The Loner: Seven Days to Die (18 page)

The Kid was a little wary when he gave Haggarty his gun back, but the bounty hunter appeared to be keeping his word. He holstered the weapon and asked, “What’s the plan?”

“Once the rest of the men get here, they’re going down to the saloon to confront Bledsoe,” The Kid explained. He looked at the bouncer. “You’ll be in charge of them, Brady.”

“Me?” the fat man asked in surprise. “I’m no gunfighter.”

“No, but you’re a citizen of this town, and you’ll present it like you’re taking the town back from Bledsoe.”

“A challenge like that will just get us all killed!”

The Kid shook his head. “No, you’ll all find some good cover before you ever call out to Bledsoe. Some of you need to aim at the saloon, while the rest of the bunch gets ready for Bledsoe’s men who are scattered through the town to come running when the shooting starts.”

Brady rubbed his heavy jaw as he frowned in thought. “You mean they’ll come runnin’ right into an ambush.”

“That’s right,” The Kid said with a nod. “They’ll be out in the open and ought to be easy pickings while the rest of you keep Bledsoe and his men who are in the saloon pinned down there.”

“Well…it might work,” Brady admitted. “Those sons o’ bitches will put up a fight, though.”

The Kid nodded again. “Of course they will. That’s why I said this would be dangerous. But if you want your town back, you’ll have to fight for it.”

“I reckon that’s true.” Brady’s voice strengthened as he went on, “We’ll do it. But what are you gonna be doin’, Kid?”

The Kid inclined his head toward the bounty hunter. “Haggarty and I are going to get into the saloon and take Bledsoe by surprise.”

“We are?” Haggarty said.

“That’s right. I expect you’re anxious to see him with your own eyes, so you’ll know that I’m telling the truth.”

Haggarty’s burly shoulders rose and fell. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“He has Miss Fletcher and Drake in there. I figure when all hell breaks loose outside would be a good time to go in and get them.”

Haggarty thought it over and then nodded. “All right. Sounds like a good idea. I want Bledsoe alive, though.”

“We’ll try. I can’t make any promises.”

A savage grin tugged at Haggarty’s mouth. “I could always take you back again, you know. Fletcher believed it once.”

“He won’t again. Not after talking to his daughter.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. All right, we’ll do the best we can to take him alive and leave it at that.”

The Kid nodded in agreement. He turned back to Brady.

“Haggarty and I are going to slip out the back and get in position. We’ll wait until we hear the shooting start to make our move.”

“You don’t reckon there’s any chance Harrison—Bledsoe, whatever the hell his name is—will give up when I yell out and tell him to get out of town, do you?” Brady asked.

The Kid didn’t answer that.

Brady sighed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He held out his hand. “Good luck, Kid.”

The Kid shook hands with the bouncer. Rosarita hugged him, whispering in his ear, “The invitation is still open, Kid, any time. Just come back alive.”

He embraced her but didn’t make any promises.

The Kid and Haggarty slipped out the back door of the whorehouse, disappearing into the thick shadows in the alley. Even though The Kid had been in Gehenna only a little more than twenty-four hours, he knew the town better than the bounty hunter did, so he took the lead.

They had gone only a few yards when a figure suddenly loomed out of the darkness in front of them. The Kid knew instantly it had to be one of Bledsoe’s hired guns searching for him, even before the man asked in a whiskey-roughened voice, “Who—”

He didn’t get any further than that. The Kid whipped out his gun, but not to fire. They couldn’t afford a gunshot right now.

Instead he twirled the gun so that when he struck with the speed of an uncoiling diamondback rattler, it was the butt that crashed into the man’s head. He went down like a sack of stones. The only sound was the thud of the gun butt against his skull and the fainter thud of his body hitting the ground in the alley.

“You get him, Kid?” Haggarty whispered.

“Yeah.” The Kid knelt and used his fingers to explore the depression in the man’s head. Shattered bone moved under his fingers. The hired killer wouldn’t be waking up.

The Kid straightened and breathed, “Let’s go.”

The two men set off again for the saloon.

They didn’t encounter any more of Bledsoe’s gun-wolves along the way. The Kid recognized the building that housed the saloon when they came to it, but he wasn’t familiar with the rear of the place. Working by feel, he found a door, but it was locked.

“I can probably bust it down when the time comes,” Haggarty said into The Kid’s ear, so quietly that no one could have heard the words a yard away.

“Yeah, but if you couldn’t, that might ruin everything. Anyway, it would warn them that we’re coming.”

“You got a better idea?” Haggarty asked.

The Kid looked up and spotted a window on the second floor that was open a few inches. “Yeah,” he said as he pointed it out to Haggarty.

“How do we get up there?”

That was a tougher question to answer. The Kid started looking around the alley.

He found an empty crate. He thought if Haggarty were to stand on the crate, and he climbed up onto the bounty hunter’s shoulders, he would be able to reach the windowsill and pull himself up. Then maybe he could give Haggarty a hand somehow.

“I suppose we can give it a try,” Haggarty agreed. “Just don’t make any racket.”

They put the crate in place. The big question now was whether it would support the weight of both of them. Haggarty was a big man, and The Kid, though slender, wasn’t exactly a lightweight.

All they could do was try. Haggarty climbed onto the crate and flattened his hands against the wall to brace himself.

The Kid stepped up onto the crate and started climbing the bigger man. It was awkward and uncomfortable, and he almost slipped a time or two.

But he finally managed to get a foot on Haggarty’s shoulder and hoisted himself up. He leaned against the wall with one hand and reached up as high as he could with the other.

His fingers closed over the sill.

The Kid hung on tightly and got his other hand on the sill. Below him, Haggarty grabbed his ankles and lifted him even more. The Kid hooked one arm over the sill and used the other hand to push the window up more. He hoped it wouldn’t squeal too loudly as it opened.

It made some noise, but not much. The room within was dark, but that didn’t mean it was unoccupied. Somebody might well be waiting in there right now to kill whoever was sneaking in.

He levered the upper half of his body up and over the sill, then rolled the rest of the way into the room.

Nothing happened. The room was quiet.

The Kid got to his feet and stuck his head out the window to nod to Haggarty. He turned back into the room and felt around until he found an empty bed. Pulling the sheet off, he began tearing it into strips that he quickly knotted together to form a makeshift rope.

After tying the rope to the bed, he wrapped it around his waist, then dropped the rest of it out the window. He felt Haggarty take hold of it. The Kid sat down and braced his feet against the wall under the window as Haggarty’s weight made the rope cut into him.

The Kid kept his teeth clamped together so he didn’t make any sound. Haggarty felt like he weighed a ton, and it seemed like it took him an hour to climb up to the window, rather than a minute or so.

At last Haggarty pulled himself through the window and sprawled on the floor next to The Kid.

“Made it,” he said, and the gasp in his voice indicated that the climb hadn’t been easy for him.

The Kid unwound the rope from his body, grateful the wide leather gunbelt had kept it from cutting too deeply into his flesh. He got to his feet, as did Haggarty.

“What now?” the bounty hunter whispered.

“We wait for Brady and the men with him to make their move,” The Kid replied.

They didn’t have long to wait. Even though the open window was on the back of the building, they heard Brady’s shout from the street a few minutes later.

“Harrison! Hey, Harrison, you hear me?”

The Kid eased open the door. It led onto the balcony that overlooked the saloon’s main room. A hubbub of surprised voices drifted up from below.

A moment later, Bledsoe’s voice called, “Who’s out there? Speak up, damn you!”

“It’s the whole town,” Brady shouted, “come to tell you to take your gunmen and get the hell out!”

“Kill that fool,” Bledsoe snapped.

The Kid hoped Brady had sense enough to duck for cover.

A second later, shots roared down below and were answered by a thunderous volley from outside. It sounded like a small-scale war had broken out in Gehenna, which was about what it amounted to.

The Kid looked at Haggarty and nodded.

Both men drew their guns and stepped out onto the balcony.

The scene spread out before them wasn’t unexpected. Several of Bledsoe’s gunmen were crouched at the saloon’s front windows, which had been shattered by the gunfire from outside. They were returning the fire as fast as they could.

Back in the corner, Jillian and Drake still sat at the table with Bledsoe, while Malone, Woods, and Dakota Pete stood tensely nearby with guns in their hands. The three gun-wolves were going to protect their boss.

Bledsoe’s eyes caught the movement as The Kid and Haggarty stepped out. His head jerked up and he stared at them in shock.

He wasn’t the only one who was surprised. Haggarty had time to mutter, “Son of a bitch! I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes!”

Then Bledsoe surged to his feet as his hand clawed under his coat for a gun. He shouted, “On the balcony! Kill them!”

With the speed and instincts of true professional killers, Malone and Woods whipped their revolvers up and opened fire. Flame was already spouting from the muzzles of the Colts in the hands of the two men on the balcony.

Shots thundered in the saloon. Splinters flew from the railing along the front of the balcony as slugs struck it. The Kid felt more than heard the wind-rip of bullets past his ears.

He didn’t panic. His cool-nerved steadiness allowed him to put two bullets in J.P. Malone’s chest. Malone dropped his gun and went over backward as crimson welled from the wounds.

Beside The Kid, Haggarty’s gun roared and bucked as well, and Clyde Woods doubled over as the steel-jacketed rounds punched into his guts, shredding them. He collapsed face-first on the table in front of a horrified Jillian.

Bledsoe had his gun out, but before he could fire, Dakota Pete bellowed, “No!” and struck with his own pistol. The barrel thudded against Bledsoe’s skull and dropped the boss outlaw senseless on the floor beside the table.

Pete let go of his gun. It fell on the table. He thrust both hands up to shoulder height and shouted, “Hold your fire! Don’t shoot, Kid!”

The sudden outburst of violence inside the saloon had taken the gunmen at the windows by surprise. One of them jerked up to his feet and had started to turn when a rifle cracked somewhere outside and drilled him.

As that man flopped to the floor, Brady bounded in through the batwings carrying a shotgun. He swung the Greener at the second man and fired just as the man got a shot off. The slug tore through Brady’s leg and knocked him off his feet, but the load of buckshot had done a lot more damage to the gunman, blasting him out through the broken window in a bloody heap.

That left just one gunman. The blacksmith, Bonham, who had rushed into the saloon right behind Brady, took care of him with a swing of the big hammer in his hand. The killer went down with his skull crushed by the blow.

A few more shots sounded outside, but the battle in the saloon was over.

The Kid straightened from the gunfighting crouch into which he had instinctively dropped as he traded shots with Malone. He looked down at the big Viking standing with his hands up and asked, “Are you out of this, Pete?”

“Damn right I’m out of it,” Pete rumbled. “I never did cotton to some of the things Harrison had us doin’. Robbin’ banks and holdin’ up trains is one thing. Stealin’ from ordinary folks and killin’ ’em if they stand up to you is another.”

“All right. Move away from the table.” Gun in hand, The Kid started down the stairs trailed by Haggarty. “Bonham, see if you can tie up that wound in Brady’s leg.” The Kid hurried over to the table. “Miss Fletcher, are you all right?”

She looked pale and shaken, but as far as The Kid tell, she wasn’t wounded. She confirmed that by nodding and saying, “I’m fine, Kid.” She summoned up a weak smile. “You were supposed to call me Jillian, remember?”

The Kid chuckled, although it sounded out of place in the room choked by acrid clouds of gunsmoke that were only slowly drifting away.

“How about you, Drake?”

The man nodded. “Yeah, except for what that bastard did to me earlier.” He spat on the unconscious Bledsoe.

“There’s probably a doctor in town,” The Kid said. “We’ll have him take a look at your hand and see what he can do for you.”

A couple of townsmen carrying rifles stepped in from the boardwalk. “Is it all over in here?” one of them asked.

“Yeah,” Brady replied as Bonham tied a rag around his bloody thigh. “What about out there?”

The man nodded. “We got ’em all, except for a couple who grabbed horses and lit a shuck when they realized they’d run into an ambush.”

The Kid knew that two fleeing hardcases wouldn’t cause any trouble. The men probably wouldn’t stop running until they were a long way from Gehenna.

Haggarty loomed over Bledsoe’s unconscious form. He shook his head.

“It’s still hard to believe, but that’s him, all right. We’ll tie him up and find a secure place to keep him until we’re ready to head back.”

“Who the hell are you?” Drake asked.

“Name’s Haggarty,” the bounty hunter said. “I’m taking you and Bledsoe back to Hell Gate, Drake.”

Drake looked over at The Kid. “Morgan?”

“Sorry, Drake. I appreciate your help, but it’s out of my hands. I made a deal with Haggarty.”

“You made a deal with me, too, damn it.”

“And I kept it,” The Kid snapped. “We found Bledsoe. I couldn’t do anything about how things played out after that.”

Haggarty nodded toward Dakota Pete. “How about this big fella?”

“You have any paper on him?” The Kid asked.

Haggarty thought about it and then shook his head. “No, not that I recall.”

“Then you don’t have any claim on him.”

Haggarty shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ve got Bledsoe and Drake. That’ll be a nice payoff.”

Supported by the blacksmith, Brady limped over to the table. “You need us for anything else, Morgan?”

“No, I don’t suppose so.”

“Good. We got a town to clean up, now that it belongs to its real owners again.”

An hour later, The Kid stood on the boardwalk in front of the saloon and looked up and down Gehenna’s single street. Everything looked quiet and peaceful. The bodies of the dead gunmen had been hauled to the undertaker’s, along with the two townsmen who had been fatally shot in the battle. The wounded had been tended to by the harried town doctor. Bledsoe and Drake were locked in a windowless storeroom at the back of the saloon, and Dakota Pete stood guard outside the door. Haggarty clearly didn’t like not trying to collect a bounty on Pete as well, but for the time being, they had become allies.

A soft footstep behind The Kid made him turn. His hand started toward his gun, but he relaxed as he recognized Jillian Fletcher.

She moved up beside him. “It’s hard to believe this is all over,” she said. She stood close to The Kid, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body. “There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to go back to Hell Gate.”

“I know what you mean. I’d just as soon never see the place again.” The Kid smiled in the darkness. “But I am looking forward to the look on your father’s face when he sees me and Bledsoe and realizes he was wrong.”

“Don’t expect him to apologize. I know he’s my father, but…he’s not a very good man, I think.”

The Kid didn’t say anything. Whatever Jillian believed about Fletcher, she would have to come to terms with it on her own.

She went on, “I hope that on the way back, you and I can…get to know each other better.”

Both Rosarita and Aliciana had expressed similar sentiments a short time earlier when The Kid paid a visit to the whorehouse to make sure everything was all right there. He had turned them down as gently as possible, and he intended to do the same with Jillian. It was still too soon for him to get involved with another woman, whether it was just for their mutual, momentary pleasure, or something more.

When the time was right, if it ever was, he would know it.

For the time being, he gave Jillian a noncommittal, “We’ll see,” then went on, “You’d better go on over to the hotel and get some sleep. It’s been a long day and a longer night.”

“Yes, I know. It seems almost like a waste, since it’ll be light in a couple of hours—”

The sound of another footstep stopped her. Both of them turned to see that a man had come up behind them. The Kid tensed as a rifle came up in the man’s hands.

“Jillian, get away from him!” Jonas Fletcher ordered.
“Now!
”