by Bill Crider
"Don't hit Billy!" McGee shouted.
Bass threw open the door and fired off a round of shotgun pellets. One of them struck Ryan in the arm. He dug his heels into the horse's side, and they were off and running.
Ryan wasn't sure how much chance he had carrying double, and he wasn't even sure where he was going. It was something he'd have to work out later.
Lights were coming on all over town. People were rushing out of doors.
Ryan knew that there would be a posse formed almost at once. Not only that, but Kane would be after him even sooner. He urged the horse forward.
"I hope you're worth all this trouble, Billy," he said.
"What?" Billy yelled. His ears were still ringing, and he thought that everyone must be having the same difficulties in hearing that he was having. He still hadn't quite figured out what was going on.
He recognized Ryan now, though he hadn't at first, and he was pretty sure that he was involved in a jailbreak. He knew that there had been a lot of shooting, but he wasn't sure who had been shooting at whom. None of the buckshot had touched him.
There was a blazing lightning flash that lit up the entire sky and seemed to hang in the air for a full minute. Ryan risked a glance back over his shoulder.
He could see Barson, Long, and McGee pounding along after him. They weren't risking shots, however, thanks to the fact that Ryan's back was well protected by Billy.
They would catch him soon if he didn't do something. They were already gaining on him.
There was another lightning flash, and then the rain began to fall, the drops as big as five-dollar gold pieces and almost as hard. They stung Ryan's face under his hat. The drops were scattered at first; then suddenly it was as if the sky had opened and the water was pouring out in a solid wall.
The storm would hide him, even if it made riding more difficult. But for how long?
It was only then that Ryan realized he was heading in the direction of Shatter's Grove.
Chapter Eleven
The storm got worse.
Ryan was soaked through in seconds. The water was pouring out of the sky so fast that the dry ground couldn't soak it up fast enough; the bay was splashing through it already, as if wading a creek. The wind was so powerful that it seemed almost capable of pushing them backward.
The lightning continued to flash, but Ryan didn't look back again. He thought that if he could get to the grove, he could easily get away from the men who were following.
It was slow going, but finally they got there, the rain still flooding down around them. With the water cascading down from the brim of his hat, Ryan could barely see the dark forms of the trees.
He managed to indicate to Billy that he wanted him to get off the horse. Then Ryan slid off as well. He wanted to lead the horse in among the trees, knowing that it would be even darker and harder to see among them.
Ryan grabbed the reins, and Billy held to a stirrup. They could hear the rain smashing and rattling the leaves of the trees.
They were just about to enter the grove when with a tremendous crash a bolt of lightning struck an oak not twenty feet away from them.
The horse whinnied pitifully. The hair in her mane seemed to stand straight up. Ryan felt his own hair rising under his hat, and there was a peculiar tingling all over his skin.
The tree exploded with a loud C-R-R-A-A-A-C-K! that rivaled the sound of the dynamite used at the jail. There was a strange smell in the air, and the tree was burning, even in the streaming rain.
Ryan's hat lifted off his head and flew through the air. It had been jammed down so tight and so heavy from the rain that he knew the wind hadn't lifted it. He looked back just as one of Kane's men fired again.
Ryan didn't hear the shot that time, either. He led the horse on in among the trees, then walked around to Billy. "Are you all right?" he yelled.
Billy, still dazed and not quite sure of what was happening, nodded his head. "I guess so."
"Hang on to the horse, then," Ryan told him, handing him the reins. "I'll try to slow them down."
In truth, they weren't coming very fast. The wind, rain, and mud were slowing them very well already. The burning tree gave just enough light for Ryan to see them.
He drew his pistol and fired off two shots. He didn't hit anybody. Conditions were not exactly ideal for shooting. He wasn't even sure they knew he had fired.
He shot again.
One of the figures stiffened in the saddle and then slipped backward. He hit the ground with a splash, which Ryan couldn't hear.
The other two stopped. Ryan could see the flashes from their pistols, and a bullet thunked into the tree nearest him.
He fired back, then turned and motioned for Billy to follow him. They went deeper into the trees.
The rain was not as hard in there, the trees providing a minimal sort of shelter. Billy's mind spun as he tried to adjust to the situation.
He knew that he was with Ryan, but who was that after them? The law? But why would Ryan have engineered a jailbreak for him?
He thought about the explosion at the jail. He had been lying on his cot when things blew apart. He had been hurled across the cell, the cot landing on top of him and protecting him from the bricks that pelted down around him.
Then there had been a lot of shooting, men on horseback, and Ryan yelling at him. What the hell was going on?
Billy realized that he was very frightened. Even though he was not in the jail, facing the prospect of hanging, he was frightened.
Lying on his cot, he had been thinking about what it would be like the next day. There would be the crowd, all the faces watching him. His brother would be there, and everyone from the whole town.
He wondered how he would manage to get up the steps of the gallows. He was sure his knees wouldn't hold him up, yet it would be embarrassing to have someone support him.
He had decided he didn't care about the embarrassment. He was going to die, so why worry about dignity?
When he heard the thunder and saw the lightning from the tiny window of his cell, he had thought at first it might be good news for him. Maybe it would be raining so hard that they would call off the hanging. But he had never heard of anything like that happening, so he didn't count on it too much. Probably everyone would be there just the same, standing in the rain and getting drenched, but determined to see him hang.
It was appropriate, he thought. That was what it was. Appropriate. He wouldn't want to die on a sunny day so everyone could enjoy it and have a good time. At least they would be suffering just a little bit along with him. He almost had a tear in his eye, thinking about it.
He had felt sorry for himself before, but this was just about the worst he had ever felt. And that was when the walls exploded in on him.
Now here he was, hanging on to a horse in the middle of the worst flood he'd ever seen, wet and miserable as a drowned rat, and running from someone who was shooting at him.
And he was with Ryan, the man whose sister everybody thought he had killed. What if Ryan had brought him out here to punish him personally? Maybe torture him before he killed him, to get revenge?
Billy whimpered to himself, and in his cowardly way began to think about some way he could get the jump on Ryan, get him with his guard down.
He couldn't think of a thing, but at least he was out of the jail. He slogged on through the trees, mud sucking at his feet.
Kane arrived at the edge of the grove, furious. Raging.
McGee was down, shot in the shoulder this time. He didn't have any luck at all where Ryan was concerned. Or did he? He was still alive.
Barson and Long had dismounted to help McGee.
"What the hell is happening?" Kane ranted, his voice loud enough to carry over the sound of the rushing water. "Who is that with Billy? Goddammit, is that Ryan?"
"It's Ryan, all right," Barson said, lifting McGee up.
McGee's shoulder throbbed like fire, but he couldn't help thinking that the rain was a blessing. Barson was g
etting his first bath in years.
"We've got to find him," Kane said more calmly. "He'll bring Billy back in the morning for the hanging. We won't be able to stop them then."
"Maybe he wants to kill him," Long said, his thoughts paralleling Billy's own. "That might be why he took him."
"Either way, we've got to find them. Put McGee in the wagon. I've got to get out of here. There'll be a posse along any time now, as soon as they can get one together. The rain has slowed them down some, but they'll be along."
They got McGee into the wagon, and he lay down. He didn't mind the water washing over his face. It felt cool and good. The throbbing in his shoulder was matched by the throbbing in his missing finger. That damn Ryan had done it to him again.
"Don't come back without Billy," Kane said. "And kill Ryan. This time, kill him dead."
He turned the wagon and headed away, leaving Long and Barson standing in the rain.
"I don't want to go in there after him," Long said. "He's got the advantage on us. He'll know we're coming." Long's cruelty came out only when he was sure that he was in a strong position.
"Well, I don't see that we got any choice in the matter," Barson said. "Not if we're gonna stay around here.”
“One thing," Long said.
"What's that?"
"I say we don't make any distinction about who we're shootin' at."
"You mean even if we shoot Billy?"
"That's what I mean."
"Kane would have our hides."
"Not if we kill Ryan, too. Blame it on him. Say when we were gettin' close, he put a couple of rounds into Billy for spite. Who's gonna say it didn't happen that way?"
Barson's mind was as heavy as his body at times, but he got the idea. "Won't be anybody there but us," he said.
"Nobody but Ryan," Long said. "And he won't be tellin' anybody if we do our job right."
"Sure would make things easier," Barson said.
"We'll tie the horses out here. Make it easier in this dark and rain," Long said, satisfied that agreement had been reached.
"Good idea," Barson said.
They tied their reins at the edge of the grove, a good distance away from the burning tree, and went in after Ryan.
They weren't too worried about him.
They had caught him in there before.
Ryan's foot slipped in the mud. He lost his balance and started to go down, grabbing at the saddle to steady himself. It was the chance Billy had been waiting for. He swung his fist at Ryan's head, clubbing feebly at him.
Ryan was taken by surprise, and combined with his slippery footing Billy's right fist was enough to drive him off his feet. He went down heavily into the mud.
Billy, stunned by his own success, did not know exactly what to do. He had never escaped from anyone before.
He thought of going for Ryan's gun, but he had no desire to put himself in reach of Ryan's right hand. He thought of taking the horse, but realized that the animal would be more of a hindrance than a help.
Not knowing what else to do, he turned and ran back the way they had come, his boots slipping and sliding in the slick mud.
His mind was full of confused thoughts. He didn't know what he was running to, and he wasn't sure what he was running from. He wasn't even sure where he was. He knew only that he wanted to get away from Ryan and to stay away from the jail. The thought of going back to the jail and facing the gallows that had been built for him frightened him so badly that a sob ripped from his throat.
Wet tree branches lashed at his face, and he fell down twice, landing on his hands and knees. He tried to run, at the same time wiping his muddy hands on his pants.
Not watching carefully in the darkness, he ran into a tree. He howled in pain.
Long and Barson heard him. They weren't far away. "What d'you think?" Barson said.
"Somebody's hurt," Long said. Thinking about it made him feel good.
"I mean, you think it's a trick?"
Long was surprised. Barson usually didn't come up with an idea like that. "Maybe," he said. "We'll be careful."
The rain was not falling as hard now, but it was still making enough noise to cover their movements. They headed in the direction of the cry.
Soon they saw a figure staggering in their direction through the trees, arms swinging to ward off the branches. "That you, Billy?" Long said.
The figure stopped, its head swinging from one side to the other as if trying to see who had spoken.
"Billy?" Long said again. He already had his pistol out.
"Who's there?" Billy said.
"Me and Mack," Long said. "Just stay there. We'll get you." He nudged Barson with an elbow.
"All right," Barson said.
They both opened fire.
A bullet sang through the leaves by Billy's head. Another splatted into the mud at his feet.
Billy just stood there as if his feet had rooted in the mud.
They fired again.
This time one of them got closer. The bullet ripped through Billy's shirt and singed along his side.
"Y-E-E-E-O-W!" Billy howled. He turned and ran back toward Ryan.
Barson and Long went after him.
Ryan heard the shots, knew what they must mean. He was standing by his horse, debating with himself about whether to go back after Billy or leave him to whatever fate there was in the woods that night. He had done what he could, gotten Billy out of the jail unhurt and with only one of the lawmen hurt. And maybe that one wasn't dead.
He'd kept Billy away from Kane, too, mainly because he had decided he might be able to learn something from Billy, something that hadn't come out at the trial perhaps, something that might give Ryan an idea of who the real murderer of his sister might be.
But Billy was scared and treacherous. Helping him didn't seem worth the effort if he was going to try to escape at the first opportunity. He wouldn't tell Ryan anything if he didn't trust him.
Why not just let him go? Let Kane have him, or the law. What did it matter, anyway?
The shots changed Ryan's thinking, however.
Billy didn't have a gun, so whoever was shooting at him wasn't interested in seeing him hang. Either Kane or the law was going to finish things right now, and Ryan knew the law hadn't gotten there that fast. Billy's own people were after him now. Ryan hadn't thought even Kane would do something that bad. He would help Billy one more time.
He left the horse and started in the direction of the shots. He hadn't gone far when he heard someone crashing through the trees.
Ryan was in a small clearing, and he stepped aside to see who was coming.
Billy came flying through the brush and fell sprawling into the clearing, sliding for several feet on his stomach and face. He got up and began to wipe the mud from his eyes.
Ryan could hear his pursuers then. He stepped out beside Billy.
Barson and Long came racing into the opening, guns drawn. They tried to stop when they saw a second dark figure beside Billy, but they were going too fast, and the ground was too slick. Barson was leaning backward, his arms pinwheeling, trying to find a purchase with his boot heels. Long, on the other hand, was falling forward, bent almost double, flailing his arms to keep his balance.
Ryan could have shot one of them, but he hesitated. It wasn't in his nature to shoot a helpless man. Even if Long or Barson either one would have shot him as casually as they would have shot a rattler.
Before Ryan could decide how to react, Long crashed into him. They went down in the mud together at just about the same moment that Barson ran into Billy.
The four men found themselves grappling in the mud. All of them had dropped their guns, and they were hitting and clawing with their hands.
Ryan, with only one hand to use, was at a serious disadvantage, especially since Long was on top of him; but they were slick from the mud and Ryan was able to keep twisting his body, not allowing Long to get a good grip.
Long swung wildly at Ryan's face, getting in a glancing blow
off Ryan's cheekbone. Then he got one hand into Ryan's hair—Ryan had no idea where his hat had gone—and began gouging at Ryan's eyes with the other hand.
Ryan slid his good right hand up between his and Long's chests. It was a job made easier by the slimy mud. He got his hand over Long's face and began to push upward with all his strength. He could feel Long's mouth opening and closing.
Long finally let go of Ryan's hair and started to pull Ryan's arm.
Ryan pushed upward, steadily.
Long grabbed the arm with both hands. At that instant Ryan heaved the trunk of his body upward and threw Long over his head. Long released his grip and hit the mud on his back.
Ryan felt around for his pistol and found it. At least he hoped it was his. There was not a chance he would shoot it now. The barrel might be filled with mud. He could, however, use it as a club.
Barson was sitting on Billy Kane's back, holding Billy's face down in the mud with both hands pressed against the back of Billy's skull.
Ryan walked over and hit Barson on the side of the head as hard as he could with the butt of his pistol.
Barson pitched sideways without a word.
Ryan pulled Billy's head up by the hair. Billy was choking and sputtering, spitting mud, but he was all right. Ryan got him to his feet, steadying him as they stood together.
Ryan turned his eyes from Billy to see Long charging them. He pulled back his right arm and waited. Just when Long arrived, Ryan drove his right fist, the fist holding the gun, into Long's face.
Ryan felt bone break and cartilage pop.
Long seemed almost to hang motionless for a second; then he fell like a plumb bob, making a loud splat in the mud.
Ryan looked around, trying to orient himself. It wasn't easy in the darkness. The rain had picked back up and was rattling through the trees with a sound like a Gatling gun.
Ryan took hold of Billy's arm and began pulling him through the trees. He stopped and picked up a sodden blob. His hat, he thought. He jammed it on his head, and watery mud ran down his face and neck.
He didn't bother to look back at Barson and Long. They wouldn't be following for a while.