SixFrom his vantage point, Simms watched their progress through a pair of army-issue binoculars and waited, his breathing low and easy. Nevertheless, he felt disappointed. He had hoped against hope the posse would never have managed to come to fruition. Of course, if he thought about it hard enough, he knew, deep down, they had to come. They would have laughed at his note, probably shared the p*****t between themselves, and decided on killing him regardless. His chief surprise, however, lay in their ability to track him. Or maybe it was simple luck. There were few routes west towards Bridger, they just happened to have picked the right one.
He checked his carbine and squinted down the barrel. There were three of them. Another few minutes, there would be two. The others might then give it
