Mister Slaughter
Mister Slaughter
“One of the horses was missing, while the other stood with head hanging and shoulders slumped, forlorn in its solitude and unable to reach any leaf or stem of edible vegetation.Matthew followed Walker up the hillside. It was still the dim light of early morning, the clouds thick overhead, and the air smelling again of approaching rain. Walker had already pointed out the clear prints of Slaughter's bare feet. "He's carrying something heavy," Walker had said, and Matthew had nodded, knowing it was... the explosive safebox.The missing horse made Matthew's guts twist. He'd thought that surely neither of those old swaybacked nags would have carried a rider. And, anyway, how fast could the horse go, even if whipped by a stick? Still, for Slaughter to have a horse meant he could give his legs and lungs a rest, which was a definite advantage over his trackers—or at least one of them.At the first rooster's crow this morning, the wet nose of a dog sniffing his face had brought Matthew up from his sleep beside Walker's dwelling.MoreLess
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