SixteenCruel outcomes
Late afternoon, the hottest part of the day, but with the sun to his rear, Simms retained a clear view of the landscape before him. With confidence rising, he felt sure their pursuers would not be expecting such a reaction, but Simms had always believed taking the fight to the enemy was the best course. Slapping his horse's rump with the barrel of his carbine, he broke into a canter, glanced across to Cartwright, and hissed, “You ready?”
“Oh Jesus.”
“Just keep your head down, boy. Get to cover, and shoot anything you see.”
Cartwright licked lips dry from either the sun, or fear. Perhaps it was both.
“Break!” shouted Simms, and kicked his horse's flanks hard.
At the signal, Simms' voice so loud, Cartwright's horse bucked and wheeled away, spooked by the Pinkerton
