by Brett Waring
He said nothing, feeling the strands of the iron hard rope parting one by one. Then suddenly the ropes fell free of his wrists. Very slowly and carefully, he began to massage his hands and fingers, trying desperately to increase the blood circulation.
There was a faint movement behind him in the dark but he didn’t turn around. He swiveled his eyes past the dozing Wyatt to where the girl lay. He heard a muffled sort of gasp from her as if a hand had clamped across her mouth. Then he saw the big shape crouched behind her—and heard the slight sounds of the knife sawing through the ropes.
Then the hulking shape came towards him again and something heavy and limp was placed in his lap. His gun rig. He turned his head.
“You must be gettin’ soft, Cody,” he whispered.
“Nope. Can’t open the combination lock on the strongbox,” Cody Mann whispered back. “Figured you might know it.”
Nash grinned. Cody wasn’t fooling him. The man had come to repay his debt ...
Some feeling had returned to his hands and wrists and he got slowly to his knees and buckled on his gun rig, tying down the base of the holster with its rawhide thong. The girl sat up slowly, looking apprehensively towards Wyatt who was still slumped by the fire.
Cody signaled to her to crawl backwards into the deeper shadows and she did so warily, her gaze going to the sleeping form of Harley Pepper. Even in the dim light Nash could see the naked fear on her face. Nash began to work his way back, too, and Cody said very quietly:
“Best tell you: your Colt ain’t loaded. Figured I’d better test your mood first.”
Nash shook his head slowly: that damn Cody! He pulled out the Colt and began to thumb cartridges from his belt.
As he did so, Liz stumbled and fell and cried out involuntarily.
Wyatt was instantly awake. He reared up, throwing his blanket aside and whirling towards the prisoners. His rifle came round as he shouted a warning. The other three outlaws rolled out of their blankets—and Nash cursed. He had only two cartridges in his Colt.
Wyatt’s rifle boomed and Liz screamed as the lead jerked her hat from her head. Pepper rolled to one knee, fanning his six-gun, and Nash dropped flat, dragging the shaking girl with him. Tyler and Brewer were running forward with guns blazing.
Then big Cody Mann reared up with the butt of Nash’s heavy caliber .44/.40 rifle braced into his hip, levering and triggering as he ran forward.
Red Tyler spun away, clawing at his shoulder. Trace Wyatt lifted clear off the ground and spread-eagled on the sand—one leg in the campfire. But he was already dead.
Cody spun and fired at Pepper who dropped, spun over and brought up his second six-gun, triggering. Cody staggered and one leg folded under him but he kept on firing with the big rifle. Then Billy Brewer launched himself in a headlong dive, his Colt thrust ahead of him, the muzzle blazing.
Cody staggered and at the same time the rifle hammer clicked on an empty chamber ...
With a mighty roar, he lunged to his feet and, dragging his left leg, charged forward, swinging the big rifle by the barrel. The brassbound butt glittered in a brief arc and smashed into the middle of Billy Brewer’s face, almost tearing the man’s head from his shoulders.
There was little doubt he was dead before his twitching body hit the ground ...
Harley Pepper leapt up and dived to one side, putting another bullet into Cody—and the big man sagged to his knees.
Then, at last, Nash had his Colt loaded.
“Watch it,” yelled the wounded Tyler, bringing up his gun.
Nash whirled and triggered twice, both bullets catching the redhead in the heart and slamming him backwards.
Lead burned across Nash’s left forearm and he staggered, dropped to one knee and began to chop at the gun hammer. He knew fanning the weapon close range would be mighty effective.
Shot after shot hammered out and Harley Pepper staggered and jerked, blood gushing out of his mouth as the last shot took him in the neck. Liz covered her face with her hands at the gruesome sight as Pepper collapsed with a choking scream.
Nash stood up, his ears ringing from the thunder of the gunfight and helped the shaking girl to her feet. Together they went to Cody Mann and knelt beside him.
The big man was barely alive as his eyes went to the girl’s pale face.
“I ... I found it, Liz. It ... it’s all there. Tons of loot. Y-you an’ Cress’ll get a—mighty big—reward ... Cathedral’s—’b-’bout ten miles due north ... Sun-up’s best time to see it ...” He flicked his rapidly glazing eyes to Nash, and even tried to grin, but he started to cough. “Y-you’re okay—N-Nash for a—a ...”
He slumped in death and Liz began to shake with sobs.
Nash slipped an arm about her shoulders as he helped her to her feet. The knee of his trousers was wet but as he looked down, he saw that it wasn’t mud as he had first thought.
It was Cody Mann’s blood.
About the Author
Keith Hetherington
aka Kirk Hamilton, Brett Waring and Hank J. Kirby
Australian writer Keith has worked as television scriptwriter on such Australian TV shows as Homicide, Matlock Police, Division 4, Solo One, The Box, The Spoiler and Chopper Squad.
“I always liked writing little vignettes, trying to describe the action sequences I saw in a film or the Saturday Afternoon Serial at local cinemas,” remembers Keith Hetherington, better-known to Piccadilly Publishing readers as Hank J. Kirby, author of the Bronco Madigan series.
Keith went on to pen hundreds of westerns (the figure varies between 600 and 1000) under the names Kirk Hamilton (including the legendary Bannerman the Enforcer series) and Clay Nash as Brett Waring. Keith also worked as a journalist for the Queensland Health Education Council, writing weekly articles for newspapers on health subjects and radio plays dramatizing same.
More on Keith Hetherington
The Clay Nash Series by Brett Waring
Undercover Gun
A Gun Is Waiting
Long Trail to Yuma
Reckoning at Rimrock
Last Stage to Shiloh
Slaughter Trail
Sundown in Socorro
The Fargo Code
Ride for Texas
Bullet by Bullet
The Santa Fe Run
This Lawless Land
Guns on Big River
Compadre
Sundance
Escape to Gunsight
Ride the Stage to Hangman’s Spur
Only a Bullet
Law of the Bullet
Noon at Shiloh
The Blood of Cody Mann
… And more to come every other month!
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