Dragons Teeth Crichton 2017 (WWT)

“Those woods’re thick; you can’t see ten feet ahead of you. I’d never find ’em in there. But I knew
they were spread out along the bank and probably couldn’t see each other directly. So I just shot my
gun a few times, and made a few hideous cries.”
“Wyatt can really make hideous cries,” Morgan said.
“That’s so,” Wyatt said. “The Curry gang panicked and ran.”
“You mean you just tricked them?” Johnson said. In a strange way he felt disappointed.
“Listen,” Wyatt Earp said. “One reason I’m still alive is I don’t go asking for trouble. These boys
are none too quick, and they got an active imagination. Besides, we got a bigger problem than getting
rid of the Curry boys.”
“We do?”
“Yeah. We got to get this coach out of the river.”
“Why is that a problem?”
Earp sighed. “Boy, you ever tried to move a dead horse?”
It took an hour to cut the animal loose, and float it downstream. Johnson watched the dark carcass
drift with the current until it had disappeared. With the five remaining horses of the team, they
managed to haul the coach out of the sand and onto the far shore. By then it was dark, and they drove
quickly to Sheridan, where they obtained a fresh team.
Sheridan was a small town of fifty wooden houses, but it seemed everyone had turned out to greet
them; Johnson was surprised to see money changing hands.
Earp collected a lot of it.
“What’s going on?”
“They were wagering on whether we’d make it,” Earp said. “I had a few bets myself.”
“Which way’d you bet?”
Earp just smiled and nodded to a saloon. “You know, it would be sporting for you to go inside with
me and buy a round of whiskey.”
“You think we should drink at a time like this?”
“We won’t see any more trouble until Red Canyon,” Earp said, “and I’m thirsty.”