by Tony Masero
Belle shuddered a sigh and set down the lamp on a side table. ‘It can’t be, Kirby. You know that. I…. I’m lost in that respect. I can’t….’ she faltered. ‘I don’t seem to be able to any more.’
He stayed sitting on the bed and faced her across the room. ‘You know he was set up, don’t you?’
‘Who was? What do you mean?’
‘Your old beau, the gambling man. He was bought and paid for by Joe Bellows. They wanted you out of The-Get-Up-and-Go. He was sent in here to win your heart and carry you out.’
‘No!’ she gasped. ‘Don’t say such a thing. It’s not true, none of it.’
‘It is, Belle. You won’t believe me, I know that but I’ll prove it to you if you want.’
She hurried to the door, ‘No, I won’t hear such things. Aloysius was a kind loving man,’ a sob caught in her throat. ‘You’re my friend Kirby; don’t ruin it by saying this. I know you care for me but using slander to win me, it won’t work. I know what Aloysius was, he was a special person, a wonderful man and I loved him with everything I had.’
‘I know that too,’ Kirby said quickly, before she could turn the handle on the door. ‘And it does you credit that you could care so for a man. God Almighty, I wish it were me you felt for like that. But what I say is true and I don’t say it out of any spite or malice. That’s how it was and you spent all that precious love you felt on a two-bit scoundrel and I’m real sorry for it.’
‘Damn you, Kirby!’ she shouted, tears falling on her cheek. ‘I won’t hear another word.’ She ripped open the door ferociously and her eyes widened as she saw the thick smoke drifting along the corridor outside.
Chapter Eight
‘Fire!’
The shout came from down the hall as one of the barmen rushed into sight dressed only in his nightgown.
‘We’re a-blaze!’ he called, wide-eyed as he spotted Belle standing frozen in the corridor.
The strong smell of blistering varnish and paint came up the stairs from below. They could hear the roar now as the fire took hold on the dry boards in the barroom.
Kirby dressed himself quickly in pants and shirt and wrapped his gun belt around his waist.
‘Belle!’ he called. ‘The back stairs, get to the back stairs.’
There were screams of terror as the bar girls and a couple of their clients ran past in panic and Belle called after then, trying to calm them and command the staff into some sort of order.
Lomas was there at his door, a long barreled pistol in his hand.
‘Come on, partner. We have to move,’ he called as Kirby shucked on his boots.
The two ran out into the corridor, at the far end Belle was ushering the girls and the other men out through a side door onto the landing that led to the street below.
Explosions were coming from barroom, the pop and crash as bottle exploded with the heat. The crackling roar was growing in volume and Kirby could see flares of light ascending the stairs from the bar below as plumes of white smoke billowed up. The dense smoke was full of the suffocating taint of burning curtains and it robbed the breath from the lungs.
Coughing, he and Lomas struggled through the choking haze to the landing and gulping gasps of fresh air they fled clattering down the stairs and into the alley below. They followed Belle and the others out into the Main Street and stared back at the raging exterior of The-Get-Up-and-Go.
A crowd was gathering and gaping in awe as the flames took hold. Windows began to crack and collapse in splinters and flames poured out of the broken glass and up over the front of the wooden building. The boom and crash from inside echoed the roiling flames and the crowd backed away as the heat intensified.
‘You smell it?’ asked Lomas.
Kirby nodded, ‘Kerosene.’
‘Someone lit you up a-purpose.’
‘Let me guess,’ said Kirby grimly.
‘Come on, folks!’ called Lomas. ‘Let’s get water on her before she spreads.’
A boom of sound came from the saloon and elements of the Cigar Apartment cascaded out into the street in a crash of sparks and wild flame as the oil lamps inside exploded and added to the chaos. There was no stopping it and Kirby watched in dismay as a fragile bucket chain started to heave water from a horse trough. There was little they could do against such an intense fire and he watched Belle as she strode amongst the bucket chain ordering water on adjoining buildings to at least attempt to hold back the spreading fire. Her hair was in disarray and soot smudged her cheek and yet still, to his eye, she was a bold and magnificent creature. It seemed to him that nothing could diminish her brave character.
The air was alive with black smoke and flying sparks, turning the night into an even blacker hole outside the glare, it was peopled by the flush of orange flame and flickering outlines as town’s folk dashed in to throw their buckets of water. There was shouting and ordering calls lost amongst the dreadful all-encompassing roaring noise of the fire.
Then Kirby saw them.
The two big, bearded men coming out of the darkness towards him along the street.
Malachi carried a long double-barreled shotgun and Cain a Springfield rifle. They came on steadily and with purpose. Their massive bodies as dark as the shadows they cast.
‘Kirby!’
It was Lomas giving him warning from where he stood on the sidewalk across from the fire.
‘I see them,’ answered Kirby, turning to face the two.
‘Langstrom!’ bawled Cain. ‘You there? We come for you.’
The crowd turned at the call and some backed away at sight of the brothers.
‘I’m here,’ Kirby answered, stepping into their path.
‘Pay back, Langstrom,’ said Cain. ‘For our little brother.’
‘You lit this fire?’ asked Kirby.
‘Don’t give no damn about no fire, it’s you we’ve got call on.’
Malachi lowered the shotgun and fired and the barrel flash was bright against the darkness. Kirby had already dropped to the ground and the shot whistled over him and he heard screams from the crowd behind as somebody took a hit.
Kirby had his pistol out and quickly he rolled on his side and gave answering fire.
Cain was leveling the rifle from his shoulder but he changed his mind as Kirby’s shell whistled past and clipped his shirt at the shoulder. Both brothers ducked sideways, making for the shadows on either side of the street.
Kirby heard Lomas’s gun roar as he rolled over and climbed to his feet. ‘Take the left,’ the Marshal called as he raced on up the boardwalk, his boots pounding on the timbers. ‘This one’s mine.’
The street was alive with light from the blazing saloon but beyond that the alleys and storefronts were dark places. The cross-alleyways above the saloon was were the brothers had run, one to each side of Main Street.
When Kirby reached the entrance to the alley, he heard Belle shouting his name but the sound of Malachi crashing through the alley pulled him on and he ignored her call. He glanced over at Lomas who was advancing along his side of the road, his smoking pistol held before him. Then, both men vanished into the shadows on either side as they followed heir prey.
There was some dim light coming from windows were folks had lit their lamps at sound of all the disturbance and by this Kirby moved steadily on.
A window opened as a night-capped head poked out. ‘What’s going on out here?’ called the sleepy tenant.
He was answered by a flash and roar of shotgun fire as Malachi let rip from down the alley. Kirby ducked sideways and heard the shot tear into wooden planking, splintering and cracking the wood.
The nightcap disappeared instantly.
Firing blind, Kirby let loose with a couple of shots just to keep Malachi busy as he moved on again. The alley doglegged ahead and Kirby guessed that was where Malachi would wait for him and he approached softly from the opposite side of the bend. He arrived and ducked down low coming around the corner fast, gun cocked and ready.
Nothing awaited h
im.
He swung his head around searching the darkness. The shadows loomed heavy here as the angle cut off any peripheral glow from the windows.
Then the shadows moved and a bulky shape slammed into him. The blow was hard and forceful and it sent Kirby flying. His gun flew from his grasp and a shot cracked out as it hit the ground, the bullet thudding uselessly into the earth.
Dimly Kirby heard heavy breath and the sound of a rumbling that imitated a chuckle of success.
‘Got you, dummy,’
Another blow struck that rocked Kirby’s head so hard he thought it was coming off his shoulder. Stars populated the inside of his eyelids and the next thing he knew was that dust was filling his mouth. He was lying face down in the alley and as he regained his senses he felt two large hands grasp him by the collar and gun belt and lift him bodily into the air. He was swung and sent flying into a rickety fence that walled one side of the alleyway. Ducking his head just in time he struck the old wood and the planks caved in as he hit, sending him sprawling over the fallen timbers.
He was in some kind of wood yard full of detritus, all kinds of waste timber lay around and as Kirby heard his opponent struggling to climb across the shattered fence after him he searched around for a weapon he might use. A hefty five-foot long pole-shaped branch of cut wood came into sight from a stacked heap and he grabbed it desperately as the rasping breath behind closed in on him.
Swinging wide, Kirby brought the pole around as he turned and was gratified by a wholesome thud of sound as he connected with the looming body of Malachi.
The big man grunted and hissed angrily at the stinging pain, Kirby saw him loose balance for a moment as he stumbled over the fallen planks. He whirled again, coming back from the other side and felt the pole connect again, this time high up on Malachi’s right arm. The wooden beam slid off the shoulder and carried on up, catching Malachi a smack on his ear. This blow evoked a howl of rage and the awesome figure leapt forward intending to grab Kirby bodily and hurl him to the ground.
Kirby aimed for the head of the oncoming figure and holding the pole firmly end-on he connected with Malachi’s face. The big man staggered back as the pole-end struck with a thump against the bony forehead.
Malachi was panting now, his breath rasping in his throat but he was far from done. His strength was immense and it was only his massive size that slowed him down.
‘You little rat,’ he spat. ‘I’m going to rip you apart.’
Kirby backed away, holding the cut pole before him as Malachi approached arms swinging loosely by his side. Kirby struck something behind him in the dark and almost lost his balance, he glanced around and saw that he was backing onto a chopping block. The bole of a large pine tree sat in the middle of a pile of split firewood and chippings and from the head of the block a single bladed axe protruded.
Throwing the pole like a spear at Malachi, Kirby grasped the axe handle.
Malachi brushed the oncoming pole aside easily with a swing of his arm and growled, lowering his head menacingly.
‘It’s time, asshole,’ he muttered.
Malachi was a black outline rising out of the darkness as Kirby swung the axe, sweeping it down from over his head. He aimed for the silhouette and struck it dead center at the head. The blade buried itself in the crown of Malachi’s head with an unpleasant crunching sound and a spray of blood and tissue exploded over Kirby. The giant of a man made a soft burble of complaint before falling forward like a felled tree.
He collapsed at Kirby’s feet and lay still. Kirby backed away and released a repressed gasp of relief.
His head buzzed noisily and his body ached from the blows he had received but only now was he conscious of any pain.
Recovering himself, Kirby wiped the bloody muck from his face and stepped over the body. He climbed back over the fallen fence and hunted around until he found his revolver. Then, still dizzy and at a lumbering pace he retraced his steps along the alley.
Shots were coming from the alleyway opposite and it sounded to Kirby like Lomas was still involved in a gun battle with the other Lemon brother. Glancing to the side as he crossed over, Kirby could see that the fire appeared to be coming under control. There were many more townsfolk at work with buckets and there was a definite lessening of flame visible.
Weaving a little as he recovered his senses, Kirby made it across and ducked into the shadowed alley opposite.
Flashes of gunfire lit the darkness and Kirby called out less Lomas mistook him for an enemy and fired on him.
‘Coming up behind,’ Kirby called. ‘It’s me, Lomas.’
‘About time,’ Lomas answered from behind the cover of a large water barrel. ‘Stupid ass is holed up in a dead end here. Come on in.’
Kirby scurried over to him as another shot came from the boxed-in Cain. He sunk down beside Lomas who glanced across at him.
‘Oh, boy,’ exclaimed Lomas seeing the blood glistening on Kirby’s face. ‘He sure cracked you one.’
‘Nope, that’s the brother’s, I split his head open with an axe.’
‘What, a bullet not good enough?’
‘Dropped my gun.’
‘Clumsy,’ observed Lomas as another slug caromed overhead, fired from the blackness in the high-walled alley end.
Both men fired in answer and a moment’s silence followed the shooting. Lomas sniffed. ‘I’m getting tired of this, we’re getting nowhere,’ he said. ‘What’s that fool’s name?’
‘Cain Lemon,’ Kirby answered.
‘Cain!’ shouted Lomas. ‘You hear me? We can go on like this all night, until we plug you and it’s all over. You want to quit now whilst you’re still living?’
‘Alright, alright. You’ve got me cold. I’m coming out.’
‘You throw your firearm out first. Then come on to us showing your hands plain to see. We’ve got two guns on you so don’t be stupid.’
‘Where’s my brother?’ Cain called.
‘Never mind about him, you just get on out here like I say.’
There was silence then the Springfield appeared out of the darkness and thumped to the dust. A moment later Cain stepped into the light, his arms raised high.
‘I ain’t armed. You see that?’ he called, a nervous strain in his voice. ‘Don’t you shoot me now.’
‘Come on, you ass. We’re not about to shoot unless you try something.’
Only the next morning in the early dawn light could they see the total effects of the fire. A black gaping hole was all that remained of the saloon and it smoldered where small flames still licked at the charred timbers. The burned out remains of Tim’s magnificent billboard lay on the ground before the building, the gold lacquer burnt away and only a shamrock corner and one black stockined leg of a dancing girl remaining visible.
Belle stood hangdog before it with Kirby alongside her.
‘That’s that, I guess,’ she said tiredly. ‘There’s nothing left. Everything I own went up in that fire.’
‘What about the bank? You got any cash in there?’
She nodded, ‘A few thousand, enough to keep me going a while.’
‘That’s something,’ he said, putting his arm around her shoulder.
She was a mess; her dress was torn and blackened with burn marks. Soot stains marked her face and arms and her golden hair was singed and hanging limp.
‘Come on,’ Kirby said. ‘Let’s get you down to the hotel. You can clean up there and when the store’s open I’ll buy you something to wear.’
She looked at him, ‘You don’t look so pretty yourself,’ she said, rubbing a grubby hand down his equally grubby unshaven face. ‘Is that blood on your jaw? Are you hurt, Kirby?’
‘No, it’s not mine. I just got my dome busted a bit but the other fellow ended up with a real splitting headache.’
‘Who was it? I heard some shooting but was too occupied to make out more than that.’
‘The Lemon brothers. I guess Bellows set them up. I reckon they were working in tandem; Bellow�
��s starts the fire to distract us whilst his boys come in and finish the job. They didn’t count on Lomas helping me out.’
‘You think Joe Bellows started this?’
Kirby sighed, ‘We could smell the kerosene. It didn’t start in any natural way. Come on,’ he said, ushering her towards the hotel. ‘No point in going over it now. We’re both done in.’
She stopped and stood rigid, resisting his pull and he felt the hardness of her body under the touch of his arm. ‘I’m going to kill him for this,’ she whispered.
Kirby was glad he was not on the receiving end of that intense comment. He could see that Belle meant every word she said.
When Jesse Lee had been sheriff, rooms had been set aside for him at the hotel and Lomas had taken them over to use as a temporary jailhouse for Cain Lemon. The disconsolate gunman was kept manacled to a brass bedstead in the room until Lomas could have him removed for trial.
Looking as spruce and neat as ever, he was coming down the stairs into the hotel lobby when Belle and Kirby came in.
‘How you fellows feeling?’ he greeted them.
‘We’re here to get a room and spend some time cleaning up,’ said Kirby.
‘Okay, how about you and me meeting up for breakfast when you’re done? There’s a diner down the street.’
Kirby understood the underlying message and nodded acceptance. It was plain to him that Lomas needed to talk in private. ‘Alright,’ he said. ‘I’m going out to get Belle some duds anyway. I’ll see you in a spell.’
They booked rooms from the desk clerk and Kirby saw Belle up to her room. ‘I’ll need a list,’ he said as he held the door for her.
‘You’re not too good on ladies sizes then?’ she half smiled.
Kirby shook his head, ‘I guess not.’
‘Okay, go wash at the nightstand there and I’ll write out what I want whilst you do it. There’s going to be things here you don’t need to see, so just give it to the lady in the shop and have it brought over for me.’
He pulled off his shirt as she sat at a small writing desk and took a sheet of hotel paper to make her list, as she did so she glanced across at him. He stood with his back to her pouring water from a jug and she noted the exit wound of the bullet hole she had seen earlier. There were other scars there too, lash or knife wounds crisscrossing his back.