“Looks like a Mexican standoff, Doc.” Ben Lunsford stood with one arm around his brother’s neck. In his other hand he held a six-gun.
“Let Seth go. This is between us, isn’t it? Did Hannigan offer reward money for me?”
“Something like that, but I got a beef with you that money won’t settle.”
“I never did anything to you. You’re my friend. We survived Elmira by depending on each other.”
“You changed, Doc. You turned into a lowdown snake. Everyone in this damned town thinks you’re a saint. Me, they wouldn’t wet their whistle to spit on me.”
Seth tried to speak, but Ben tightened his grip and choked off the words.
“Me and my brother’ll go join up with Hannigan. He wants you alive to give over to Gerald Donnelly, but I think I’ll just shoot you.”
“He doesn’t want to ride with the gang anymore, Ben. Seth has a life here. He’s got a girl and—”
Knight dived and rolled when Ben Lunsford opened fire. Bullets kicked up straw and muck inches away. He found shelter behind a bale of hay.
“What’s eating you, Ben?” he called as he stayed low, out of the line of fire.
“You took her! You stole her away from me. I saw her first. I was the one givin’ her pa his painkiller, but you chopped off his legs so he wouldn’t be hurtin’ no more. Why’d she want a barkeep when she can have a doctor?”
Three more rounds tore into the hay bale. Knight tried to remember how many shots Ben had already fired. Two? Or was it three and he had to reload? He took the chance and stood, his pistol held stiff-armed and pointed straight at Ben Lunsford. His luck held. Ben tried to reload and hang on to Seth at the same time.
Seth dropped to his knees, then threw himself forward so Knight had a clear shot. His finger came back slowly. The front sight centered on Ben’s chest.
He couldn’t shoot. Not after all they had been through.
“I knew you was a coward, Doc. You’re a coward!” Ben Lunsford kicked at his brother, then ducked into a stall.
“Get out of there,” Knight yelled at the younger Lunsford.
“He’s reloaded, Doc. He’s gonna shoot you.”
Knight waited for Ben to pop up. Such a shot came easily, but his qualms about hurting a onetime friend made his bullet go wide, tearing away a big bright splinter from the partition between stalls. Then Knight had to duck as Ben sent a flurry of lead in his direction. He waited for the shooting to stop to try again. Seth Lunsford hunkered down on the far side of the door, safe.
A million things confused Knight. He was a doctor pledged to save lives, not take them. Ben Lunsford wanted to bring Hannigan and his cutthroats to Buffalo Springs to shoot up the town and rob the bank. What Ben had in mind for Amelia Parker if no one stopped him drove all the good sense from Knight’s brain and forced him to act.
“Doc, no!” Seth Lunsford cried out to stop him.
Knight hopped over the bale of hay, his six-shooter leading the way as he charged forward to end this. Ben Lunsford would never get his filthy hands on Amelia. Ever.
He fired twice as he rounded the end of the stall. The bullets tore into wood. The stall stood empty, mocking him. Ben Lunsford had hightailed it. He had left to report to Milo Hannigan. It was only a matter of time before the Hannigan gang swooped down on Buffalo Springs and the real fight began.
CHAPTER 30
“I knew he was a scoundrel. Never shoulda hired him.” Hattie Malone slammed her fist down on the bar so hard glasses rattled the entire length. She picked up the shotgun and waved it around. “When I get Ben Lunsford in my sights, I’ll blow him to kingdom come!”
Knight glanced at Seth, sitting in a chair at the edge of the crowd. It had taken several hours to get the townspeople assembled in the Golden Gate saloon, but Seth hadn’t recovered from the shock of seeing how his brother behaved, how he had threatened to kill him, and then shot at a man who hadn’t done him any harm.
Knight moved so he put some space between himself and Amelia Parker. She had insisted on attending, claiming Buffalo Springs was as much her home as any of the others. He had failed to get her to ride back to the farm and guard her father. Her thinking on the matter made sense. Hannigan and the rest likely wanted whatever they could steal in town. The outlying farms and ranches were too scattered for easy plundering. That left her pa high and dry and safer than if he were in town armed with a rifle.
Knight still wished she would leave for her pa’s farm. Hannigan showed a vicious streak, and Knight hadn’t told her what Ben Lunsford had said about wanting her for his own. If nothing else, with her beside him, Knight could keep her safe. He had the option of trading his life for hers. Of everything in Buffalo Springs, that deal made the best sense if Hannigan rode triumphantly through the streets.
He wanted Dr. Samuel Knight. Gerald Donnelly wanted him. The bluecoats wanted him. There wasn’t hardly anyone in East Texas who didn’t want a piece of Knight’s hide to nail up on their wall.
“Where’s Marshal Hightower? Didn’t you send for him?” He looked over his shoulder and saw the answer in Seth’s expression. So much had swirled around the young man, he had forgotten to get word to the lawman. “Never mind. I’ll fetch him.”
“I’ll go with you, Samuel.” Amelia Parker locked her arm through his so escape without her was nigh on impossible.
The short distance down to the marshal’s office gave him a chance to try again to persuade her to leave town.
“I refuse. These are my friends, my neighbors.” She tightened her grip on his arm. “Friends, neighbors, and more. I love you, Samuel, in case you haven’t figured that out.”
“Then do as I say and get to safety. I know Milo Hannigan.” He sucked in a deep breath and let the truth rush forth. “I rode with him and his outlaw gang. Ben, Seth, and I left when it got too much for us to stand.”
“You were a robber?” Amelia walked a few paces, never letting loose of her grip on his arm. “Then you must have been forced into such a life of crime.”
“I patched them up after more than one robbery went wrong. Hannigan isn’t a very good highwayman.”
“See. I knew it. You were there to save people, not kill them.”
“I’ve killed men.” Knight went cold inside remembering how he had faced down Hector Alton, and it hadn’t stirred him at all. Stone killer, he had heard it called. All emotion drained when he went for his six-shooter. Alton had been quicker to clear leather, but his aim had been shaky. Knight’s hand had been steady and his aim precise.
“Of course you have. You can’t save everyone, as you did Papa. And during the war. You said conditions in your surgery were deplorable. Most surgeons lost more patients than they saved. I am sure your record was better.”
He wanted to contradict her, but they had reached the jailhouse and the conversation had drifted from persuading her to leave town.
“Marshal? Marshal Hightower? Are you asleep?” She turned to Knight. “He’s such an old dear, but I swear that he sleeps eighteen hours a day.”
Knight opened the door, started to let Amelia enter first, then jerked her back.
“Samuel, that hurt!”
“Stay here.” He pushed past her and went to the marshal. The man sprawled back in his chair. His hat had fallen to the floor, showing the fringe of gray hair on his bald head. Smack in the middle of his forehead a tiny dark hole showed where a bullet had entered. Knight had seen wounds like this during the war and felt a knot in his belly as he rocked the dead lawman forward. A piece of skull the size of his fist had been blown out the back. He glanced down. There wasn’t any blood on the floor because it had all drained into the marshal’s fallen hat.
“Oh, no, what happened?”
“Ben must have stopped by to pay his respects as he left town. Or Milo Hannigan decided to remove any opposition when he returned with the rest of his men. Does it matter?”
“He’s dead.” Her voice came out low and tortured. “The only other time I ever saw a d
ead man was when Bobby Lee Banfield was killed by his mule. H-his chest had been crushed. He d-died almost instantly.”
“So did Marshal Hightower. He probably died while he was snoring and never even woke up to see who killed him.” Knight took the man’s coat from a rack and draped it over him, then went to the gun case. A chain kept casual thieves from making off with the rifles.
A savage yank tore the chain loose. He scooped up the five rifles and piled them into Amelia’s arms. Finding the drawers with boxes of cartridges for the weapons took a minute longer, but he herded her out and back toward the saloon.
“These won’t go far in arming the men, but it’s better than nothing. We have plenty of ammo. Our best tactic is to outlast Hannigan. He can’t have that much ammunition with him. At least we never had enough when I rode with him.”
“Is he as terrible as you make him out, Samuel? Really?”
“You don’t want to find out. He’d sell his own mother into slavery if he ever had one.”
Amelia laughed uneasily. “That’s a joke, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, a joke.” He stopped her and said urgently, “Go back to your pa. Take a rifle and a couple boxes of ammunition. Keep him safe.”
“He’s a better shot than I am.”
“Then give him the gun, and you reload for him. But leave town while you can.”
They had reached the saloon. Anxious eyes turned toward them as they came in.
“Doc Knight, you got us some rifles. Where’s Hightower? He hasn’t lit out for the tall grass, has he?” Hattie Malone spat and reached for the rifles cradled in Amelia Parker’s arms. Amelia let her take them, but she looked to Knight.
“The marshal’s not going to join us.”
The Golden Gate’s owner looked hard at him. “It’s like that, is it?”
“We can arrange a funeral afterwards.” Knight knew better than to add, “If any of us are still alive.”
Hattie understood. From Amelia’s tiny gasp, he thought she finally realized how serious a threat Hannigan posed to everyone in Buffalo Springs, even after seeing Hightower’s dead body. Knight knew some things took a while to percolate down so people accepted emotionally what they knew intellectually.
“How’re we defendin’ ourselves, Doc?” Hattie worked the rifle lever.
He handed her a box of cartridges. “I’m not the mayor. I’m certainly not the marshal. Pick somebody else to lead you.”
Hattie whistled. Everyone inside the saloon crowded out into the street.
“You got elected while you were gone. You oughta know how that works, Doc. If you don’t stick around to turn down a chore, you get to do it. Ain’t that so?”
Knight shuddered as the citizens let loose with a cheer of support. He had no idea what to do. Working as a surgeon and not an officer in the heat of battle was poor training for what was to be done. He looked around. Dawn threatened the eastern horizon.
“We don’t have much time. Hannigan will go for the bank.”
“So we all crowd in and defend it!” Hattie started off.
He grabbed the woman’s arm and swung her around. “We’d be trapped inside. Better to turn the tables. Let Hannigan and the rest of his men go in. If we’re all outside, we can trap them.”
“That’s a good plan, Doc.” Seth Lunsford hefted a rifle and began loading it. “We have resources outside as well as outnumbering them. If they try to shoot their way out, they’ll run out of ammo.” He exchanged a look with Knight. They both knew keeping his guns loaded had been a problem for Milo Hannigan.
“Spread out, circle the bank, then hide. Wait for the outlaws to break in and then we’ve got them.”
“But they’ll blow open the safe and take the money.” Jacob Stevenson tried to protest. Hattie took him aside to explain the trap for him. Having his money in jeopardy didn’t set well with him.
Knight hoped Hannigan stayed trapped and never got away with it. Then again, letting the outlaw go with the money had a chance of ending the threat. Hannigan had no loyalty to Donnelly. The lure of getting rich drew him to Buffalo Springs. Having money from the bank vault gave Hannigan reason to keep on riding.
Then Knight remembered Ben Lunsford and the way he had gone plumb loco. Hannigan galloping away did nothing to stop Ben’s hatred. Money wouldn’t quench his anger, and chances were good that Marshal Hightower had died from a bullet fired by Lunsford.
“What do you want me to do, Samuel?” Amelia Parker moved closer, holding a box of cartridges and a rifle. She thrust it out for him to take.
Knight had decided to order out of town anyone incapable of fighting. Tying Amelia up and sending her along presented the only path to safety for her. She would hate it, but he couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to her.
“I want you out of town. If I hog-tie you and—”
A bullet came whistling down the main street, derailing his intentions.
“They’re comin’ hard!”
Knight tried to find who’d shouted the warning. Then the world exploded all around him. Following the single shot came a fusillade. Hooves thundered toward him and the Hannigan gang fired at anything moving. When the saloon erupted in flame, Knight staggered away. Johnny Nott had tossed a lighted kerosene lamp through the open doors. When the bottled alcohol caught fire, the inferno forced Knight away.
He heard Hattie wailing about her destroyed saloon. Then Knight saw Ben Lunsford gallop past, firing at the woman. She threw up her hands, rifle cartwheeling in the air. When she collapsed to the street, there wasn’t any question she was dead. Ben had taken the first of his revenge against his former employer.
Knight levered a round into his rifle and tracked Ben, only to lose his target when the killer ducked low, using his horse as a shield.
“The town’ll burn down,” Amelia said. “We have to put out the fire before it spreads.”
“That’s what Hannigan intended. If everyone’s on a bucket line fighting the blaze he started, no one’s guarding the bank.”
Amelia Parker seemed caught between getting a firefighting effort started and going to the bank.
Knight grabbed her shoulder and turned her around. “Fight the fire. I’ll take care of the bank robbers.” He started to kiss her, but she’d already called out to the others and rushed off.
“I’ll help you, Doc. We both got a score to settle. I still can’t believe Ben used me as a shield.” Seth Lunsford looked so young. His face flickered with shadows and flames, turning him into something demonic. Or was he only determined?
Knight wanted to send him away, too.
Since it was Knight who was responsible for Hannigan’s blood feud, he knew he had to stop the attack. “We can stop them, Seth.”
Knight gripped the rifle stock so hard his hands shook. He forced himself to relax. This was no different from facing Hector Alton. “Try to get them in a crossfire. And”—he struggled to word it right—“and Ben is willing to kill both of us. Remember that. If it comes down to you or him, make your first shot count.”
Seth Lunsford swallowed hard and nodded once. He said nothing as he started walking fast toward the far end of town and the bank. Knight ran to catch up. A few words of encouragement buoyed courage. He had seen it work during the war as he listened to the best of the CSA officers talking to their troops before a battle. Jeb Stuart had been a master at finding just the right thing to say. Knight hunted for words and failed to find them. He was no Stuart, and he was no officer deploying his troops.
The only things he had in common with so many of the Confederate officers were that he was outgunned and outmanned.
He held out his arm and slowed Seth’s headlong rush. Four horses shifted about nervously in front of the bank, mesmerized by the fire burning on the other side of town.
“One’s missing,” Knight warned. “Check around back. I’ll make sure to keep Hannigan bottled up in the bank.”
“What do I do if I find him, Doc?”
“Anybody sees you fi
rst, you’re dead. Does that answer your question?”
Seth turned pale but gamely dodged around, keeping hidden from the bank as he made his way to the back. Knight settled down behind a water barrel, rifle resting on top so he could cover the door. A single lamp flared inside the bank, causing Knight to half rise. He settled back when he realized the robbers needed light to work on the vault and hadn’t set fire to the building as Nott did to the saloon.
Patience wore thin as he waited. Then he jumped to his feet, ready to charge when gunfire sounded from the rear of the bank. He had gotten halfway to the front door when Johnny Nott popped out, his six-gun in hand.
“Knight!” The outlaw lifted his six-shooter. He was a heartbeat too late. Knight pulled the trigger of the already aimed rifle. Nott let out a curious sound like a stepped-on puppy, threw up his hands, and fell backwards.
The shock of seeing the outlaw die so fast almost caused Knight’s own death. Both Porkchop and Lattimer boiled out, guns blazing in the weak dawn. Knight grunted and spun, falling to one knee as a bullet hit him in the side. It tore through his black coat but only creased his left side. Sluggish blood oozed from the wound. It burned like hell, but he knew he had to ignore it if he was to live.
He swung around and fell facedown. His finger drew back and the rifle bucked. Porkchop doubled over as he fired into the ground in front of him. Knight got off a second shot that tore straight through the dust cloud. Porkchop stopped firing. A quick survey showed that Lattimer hobbled toward the skittish horses. The outlaw had never recovered from all his prior wounds. Knight took out Lattimer’s legs. The man thrashed about, screaming curses. He fired at Knight until his pistol came up empty, then he tried to crawl away.
Knight scrambled to his feet and drew a bead on Lattimer. “Give up or I’ll shoot you down like a dog.”
Lattimer sat up, hands reaching over his head. He jerked and fell back when a shot rang out.
Knight looked at his rifle in shock. He hadn’t fired.
“Drop the rifle, Sam. Drop it or I’ll drop you.” Milo Hannigan had come up behind him.
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