in the outer office, and he swept them up, hurriedly checking the guns as he stepped outside.
    Rafe Landon was waiting there. Surprisingly, Rafe had the black horse with him. Without a word, Clip gripped the gambler’s hand, and then swung up.
    â€œListen,” Rafe said, gripping his wrist. “Whoever robbed that stage today kidnaped Ruth!”
    â€œWhat!” Clip jerked around, his jaws set.
    â€œShe rode out along the trail just before the stage left town. She told me she wanted to watch you. She hasn’t returned yet, and Wade’s just found out. There’s only one place she can be—with the Barlows!”
    â€œYou know where they hang out?” Clip snapped.
    â€œSomewhere back of the Organ. There’s a box canyon up there, that might be it. Take the west route around the Organ and you’ll find the trail, but watch your step!”
    Clip