by James, Terry
Somewhere on the edge of his comprehension, Matt heard a man say, ‘I think it’s Mrs Donovan.’ He started to breathe again, deep then shallow as the ember-filled air attacked his lungs.
‘Look! Up there,’ someone shouted.
His gaze shifted to the second storey, scanning the windows where a rosy tinge added life to the drifting smoke that weaved its way ever upwards, guiding the hungry flames to new feeding grounds. At first, he saw nothing. And then, he spotted hands pressed against glass and the faintest shadow of a face.
He couldn’t say where his strength came from. Maybe it was blind panic that drove him though the crowd, onto the steps of the saloon, onto the porch railing and up onto the overhang. The distance between the saloon and the boarding-house was just a few feet and without thinking of the consequences he threw himself across. The wood sagged under his weight, but held, and he didn’t linger. The window where he had seen the woman was closest to him. Peering inside he saw nothing through the smoke.
He smashed the glass with his elbow, ducking quickly to the side as smoke and heat rushed out. Beneath his feet the overhang creaked and he dived in through the window, landing flat on his face. Staying low, he looked around at floor level where the smoke was thinnest, the air almost breathable. On the second sweep, he saw a figure hunched beside the window and crawled back towards it.
‘Jessie?’ he asked, already knowing it wasn’t her. This woman was too broad. Fear-filled eyes glistened back at him. ‘Mrs Donovan?’ he asked, dreading the answer.
She nodded, reigniting the fear and suspicion that had paralysed him so completely when the doctor covered the corpse in the street.
‘We’re trapped,’ Mrs Donovan, croaked. ‘We’re going to die.’
‘No, we aren’t. Now get up and climb through the window.’
‘My leg is hurt. I can’t stand on it.’
‘Then wrap your arms around my neck because burning isn’t the way I intend to die and I’m not leaving without you.’
Her teeth flashed against the sootiness of her skin, then reluctantly, she did as he bid, crying against his ear as he gathered her into her arms.
‘Now close your eyes, take a breath and hold it for as long as you can. Ready?’
He felt her chest heave against his, and followed his own advice as he staggered to his feet. As they left the band of cleaner air, a cloud of black smoke cloaked them. Matt blinked rapidly. His eyes watered, blinding him as ash and smoke attacked them. He paused a moment to get his bearings. The window had been behind him. Had he turned as he lifted Mrs Donovan? He forced himself to stop and listen, being repaid by the sound of voices coming from … his left?
Mrs Donovan choked against his ear. Stumbling backwards a couple of paces, he reeled, touching the wall with his left shoulder. He stepped back again and again, suddenly losing his precarious balance as the wall disappeared.
Sensing the window, he slipped his backside onto the ledge, glass shards tearing his pants as he pulled his legs around awkwardly and negotiated himself and Mrs Donovan out. Looking down into the street, his eyes barely open, he glimpsed a crowd of men below shouting unintelligibly and waving up at him.
Tentatively, he tested his foot on the wooden overhang. It creaked but held. Unsteadily, he lowered his weight onto it. Mrs Donovan’s nails cut into his neck as he eased his way along the wall, keeping close as a coat of paint to the blistering wood frontage.
‘The porch is about to go,’ someone shouted.
Through slitted eyes, his gaze followed the direction of the voice and he glimpsed two men, standing on the porch of the saloon. How he had reached the gap between the buildings so quickly he had no idea, but as he teetered near the edge he felt the wood give way beneath his feet. He started to fall, felt Mrs Donovan lose her grip and heaved her towards the men. She screamed, but there was nothing he could do as the roof finally gave way and he plunged blindly into a heap of new pain and defeat.
CHAPTER 10
From an abandoned warehouse opposite the boarding house, Jessie watched as Matt climbed the roof, emerging from the burning building minutes later with a woman she recognized as the proprietor. When the roof collapsed, burying him under its smouldering wreckage, she screamed against the gag cutting into her mouth, and renewed her struggles against the ties binding her hands and feet.
It earned her another slap and her breathing quickened along with her heartbeat as she listened to Stone chuntering. Morning was rushing in on them now, giving detail to the grey-clad shadows and allowing her to see his hands shaking as he checked the chambers of his gun. Her mind scrambled for a plan, but beyond the cold gnawing at her and the throb in her jaw, nothing else registered clearly.
Nothing except the gun.
She tried again to scream but the attempt stuck in her throat, the pathetic choking sound drawing Stone’s attention and with it the muzzle of the weapon. Suddenly, her bound limbs moved of their own accord, taking her awkwardly backwards as she scrambled for cover that didn’t exist.
‘Just you and me now,’ Stone said, holstering the gun as he strode towards her.
She ducked sideways as he grabbed for her but with her hands and feet tied she had no chance of escaping. Until she saw a blade flash in his hand. Somehow, she managed to roll out of his reach but it was a short-lived bid for freedom as he tackled her onto her stomach, his knee digging painfully into the small of her back.
Suddenly, she felt the painful pressure at her ankles ease followed by an intense tingling in her wrists as her hands fell free. Immediately, she clawed at the dirt floor, trying to pull herself free of his weight.
Yanking hard on her hair, he snatched her back. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ He nicked her cheek with the blade as he sliced through the gag, allowing her to spit it out before his hand tightened around her throat.
‘Ain’t any use trying to call for help. There’s so much going on out there, so many men shouting, women screaming, nobody’s going to hear you above a hullabaloo like that.’
He was right. They were so close and yet they could have been a mile away. Nobody was coming to help her. Her fate was in her own hands.
‘Please, let me go,’ she gasped, her reasoning being her only bargaining chip. ‘You can get away while they’re busy trying to put out the fire.’
Stone laughed. ‘Nice try.’
‘I promise, I won’t tell them anything.’ She stopped struggling as the breath in her body dwindled.
‘I don’t need your promises.’ He shifted his weight from her back and turned her over to face him. ‘When I’m through with you. …’
The desires of men were a mystery to her, but Jessie knew instinctively what Stone intended. Maybe it was the wild, hungry look in his eyes, or the tautness of his body as he dragged her against him. Maybe it was just the worst thing she could imagine.
‘You can’t do this,’ she said, fighting against him.
He stopped as if to consider the possibility, drawing the Bowie knife gently along the profile of her face before stabbing it into the dirt beside her head. ‘Give me one good reason why the hell not?’
‘Because … I’m your cousin, Jessica-Rose.’ Even now, with her life depending on it, she almost choked on the words, still half-refusing to believe the suspicions that her conversation with Jethro had thrown up. But what did it matter what she believed as long as Stone did?
His laugh was one of genuine amusement. ‘Wondered when you’d get round to admitting that.’
The realization that he already seemed to know momentarily replaced fear with curiosity.
‘You knew?’
Stone smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘There ain’t no other reason I’ve been tagging along with Jethro for so long. I knew sooner or later, he’d find you.’
‘You’ve been looking for me?’ It didn’t make sense, especially with him about to defile and probably kill her. ‘What did I ever do to you?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Then wh
y—’
‘Because Jethro did.’ A faraway look came into his eyes. ‘And payback’s a bitch.’
She managed to wrap her fingers around the knife just before her head jarred against the ground and, as he came down on her, she lashed out. The knife raked across his forehead, his nose and down his cheek. Sticky warmth splashed her lips and she gagged on the metallic taste of his blood.
He gripped her wrist, easily taking the knife from her tenuous grasp. ‘You little hellcat.’
The blade flashed close to her eye before spinning off to a point behind them. Glass shattered.
‘Shit. Now look what you made me do.’
He slapped her across the jaw, again and again, leaving her dazed and unable to resist when his hand clamped her wrists above her head, exposing her fully to his insane pawing. His laughter mocked her, his physical anger quickly weakening her frenzied attempts to escape. It was useless. He was twice her size and driven insane by hatred she couldn’t even begin to understand.
She stopped struggling and spat blood in his face. ‘What did Jethro ever do to you?’
‘He took what should have been mine.’
His mouth came down hard on hers as it twisted with disgust, his stubble rasping her face and renewing her struggles. She sank her teeth into his lip. He moved quickly, his forearm choking her as it slammed across her throat. Trapped, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t fight anymore.
‘That’s better. Now you just lie still’ cause I ain’t got time for games now. And don’t think you ain’t got nothing to lose by fighting me. You see, I ain’t going to kill you. I need you alive for what I’ve got planned.’
He eased the pressure on her throat, allowing her to gasp in a few breaths of smoky air. ‘Don’t do this to me. It’s not right. I’m your cousin. I never did anything to you.’
His laughter mocked her as he unbuttoned his pants. ‘Maybe, maybe not, but you’ve been company with them that did. You see, Lomew might have fired the bullet that killed my pa but Jethro was the man who destroyed him.’
CHAPTER 11
For a few seconds, Matt didn’t feel anything as he lay motionless beneath the smouldering remains of the porch. The fall seemed to have knocked every ache and emotion from him and, as he opened his eyes, he wondered if he were still alive, or if the lightening sky was the doors of Heaven opening to let him in.
And then all hell broke loose.
He gasped, unable to draw breath, aware only of a crushing weight across his chest. Frantically, he clawed at the scorching wood, his fingers stinging then burning. His whole body felt as if it was on fire, the stench of searing flesh filling his nostrils as he fought helplessly to free himself. Suddenly the weight lifted and for a split second he believed he was floating. Then hard earth slammed against his back and a new screeching, winged enemy battered him.
‘That’s enough. Do you want to kill him?’ Someone knelt at his side and spoke close to his ear. ‘Matt, can you hear me?’
His eyelids fluttered, refusing to open fully as a familiar face swam in and out of focus and Jethro peered intently down at him. Immediately, Matt tried to get up but a stabbing pain in his back, and Jethro’s hand pressed firmly against his shoulder, stopped him.
‘Don’t try to move,’ Jethro warned. ‘The doctor’s coming.’
Ignoring his advice, Matt grabbed the front of Jethro’s coat. ‘We need to find Jessie.’
Jethro gripped his arm, shaking his head as he knelt beside him and pushed him down. ‘You need to take it easy, son. That was a hell of a fiery fall you just took.’
Matt struggled to focus then closed his eyes against the annoying blur of colour that made his stomach undulate. In a world of darkness he noticed his own rapid breathing and tried in vain to lengthen the quick breaths that tugged him close to unconsciousness. The sound of breaking glass mingled with a scream echoing through the blackness, jolted him back to full awareness with the surety of a bucket of cold water thrown in his face. Stubbornly, he forced his eyelids to open and stay open.
‘What is it? What did you see?’ he asked, noticing Jethro’s gaze stray to a point behind him.
‘Nothing.’
Matt secured his grip on Jethro before he could get away. ‘You heard Jessie scream, didn’t you?’
Jethro hesitated. ‘No. Women are having hysterics all over the place.’
‘You’re lying. What did you see?’ He tensed as pain streaked through him, spreading from the tips of his blistered fingers out to every inch of his body as he struggled to stop Jethro leaving. His fingertips burned white hot as he fumbled with the thong on his holster but the Colt slipped easily into his hand. ‘You know where they are, don’t you? Help me, God damn you,’ he said, pressing the muzzle to Jethro’s side, ‘or I’ll shoot you dead and crawl over your corpse if I have to.’
‘Don’t be a fool. You’re in no condition to go anywhere. Let the doctor tend to you and I’ll bring Jess back.’
‘What about Stone? Will you bring him back?’
Jethro’s mouth puckered into a scowl, his answer clear in the twitch at the corner of his eye.
‘That’s what I thought. Now, help me up.’ He pushed the muzzle of the Colt tighter against Jethro’s side. ‘I won’t ask again.’
‘All right.’ Jethro waited for the .45 to drop. ‘But next time you pull that iron, make sure you use it. You might not get a second chance.’
Matt didn’t actually see the short punch that connected with his jaw, but he felt its power just before he slipped into oblivion.
‘Stone? Are you in there?’
Jessie waited for the next blow to fall, but Stone’s raised fist stopped in mid-air. Looking past his elbow, she barely made out Jethro moving in behind him and her hopelessness hit rock bottom.
‘What the hell did you do to her?’ Jethro asked, running the last few feet to crouch beside her.
Although Stone had failed in his attempts to exact his punishment completely, that had only increased his cruelty as he beat her nearly senseless. Through eyes swollen almost shut, she thought she saw concern on Jethro’s face as he squinted down at her. But it didn’t stop her cringing when he pushed Stone aside and gathered the remnants of her nightdress around her.
‘You mean son-of-a-bitch,’ he said. ‘She didn’t deserve this.’
‘The hell she didn’t.’ Stone wiped his eye as he thrust his chin forward to display the ugly slash dripping blood down his face. ‘Look what she did to me.’
Uncoiling like a spring, Jethro landed a fist to Stone’s chin that sent him flying backwards and crashing into a rotten wooden crate. For a brief moment, it looked like Stone wouldn’t get up as he shook splinters out of his hair and gingerly massaged his jaw.
‘What was that for?’ he asked, reeling to his feet.
‘I told you not to touch her.’
‘Yeah, you did, didn’t you?’ He hitched his pants up higher at the waist and scratched his crotch. ‘I guess I forgot.’
Jethro glanced at Jessie, and for a split second she recalled seeing that same look of sadness before. The day her mother had died. He had looked at her that way and even at the age of four she had known that nothing was ever going to be the same again. And it wouldn’t be now. She dropped her gaze, wishing for some release from the hopeless situation she was in, but the throbbing in her head refused to let her go.
‘Stone, you better get out of here,’ Jethro opined. ‘It won’t be long’ til Lomew comes round and tells them where to find you.’
Jessie teetered back from her hazy reality, meeting Stone’s ugly glare with what she hoped was one of triumph.
‘He’s still alive? Good. I was worried that fall might have killed him, robbed me of seeing him die for what he did to me and my pa.’
‘Forget him,’ Jethro said, off-handedly. ‘He’s crippled. That fall finished the work your bullets started.’
‘If he ain’t dead, that means he’s alive. Alive’s still breathing and I swore on my pa’s grave the
man who killed him wouldn’t draw another breath when I found him.’
Jethro’s sigh was audible, even over the chaos outside surrounding the fire.
‘You know, Unc, I don’t think you feel as strongly about it as I do. In fact, you’ve been riding drag ever since you saw this girl. Maybe you’ve got some business you need to take care of.’ He broke into a lascivious grin and half-turned towards the door. ‘I can keep watch if you want to scratch an itch with the brat.’
Even Jessie knew it was a trap.
‘Shut your filthy mouth or. …’ Jethro’s gun hand twitched but he let the threat hang and instead straightened his hat as he stood up.
‘Or what?’ Stone asked, squaring up, back straight, legs slightly bent, hand shifting lazily to shadow his gun. ‘It sounds to me like there’s something on your mind, old man.’
During the standoff that followed, Jessie curled into the folds of her tattered nightdress, groaning as the movement ignited another round of agony. Jethro glanced back and in that instant she saw Stone’s hand move. She screamed a warning to Jethro but it was too late. As the sound of a gunshot quieted the chaos outside, his blood splashed her face and she managed a half-scream before he plummeted forward, landing with a loud snap and trapping her with his body. With her heart beating loud enough to wake the dead, she lay still, waiting as Stone barred the door then ran to the window and peered out.
‘Jessica-Rose, listen to me,’ Jethro whispered, urgently.
His fingers touched her hair but she didn’t flinch. He was in a worse way than she judging by the blood seeping through his shirt and warming her skin. His arm, trapped at an uncomfortable angle across her body dug into her stomach and she grimaced as he moved to press his face close to hers.
‘I know you’re afraid, and you’ve got no reason to trust me, but I need you to listen.’ He shifted his weight against her, his hand moving away from her hair and brushing her skin as he slid it down her body. ‘My arm’s busted and I can’t reach my gun, but I’ll do what I can to stop Stone. If you get a chance to run, take it. If you don’t, do exactly as Stone tells you. Don’t fight. Don’t argue. Do what you have to do to stay alive. Do you understand me?’