Rimfire

by William W. Johnstone

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Clancy’s caution and skepticism about Ace’s loyalty had kept him on edge or some instinct warned him and he’d started to twist away from the blow. Even though Ace’s gun smashed into the side of Clancy’s skull, it didn’t knock the Australian out or even drive him off his feet.

  Clancy kept turning and tried to bring his revolver to bear on Ace, who brought the barrel of his gun cracking down on Clancy’s wrist. The gunman cried out in pain but held on to the gun. Haggarty surged up from the floor and tackled him from behind, sending Clancy forward to ram into Ace. All three men sprawled on the floor, but Ace was on the bottom and the hard landing jolted the air out of his lungs. For a second, his head swam dizzily as Haggarty and Clancy wrestled on top of him.

  They rolled a little to the side, and he heaved his body up to throw them off the rest of the way. He started to get up just in time to see one of Ling’s boots streaking toward his face as she launched a vicious kick.

  Ace jerked his head aside. The heel of Ling’s boot thudded into his left shoulder and knocked him off balance again. As he fell backwards, he reached out, grabbed her foot that was still in the air, and heaved. With a startled cry, she fell, too, and landed hard on her rear end.

  Thankfully, no shots had gone off yet. A gun blast would bring Whistler and Robertson racing into the house and up the stairs. Ace wanted Clancy taken care of before he had to deal with the other two killers.

  Haggarty was putting up a good fight—a better fight than Ace would have expected from a dandy and a gambler—but Clancy had him outclassed. The Australian’s fist slammed into Haggarty’s jaw and rocked his head back.

  An instant later, Clancy chopped at Haggarty’s head with the gun he held in his other hand and landed a glancing blow that opened up a deep cut on Haggarty’s temple. Blood welled from it and ran down the man’s face. The blow stunned him long enough for Clancy to hit him again. Haggarty sagged to the floor, limp and unconscious.

  On his hands and knees, Ace pushed off with his feet and came up in a diving tackle that sent him flying toward Clancy. He planted a shoulder in the man’s back and carried him forward. Clancy toppled toward the safe. His head struck the door with a resounding thud and bounced back.

  Clancy crumpled and landed facedown on the floor, out cold, if not worse.

  Ace got up on his knees and remained there for a moment, breathing heavily. He was about to get to his feet when he felt the touch of a razor-sharp blade against his throat.

  “Stay where you are,” warned Ling. “I don’t want to slit your throat, Ace, but I will if I have to.”

  Ace froze in place. Ling’s deft pressure on the knife made the blade barely break the skin, but he knew it wouldn’t take much to open up his throat and slice through his veins and arteries. Death would be swift after that.

  “That’s good,” Ling said softly. “I had the idea that you were the smarter of the brothers. That’s why we made sure that Chance wound up winning me.”

  Haggarty groaned and began stirring around.

  Ling nudged him with a foot. “Jack! Jack, are you all right?”

  Haggarty blinked his eyes open, sat up shakily, and used his hand to wipe blood from his face. “Damn!” he exclaimed. “Am I killed?”

  “Don’t be a fool,” Ling told him. “That man hit you on the head and opened up a cut. You know head wounds always bleed so much they look worse than they really are.”

  “Yeah, I guess. Feels like somebody’s banging a drum inside my skull, though.” He looked over at Clancy’s senseless form. “Who in blazes . . . ?”

  “Don’t you remember him? He works for Leo Belmont, you said so yourself a few minutes ago. His name is . . . Clancy. That’s it. Just Clancy. One of those damn, dirty Australians. The vigilantes should have cleaned them all out of San Francisco thirty years ago when they had the chance.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Haggarty said, sounding irritated. “I just got hit in the head and knocked out. I’m a little addled. But I remember Belmont, that’s for sure.” Haggarty chuckled. “One of the best jobs we ever pulled.”

  “Belmont must not have thought so, if he sent Clancy all this way after us.” Ling looked down at Ace and added, “What I don’t understand is what this boy is doing here.”

  “Take that knife away from my throat and I’ll explain,” Ace said tightly, trying not to let his Adam’s apple move too much. “You’d better listen to me. Clancy didn’t come here alone.”

  Ling hesitated, but only for a moment. She lifted the knife and took a step back. “Don’t try anything. I’m quicker than you.”

  “And so am I,” said Haggarty as he scooped up Clancy’s fallen gun and pointed it at Ace. “Drop that Colt.”

  Ace set the revolver on the floor.

  “Slide it back to me,” ordered Ling.

  He did so, then asked wearily, “Is it all right if I stand up now?” He heard Ling pick up the gun.

  She nodded. “All right. No tricks.”

  Ace climbed to his feet while Haggarty did likewise. The gambler managed to get up without ever letting the gun barrel budge from being pointed in Ace’s direction.

  Once he was upright again, Ace said, “There are two more of Belmont’s men downstairs, standing guard just outside the house. Belmont didn’t just send them after you, though. He came himself. He’s in Rimfire tonight, meeting with Angus McPhee.”

  Ling’s carefully controlled exterior was shaken. “Belmont’s in the settlement?”

  “With about a dozen more men,” said Ace. “He’s the one who sent the note that lured McPhee into town.”

  “We’d better think about packing up and getting out of here,” Haggarty said to Ling. “I’ve heard plenty of stories about Belmont and the men who work for him.” A little shudder went through him. “Some of them are lunatics, if you can believe even half the things that are said about them.”

  “We knew that when we targeted him in the first place. The risk was worth it.”

  “Maybe at the time.” Haggarty shrugged. “Now I’d just as soon forget about whatever might be in McPhee’s safe and put some distance between us and Belmont.”

  She glared at him “For God’s sake, Jack, have you lost all your nerve? I’ll cover Jensen. You go back to seeing if you can get that safe open.”

  “The way my head is spinning and ringing from being pistol-whipped, you expect me to be able to hear those tumblers ticking over?” Haggarty shook his head. “It doesn’t matter if we have all night. I won’t be getting this safe open anytime soon, Ling.”

  She stared at him, clearly angry and impatient, but after a few seconds she heaved a sigh of resignation. “All right, but you know how I hate leaving money behind. I suppose it’s better to give it up, though, than to let Belmont catch us.”

  The past few minutes had been very educational for Ace. Every assumption that Leo Belmont had made about Haggarty and Ling appeared to be wrong. Ace had made some of those same assumptions himself.

  But now he knew the truth. Ling was the leader of the duo. She was probably the mastermind who decided who they would go after and how they would do it, too.

  “It’s not going to be as easy as just saddling up and riding away,” he told her. “Don’t forget, there are two more of Belmont’s men downstairs. And I’ll bet they’re getting pretty restless by now, wondering what’s taking Clancy and me so long.”

  “Men don’t scare me,” Ling said with a disdainful sneer.

  “Those two ought to.”

  Haggarty said, “You’d better listen to him, my dear. I don’t really understand why, given our history with him and his brother, but I’m starting to think the young man actually wants to help us.”

  “I don’t want to see anybody go through what Belmont has planned for you, even a couple thieves,” said Ace. “I’ll help you, all right.”

  Ling squinted at him. “But you want something in return.”

  Ace nodded. “Our two thousand dollars.”

>   Ling’s lips drew back from her teeth in a snarl. “No!” she spat. “Once I take money from a mark, I never give it back!”

  “You probably still have some of the loot you got from Belmont. Just think of it as giving me some of that money, instead,” Ace suggested.

  Ling scowled at him for a moment, then demanded, “You think you’re so damn smart, don’t you?”

  “No, but I’m stubborn. And I can help you get past Belmont’s men, if you’re willing to work with me.”

  Haggarty had taken a handkerchief from his pocket and was tying it around his head to stanch the bleeding from the cut. As he finished, he laughed. “You have to admit, there’s more to the boy than you thought there was. I didn’t expect him to be quite such a hardcase, either.”

  Ling regarded him coolly and asked, “If I agree about the two grand, what are you going to do in return?”

  “I’ll go downstairs and tell Whistler and Robertson—those are Belmont’s men—that we’ve captured the two of you but that we need help with you.”

  “Are they going to believe that?”

  Ace smiled. “I reckon they’ll believe it if I tell them you’d gotten McPhee’s safe open just before we nabbed you, and we’re going to split up the money.”

  Haggarty said, “You can never go wrong appealing to a man’s greed. Or his lust. We’ve learned those things, haven’t we, my dear?”

  “Shut up.” Ling nodded to Ace. “All right. We’ll give your plan a try.”

  “I’ll need my gun back,” he pointed out. “If I show up down there with an empty holster, it’s going to make them suspicious.”

  With a practiced ease that told him she had handled many weapons, Ling opened the Colt’s loading gate and shook out the cartridges one by one. Then she snapped it closed and handed the revolver to him. “I know you have more bullets, but at least this way you can’t double-cross us until you’re out of the room, anyway.”

  Ace pouched the iron. “I don’t intend to double-cross anybody except Belmont and his bunch, and I reckon they’ve got it coming. Now, about that two thousand . . .”

  Ling sighed then snapped at Haggarty. “Give him the money.”

  One-handed because he was still holding Clancy’s gun, Haggarty reached inside his shirt and started fumbling with a money belt around his waist.

  Ace asked, “Is that my brother’s money belt?”

  “As a matter of fact, it is,” Haggarty said. “Do you want it back, too?”

  “No, that’s all right. Just the two thousand.” Chance could always get another money belt, thought Ace, and they were running out of time.

  Haggarty took a wad of greenbacks from the belt, riffled through them, and stuffed some of them back. “I appreciate you not holding us up for more,” he said as he handed the bills to Ace.

  “For God’s sake!” Ling exclaimed. “Do you have to be so damn genial, Jack?”

  “It’s my nature,” Haggarty replied with a smile.

  “And I’m not a thief,” said Ace as he stuffed the money in his shirt. “We just wanted what’s rightfully ours. Now that I’ve got it, I don’t mind helping you two get away.” He paused. “You realize, though, Belmont’s probably not going to give up. In fact, I reckon you can count on that. Once he realizes you’ve escaped, he’ll just come after you again. He won’t care how long it takes or how many detectives he has to hire.”

  “We’ll take our chances,” said Ling confidently.

  “I’ve been thinking that Mexico sounds nice,” added Haggarty. “There are places down there where a man can disappear and never be found. And I’m not talking about a Mexican prison, either.”

  Ace nodded toward Clancy, who was still unconscious.

  “You’d better tie him up while you still can. You don’t want him coming to while we’re trying to get out of here. That would be a complication you don’t need.”

  “You’re right.” Haggarty bent to the task while Ace went to the door.

  Ling met him there and said quietly, “If you try any tricks, it won’t matter if you get away. Betray us and I’ll hunt you down and make you wish you’d never been born.”

  “Don’t worry. I want to put those hombres out of action just as much as you do.” He stepped out into the hall.

  Ling eased the door almost closed behind him, leaving it open just enough to provide sufficient light for him to see where he was going. As he walked toward the stairs, he took cartridges from the loops on the shell belt and clicked them one by one into the Colt’s chambers. When the cylinder was full, he slid the revolver back into leather.

  He didn’t have to be as quiet going downstairs as when he and Clancy had crept up, but he tried not to make much noise anyway. When he reached the first floor he ghosted across the foyer and noiselessly opened the front door.

  “Whistler!” he called in a half-whisper as he stepped onto the porch. “Robertson!”

  * * *

  Way too many minutes dragged by. Chance worried about spiders crawling on him or some snake slithering along and bumping into him. Whatever Ace was up to, he wished his brother would go ahead and—

  He stiffened as he heard Ace’s voice calling softly to the men on the porch.

  * * *

  Two shadowy shapes appeared, one at each end of the porch, and moved toward Ace.

  “Jensen?” Whistler asked. “Is that you? Where’s Clancy?”

  “Upstairs with Haggarty and the girl,” Ace replied as he jerked his head toward the staircase. “He sent me to get the two of you.”

  “What for?” asked Robertson, sounding suspicious. “Can’t you handle a couple prisoners?”

  “It’s not that,” Ace said. “Haggarty was able to get McPhee’s safe open. There’s a pile of loot in it, and he figured the right thing to do would be to cut you boys in on it.”

  “Is that so?” Robertson said, sounding interested. He started toward the door.

  “Wait just a damn minute,” Whistler said sharply. “I’ve known Clancy for a long time. That greedy owlhoot would have stuffed as much money in his pockets as he could and never said a word to anybody else if he didn’t have to.” His gun started to come up. “This kid’s lying!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  As the guard closest to him turned and walked toward the front door, Chance seized the opportunity to crawl closer. When he reached the end of the wall, he stood up silently and pressed his back against it, holding the Remington up close to his head as he edged forward to peer around the corner.

  Ace stood just outside the front door with the other two men. They were talking in low voices, when suddenly one man got louder and sounded angry. Chance could tell that trouble was imminent. With no warning it erupted elsewhere, namely inside the house. Several shots suddenly blasted out from upstairs, taking him and all three men on the porch by surprise.

  The time for stealth was over. He put his left hand on the porch and vaulted up onto it.

  At the sound of the shots, Whistler and Robertson both jerked toward the door. Ace didn’t know what was going on upstairs, but he could make a guess—Clancy had come to while Haggarty was tying him up and was putting up a fight or he’d been shamming and waiting for an opportunity to jump Haggarty.

  Either way, all hell was breaking loose, and Whistler and Robertson were both distracted. Ace knew he wouldn’t get a better chance to turn the tables on them.

  He whipped his gun out and fired at Whistler, knowing that with the racket from the house there was no need to worry about being quiet anymore.

  Whistler twisted aside and his own gun spouted flame. Ace felt the wind-rip of the bullet as it screamed past his ear. He triggered again, and the slug punched into Whistler’s chest and knocked him backwards. He hit the railing that ran along the front of the porch and flipped up and over it.

  Ace had taken too long to dispose of Whistler. He turned toward Robertson, expecting to feel the smash of a bullet from the man’s gun, but a shape came flying out of the shadows just as R
obertson pulled the trigger.

  The collision jolted Robertson’s arm upward, so the geyser of flame from the revolver’s muzzle pointed toward the porch roof. Ace heard a soggy thud, then Robertson pitched forward to land on his face.

  Chance stood over him, holding the Remington he had just used to knock Robertson out.

  Ace had seldom been so happy to see his brother. He would have liked to explain everything, but at that moment Whistler surged up from the ground in front of the porch. He had his left hand pressed to his chest where he was wounded, probably mortally, but he was still alive, and hatred gave him the strength to raise his gun and fire.

  The bullet whipped between Ace and Chance. They pivoted toward him. Shots roared from their guns at the same instant. The smashing force of the slugs lifted Whistler off his feet and threw him backwards. He landed in a limp sprawl of death from which he wouldn’t be getting up.

  “Come on!” Ace barked at Chance as he lunged toward the door. The guns had fallen silent inside, which was worrisome. Ace wanted to get up there to McPhee’s study and find out what had happened.

  Colt flame bloomed from the top of the stairs before Ace could reach the bottom of them. A slug chewed splinters from the banister. Ace jerked his gun up and would have returned the fire, but in the dim light he caught a glimpse of Ling struggling in Clancy’s grip as the man started down the stairs with her. His left arm was clamped around her waist like an iron bar, and the gun in his other hand swung from side to side and blared raucously as he charged toward the ground floor.

  Ace and Chance dived out of the line of fire, Ace going left, Chance going right. Ace hit the floor and rolled over, coming up on a knee with his Colt thrust out. He couldn’t risk a shot, though, as long as Clancy was using Ling as a human shield.

  Outside, men shouted, no doubt some of McPhee’s riders as the gunshots brought them hurrying out of the bunkhouse. As Clancy galloped between the Jensen brothers and out onto the porch, Ace heard one of them yell, “Hold your fire! He’s got that Chinese gal!”

  Clancy didn’t have to be cautious. He emptied his gun toward the ranch hands, scattering them as he ran along the porch and then leaped off.