HERE NOR THERE - DENNIS G. (good books to read for young adults txt) 📗

A shot rang out and split the air two feet from Billy's head making a loud cracking sound as it whizzed by.
Riding hard west, he hoped, in a wide open gate deputy Billy Lawton of the United States Marshals service was clinging, knuckles white, to the reigns in his hands. A parched throat and the sandy grit in his teeth made him think of water but there was no time for that luxury. One quick pull from his canteen would slake this torturous thirst but he couldn't reach it at the moment so he forced the thought from his mind. A fierce sandstorm had been scouring the bare West Texas hard pan for hours and it was making his escape all the more difficult.
Billy was hugging tight to the neck of his blue roan, Cheyenne, keeping his head low and his body lower. His pursuers were taking random shots at him from time to time and even though they weren't the brightest bulbs in the box anyone of them could get lucky and hit him right square in the back or injure his horse.She had been running flat out for a good twenty minuets and even though her incredible speed and stamina had put a reasonable distance between them and their pursuers the second year filly was finally starting to slow under the strain and Billy swung his head around for another quick look behind him. He couldn't see a damn thing behind him through the swirling curtain of sand anymore so he knew Windy had widened the gap but that didn't mean they were safe. Just because he couldn't see them din't mean they were gone.
And even though the storm was blinding the men behind him too he knew all too well that it wasn't hard to follow fresh tracks in the desert. He couldn't say when but his Stetson had blown free and it was flapping wildly back and forth between his shoulders, held by the narrow leather strap tugging at his throat. He realized he was headed dead into the storm now beacause the sand started tearing at his face even harder.
He had pulled his worn, sun faded bandanna up covering his mouth and nose but it did little to stop the onslaught of harsh grit gathering in his mouth. The stinging sand assaulted his eyes, blowing in hard from every direction. His head began to hurt again and he thought to himself. No, not now! as he struggled to focus. Since the black outs had started a few days before he had begun to have all manner of strange images popping into his mind and the episodes usually brought on a searing pain that shocked his brain like lightning. The strange fragmented images had been accompanied by strange words like "elevator" or "taxi" or "television".
He knew he had never heard of any of these things yet they forced their way in like razor blades slidng into place with the distinct feel of memories rather than random thoughts. Truth to tell these strange flashes and unwanted images were terrifying him and he had been praying every day to a god who at the moment seemed to be a little preoccupied that they would just go away. He didn't have time for flights of fancy and
dumb assery just now and he sure as hell couldn't afford to black out again right now. So he pushed the image from his mind and dismissed it as a frantic or delirious mental rambling. And as quickly as it had entered his mind it was gone and he couldn't even remember what the spark of a thought was. He knew something had just forced its way into his mind and he knew that it was a strange image but damned if he could remember what the hell it was. The image was like a point of light in his mind that flashed so brightly from within that it momentarily blinded him and then it was gone and like the ghost of an old friend all that remained were the strange lingering words. He was beginning to understand that the more mild episodes could be controlled if he focused hard enough.
To throw off any concern that he was starting to feel about his sanity he decided to dismiss it as a result of the circumstances since they had arrived here. Not to mention the death of Marshall Hicks not thirty minuets before.
Deep down he knew that the events over the last couple of days had absolutely nothing to do with what was happening to him but at the moment denial was the best way to deal with it. It might give him the control he would need to survive this.
Then he snapped back to the problem at hand. He couldn't afford to start losing it right now. So he switched his thoughts to his horse.
He was just as concerned about how well Cheyenne was faring.
He had bought and broken Cheyenne himself when she was just a yearling, and he had never bonded with an animal in the way he had with her. Truth to tell he had never even bonded with a person quite like he had with Cheyenne. It was almost an empathic relationship, feeling each others moods and emotions. She knew when he was hurt, when he was happy and when he was scared and right now he was plenty scared. He could tell she knew it too. He could see that she would run herself till her heart stopped to see him clear of danger. No way in hell he was gonna let that shit happen.
He didn't need to be a mind reader to know that she was getting tired.
The growing lather of froth around the edges of her leather tack was a sure sign that she would soon begin to slow. Cheyenne was the fastest, strongest horse Billy had ever seen but even she couldn't maintain this furious pace for much longer. She would give her last breath for him and he knew it. Fact was she was already showing initial signs of distress and Billy prayed that they were headed in the right direction. If they weren't he would soon be forced to find some kind of cover and force a stand off. He would take his chances with the mob behind him before he let her run herself into the grave.
But considering the odds he was facing stopping for a head to head battle wasn't his first choice.
The muffled thunder of pounding hooves reverberated in the dust filled air behind him and it served as a steady reminder of just how bad the odds were. The sound had become more faint as Cheyenne had steadily increased the lead. "If she's exhausted, their horses must be damn near dead," he whispered to himself. He didn't know it then but he was dead on. Five of the horses on their heels had already fallen off the chase. Cheyenne had run them to their limits.
He swung around in his saddle to take another look behind him and saw nothing. "But if I can still hear them its still too damn close." And he knew these were not the type of men to give up the chase easily.
A full twenty riders had been hot on his heels for the last half hour. He had been given the advantage of speed and since he grew up here he knew the terrain but his rushed escape, and the sand storm had him unsure about which direction he was really headed. Not to mention the last episode he had. That strange feeling of being electrocuted that had almost knocked him out of his saddle back in town. The attaks were getting worse and so was their timing. It was one thing for it to happen when Marshall Dixon had been around to pick him up but if this thing took hold of him now these buzzards behind him would put him in the dirt right quick.
Just as his horse began to fade Billy's prayers were answered. The seemingly impenetrable wall of wind and blistering sand began to clear and the out line of the canyon entrance was forming in front of him.
He rubbed his eyes with his free hand and prayed that it wasn't a trick of the storm. And with the relief of having a way to even the odds came reflection and a shift in thought from defensive to offensive.
Up until this moment he hadn't thought of anything but getting clear. Clear of town and clear of the bastards that killed Dixon. But now the grief and shock began to swim rapidly through his mind. He had watched marshall Dixon hit the ground and it all seemed to play out in slow motion almost like a nightmare, like it wasn't really happening.
And he had seen deputy marshal Carlton go down right in front of him. How had it had come to this? How had he become the prey so quickly? Harried, hunted and riding for his life. But he knew the answer.
He knew exactly what had led to this path.
If he had been there one minuet earlier.
If the strange headaches and memory gaps hadn't been happening.
If........!
He shook it off, there would be more than enough time to beat the hell out of himself later. That is if he was lucky enough to survive this. But at this point he sure was wishing he had never come on this assignment.
When Marshall Dixon had requested that the new deputy accompany him to Bristow, New Mexico Billy couldn't have been more excited.
He had been thrilled at the idea of returning home with his new badge riding high on his chest. And in the back of his mind he even dared to hope that Lydia Farmer had not gotten married yet.
His old sweetheart had been heartbroken when he chose to leave two years ago and to tell the truth it was the hardest decision he had ever had to make in his nineteen years.
But he loved being a Deputy Marshall and it hadn't even mattered to him when he found out the only reason he was asked on this trip was because he knew the territory like the back of his hand.
It was still an honor to ride with Marshall Dixon. A man with 20 years of experience as a law man and a reputation for being able to handle the tough assignments.
He was a bit of a legend. He usually worked alone but even Dixon had chosen to bring two deputy's on this one.
The people of the town of Bristow and the rest of Soccoro County had been terrorized for months by a group of outlaws that had settled on the area taking what they wanted and killing anyone who stood in the way.
They were calling themselves Diamond Backs but they were lower than any snake.
Bristow's Sheriff and all four of his deputy's had been gunned down along with four other members of a posse that had been tracking a small group of the gang members. They had ridden right into an ambush and were picked apart in minutes.
No one knew if they managed to kill any of the Diamond Backs and if anyone did they weren't saying.
Not long after that two constables were killed and left hanging in a tree on a main coach road as a warning to everyone. Bristow had been without a law man