Post #97178
May 18, 2017, 10:46:26 PM
Seeing the rest having come to a halt next to the abandoned campsite (didn't they know not to stop? Such things were bad luck. Stupid whiteskins), Joe indignantly exhaled, a frustrated grunt that was all he would allow himself for now.
With a few subtle moves, he guided his horse back around and had his horse canter back the half mile or so he'd gone ahead (wasn't urgent enough to need to tire the horse with a gallop, there was still enough light out for another hour or two). Hopefully they'd find out for themselves why smart people had no truck with abandoned camps - either a bear had gone through it, or worse people than their bunch. Wasn't even like the tents would save them work, things were half-torn to shreds.
It always struck Joe as odd that gangster types never seemed to think other people could be as bad as they were, as if they thought the whole world was just stupid children you could walk over and take things from without them ever figuring for themselves how to walk over and take their things right back.
No rush for the present, though. If there were others planning on an ambush, they'd plan it for the middle of the night, not middle of the afternoon. He'd just mutter a thing or two about 'seein' a good spot 'bout a mile or two yonder', hope the rest took the hint. If not, well, hell, Jimmy Luckett was dumber'n he looked.