He got to his feet, brushing aside the hands outstretched to detain him. Hennesey swung round as he reached the bar.
‘Johnnie, you oughtn’t to be on your feet.’
‘I’m OK. That looks like my Colt you’ve got in your hand.’
‘It’s yours, all right. Someone used it to fire the shot that killed Donovan.’
‘Used that! It wouldn’t shoot when I tried it. Anyway, I guess maybe I ought to be thankful to whoever fired it.’
‘Feller deserves a medal,’ a man observed.
‘Or a rope around his neck,’ Hennesey snapped. ‘Anyone thought about who was doing best when the shot was fired? In any case it was plain murder.’
Sam Stevens pushed towards Hennesey. ‘Ed, I wasn’t going to say a word about what I saw, but you’ve got me thinking the shot wasn’t intended for Donovan. I saw Bohun stoop and pick up a gun. It could have been that one. I don’t know, I didn’t see him use it.’
‘We’ll ask—’ Hennesey began, but the rest of his words were drowned in an uproar of shouts to get Bohun and hang him.
In the concerted rush towards the batwings a voice yelled: ‘Let’s tar and feather him an’ ride him on a rail. He’s too darned heavy for a rope.’
Hennesey made a move to stop the ringleaders, but dozens of hands fended him roughly off and the yells to tar and feather Bohun outdid those in favour of hanging him.
Hennesey stood irresolute as the men poured into the street. He looked at Stevens as if for guidance or help, but Sam shook his head.
‘You’ll have to let them have their way, Ed. If you go out with a gun in your hand, you’ll have to use it. Bohun isn’t worth a lot of dead men. In any case, they aren’t set on hanging him.’
‘Ever seen a man tarred and feathered?’ Hennesey asked grimly.
‘No, I don’t reckon I have.’
‘It’s worse than a hanging and usually the guy doesn’t live to get over it.’
Johnnie’s eyes went from one to the other. ‘Then we’ve got to stop it.’
‘How?’ Hennesey snapped the word.
Johnnie grinned at him. ‘I’ve been learnin’ a feller can fight better without a gun than he can with one. Most guys won’t draw on a feller who hasn’t a gun. They won’t lay hands on an injured man either.’
‘They’ve got Bohun,’ Sam cut in as a yell of triumph sounded from the street.
Johnnie moved towards the batwings. ‘You fellers keep yourselves an’ your guns out of sight,’ he flung over his shoulder.
‘I’m taking that order,’ Hennesey growled to Stevens. ‘The feller’s a sight better man than I ever was, but just the same, a couple of rifles near the batwings might be handy.’
Belle, Carter and Seth Callum came hurrying forward.
‘What’s Johnnie up to now?’ Belle demanded.
‘Bring what rifles you have,’ Hennesey snapped back, then to Seth Callum he said quietly: ‘Seth, somehow you’ve raised a son who is a bigger man than any one of us in the town. Any two for that matter.’
In the street, Johnnie saw the mob collected outside the store. Bohun was head and shoulders above the crowd and even at this distance the abject fear on the man’s face was distinguishable. Johnnie moved slowly up the street. He ached almost everywhere and the wound in his shoulder burned furiously. He reached the fringe of the crowd and a dozen voices shouted for a way to be cleared for him. He got to Bohun’s side and saw the condition of the man. Already his clothing was torn to shreds and his face clawed and bleeding. He was astride and lashed to a fence rail held by half-a-dozen men. One of them grinned at him.
‘Come to see the fun, Johnnie?’
‘You could call it that, I guess.’ Johnnie turned to a man who had been hammering in the top of a small barrel. ‘What’s in that?’
‘Tar, Johnnie. Tar, to pour over the judge. Someone’s gone to collect hen feathers. When they come we’ll pour the lot over Bohun then ride him round the town on the rail before we throws him out. Everyone will be hurrahin’ an’ yellin’ like mad. Be good fun for you to watch, Johnnie.’
‘I’d as soon see him kickin’ on the end of a rope an’ I don’t think that’s fun either.’
The man got up from his crouch over the barrel. ‘You mean to say you don’t want nothin’ done to this louse of a judge?’
‘I mean I don’t want anythin’ like that done. In fact, if my shoulder weren’t half busted, I’d lam into the feller who thought of the idea.’
‘Well, I’ll be doggone. Lookit here, Johnnie—’
‘No. You listen to me.’ Johnnie knew that in arguing with this one man he was arguing with the whole crowd of men. ‘It seems to me that this town ain’t got much gratitude. You was all wantin’ Donovan put out of the way but none of you had the sand to go after him. One way or another, I fixed him an’ I’d have killed him without Bohun hornin’ in. I guess you know that.’
‘Sure we do, but Bohun was trying to kill you.’
‘Then I reckon I ought to have a say in what’s to be done with him.’
‘I reckon this town owes you that much, Johnnie,’ a voice called out.
Johnnie’s glance travelled over the whole of the crowd. He saw sheepishness, indifference, and on only a few faces, resentment.
‘Lend me your knife, will you?’ he said to the man beside the barrel.
The knife was handed over without a word. Johnnie made two quick slashes at the judge’s bonds then said in a harsh voice:
‘Get out of town and don’t ever come back.’
‘Some things from my house, Johnnie,’ Bohun pleaded.
‘You’ve got your life. That’s more than you deserve. Be thankful.’
He watched a lane open in the crowd and the ragged, waddling figure of the judge pass down it, then he turned and on limbs that would scarcely support him, walked back to the Silver Dollar. Inside, he grinned faintly at his friends then looked directly at Belle.
‘I ain’t had time to ask until now, Belle. How’s Lucy?’
‘Doing grand, Johnnie. The fever’s left her. You’d better get into bed before it gets you.’
‘Sure, I reckon I could sleep for a month.’ He turned to his father. ‘Paw, we’ll get to know each other after I’ve had some sleep.’
‘Sure, son. We’ve plenty of time, now.’
‘The third room on the right, Johnnie,’ Belle said crisply. ‘Think you can make those stairs?’
‘For a real bed I could make a hundred stairs.’
They watched him drag himself slowly up the stairs, then Carter said:
‘So Donovan’s empire is finally smashed. I wonder what will happen to his stuff?’
Hennesey shrugged. ‘I’ll have his house locked up in case there are any relatives, but the range beef will have to look after itself.’
‘Hmm. That’ll mean thousands of mavericks next spring. A darn good chance for anyone aimin’ to start a herd,’ said Stevens.
‘That’d be a chance for Johnnie an’ me,’ Seth Callum put in eagerly.
Belle grinned. ‘Don’t you count on Johnnie being your second string, Paw Callum. I bet he’ll start a herd all right, and I guess he’ll let you work with him, but it’ll be Mr and Mrs. Johnnie Callum’s herd. You can bet on that.’
‘Who is Johnnie figuring on marrying?’ Hennesey asked in surprise.
‘Johnnie isn’t figuring it at all. I guess the notion hasn’t entered his head. But it’s in Lucy’s all right, and that’ll be good enough for both of them.’
Sam grinned at Seth. ‘I guess you’d better come and fit in at my place. We wouldn’t want to get in the way of Mr and Mrs Johnnie.’
By the same author
Two Gun Marshal
Copyright
© John Saunders 2009
First published in Great Britain 2009
This edition 2011
ISBN 978 0 7090 9417 3 (ebook)
ISBN 978 0 7090 9418 0 (mobi)
ISBN 978 0 7090 9419 7 (pdf)
&
nbsp; ISBN 978 0 7090 8792 2 (print)
Robert Hale Limited
Clerkenwell House
Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
www.halebooks.com
The right of John Saunders to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
A Colt for the Kid Page 15