Echoes of a Dead Man

by James, Terry

  ‘What makes you so sure?’ Matt asked, apprehension already churning his gut as the sun disappeared behind a cloud and a few tentative spots of rain hit his cheek.

  ‘Because the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.’ He rolled to his feet and yanked the Smith & Wesson from its holster.

  Matt rolled onto his back, feeling sick to his stomach as he looked up helplessly at Jethro towering over him, gun in hand. ‘You had me fooled there for a while, Jethro,’ he said, wishing now that he had undone the thong on his holster when they dismounted. ‘I just about bought that story your friend the sheriff fed me. I have to admit though, I thought you’d give me a fighting chance when it came down to it.’

  Below them Stone fired off another shot. Jethro sighed. It was hard to read his expression with the sun dipping in and out behind the clouds, but it didn’t matter. Matt didn’t need to see Jethro’s mocking smile to know the final showdown had arrived.

  ‘You still don’t get it, do you, Matt?’

  Matt decided to try and buy some time. ‘Why don’t you explain it to me?’

  ‘This was never about me killing you.’

  ‘That’s not the way it looks to me from down here.’

  Jethro stared at the gun in his hand, then slipped it back in its holster. ‘I came for Jessie. To do for her what I couldn’t do for her mother: to save her from a madman.’

  CHAPTER 15

  Matt accepted Jethro’s outstretched hand. ‘You’ve got some explaining to do, but right now we need to get down there pretty damn quick. Have you got any ideas how we do that without getting ourselves killed?’

  ‘Nope. The best I can come up with is we ride down that hill like our hair’s on fire and hope Stone doesn’t get in a lucky shot before we reach those cottonwoods.’

  Matt frowned at the idea then looked back at the distance they would have to cover in the open: 200 yards maybe even more down an incline that would test the horses’ footing even at a trot. Not to mention the skilled horsemanship that would be required to stay in the saddle, and neither he nor Jethro were in any condition for fancy riding.

  ‘Are you sure Stone can’t see more than thirty feet in front of him? He seems to be doing a good job of hitting that rock he’s aiming at.’

  ‘The rock ain’t moving,’ Jethro said, drily, putting his foot in a stirrup.

  ‘Then it seems to me we don’t have a choice.’ Matt swung up into the saddle and dragged his Henry rifle from its boot, firing off a succession of shots. ‘See you at the bottom.’

  As Jethro had predicted, Stone’s aim was poor, but the odd shot winged close enough to make Matt flatten in the saddle. For a short while, it looked like they might make it. They were almost to the cottonwoods when Matt heard Jethro’s horse scream. He didn’t have time to look back but he heard the animal crash to the ground and kicked his heels, urging his own mount forward and into the relative safety of the trees.

  Falling more than sliding from the saddle, he threw himself down and looked around for Jethro. The horse was down on its side. Blood showed on its neck and shoulder and its flanks heaved as it struggled to stand. Jethro had been thrown clear and lay a few feet beyond in the tall grass. Not a sound or movement gave a clue as to whether he was alive or dead and without putting himself at risk, there was nothing Matt could do for him either way. With Stone’s shotgun once again directed towards the mine, it appeared he at least was assuming the worst.

  ‘Just you, me and Jessica-Rose now, Lomew,’ Stone shouted, during a lull in the firing. ‘Do you think you can get to the mine and climb that ladder, especially in your condition, before she’s buried alive?’

  Matt ignored the challenge and after deftly loading a fresh magazine into his Henry rifle, he slipped his .45 from its holster, checked the chambers and slid it home. Remembering the spare Colt tucked into the back of his pants, he repeated the process. Satisfied that he was as prepared as he could be, he limped his way through the cotton-woods towards the sound of Stone’s voice.

  ‘Have you figured out how you’re going to get from those trees to the mine without me pumping you full of lead?’

  As he half ran, half stumbled, Matt pictured the layout. Between him and the mine, a distance of maybe 150 feet, there was nothing but a narrow stream and the collapsed ruins of the cabin. From his vantage point, Stone couldn’t fail to hit him if he made a run for it. Under the cover of a night sky Matt would rate his chances as good, but nightfall was hours away and with the mountain rumbling its dissent, Matt doubted he had that much time to make his move.

  He flinched as a pellet nicked the tree where he was standing, spraying him with splintered bark. Angry at his own inability to come up with a plan, he shouted, ‘Why are you doing this, Stone? Let Jessie go. It’s me you want, isn’t it?’

  ‘Don’t fool yourself, Lomew. This was never about you.’

  Matt didn’t really care what Stone’s motives were but he noticed the firing stopped while Stone was talking and decided to buy himself and Jessie some time. ‘Then why seek me out, threaten me, take my girl?’

  Stone’s laughter mocked him. ‘Because you killed my pa and when I found out from Judge Bamford that he’d made arrangements for you and George Weekes’s granddaughter to disappear, I just guessed you’d lead me to her. I waited a long time to make Jethro pay for what he did to me and my pa. The Bible says an eye for an eye. Well, he took Marianne from us and now I’m going to take Jessica-Rose from him. The fact that I get to kill the man who killed my pa just makes the wait that much sweeter.’

  ‘That story doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. I thought you and Jethro were partners.’

  ‘I played him. All the time he thought he was helping me look for my pa, when I was just sticking with him waiting for the day he’d lead me to Jessica-Rose. I never guessed his guilt would run so deep that he’d abandon her and treat me like his own son, but it did my heart good to see him suffer every day.’

  An eerie silence followed, seeming to echo Matt’s confusion and question Stone’s sanity at the same time. Cautiously, Matt poked his head around the cottonwood, taking a few moments to locate the place where Stone was hiding. As he watched, he glimpsed Stone’s arm as he took aim at the mountain again. When the shotgun was spent, he dropped back out of sight. Matt almost laughed. Stone was a stupid son-of-a-bitch if ever he had met one. On a hunch, he fired off a couple of shots, pulling them short of Stone’s actual hiding place.

  ‘Is that the best you can do, Mr Fancy Gunslinger?’

  Matt levered off another couple of shots, grinning as a surge of renewed optimism flowed through him. ‘A rifle ain’t my weapon of choice. But if you want to step down here and face me man-to-man. …’

  He let the invitation hang as he adjusted his stance, leaning his shoulder against the cottonwood for much needed support as he sighted along the barrel of the Winchester.

  ‘Maybe later. I ain’t finished my story yet.’

  Shoved back into the mine where the roof had caved in years earlier, Jessie came slowly back to consciousness. Stone had made sure with another beating that she completely understood his hatred for her. Not that there was any room for doubt. She remembered everything now. How fourteen years earlier, she had wandered into this same place looking for cookies Stone said he had hidden here. Being only three or four years old, she hadn’t understood the danger, but the darkness had quickly swallowed her, leaving her frightened and confused. When her childish whimpers had brought no help, she had screamed until she was hoarse.

  But she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction this time and she dragged herself firmly out of the past and into the present. Shifting her head to ease the ache in her jaw, she realized she was lying face down in a pool of her own blood. Her nose had stopped bleeding but it hurt like hell and when the firing stopped all she could hear was her breath rasping through her split and swollen lips. Maybe it was wishful thinking but she could swear the shots sounded different now and were coming from further away. Mat
t. It had to be. A light-headed euphoria overwhelmed her and despite the direness of her situation, she started to laugh as she blinked back tears of joy. Matt had come for her, just as she knew he would. But her excitement died as quickly as it had flared into life as one of Stone’s shots shattered some more rock, loosening one of the timber supports and setting the mountain to rumbling again.

  With the mouth of the mine already starting to buckle under his bombardment, chances were she would be buried alive before Matt could get to her, unless she could help in her own rescue. It was worth a try. Fighting past the dizziness that Stone’s brutality had caused her, she wriggled towards the light. Although no more than fifteen feet away, it seemed to take forever as she inched herself over the debris and decay of the earlier cave-in, hoping above hope that the pick axe she had seen as Stone dragged her inside would still be there.

  As she got closer to the entrance, Stone’s voice floated towards her, muffled at first then clearer. She stopped to listen, almost grateful for the interruption as sweat poured into her eyes and mingled with the blood from her nose to form a metallic, salty sheen on her lips that made her want to throw up.

  ‘Jethro destroyed my pa long before your bullet could finish him off. The day he rode into this valley and stole Marianne was the day Pa really died. We loved her, but once she met Jethro there was no room for us. She ripped out Pa’s heart and abandoned us.’

  ‘Is that why your pa killed her?’

  Jessie’s heart soared as she recognized Matt’s voice. With renewed determination, she started inching towards the entrance again.

  ‘He didn’t kill her. Jessica-Rose and this mountain killed her.’

  Jessie shuddered at Stone’s twisted truth. He made it sound as though she had caused the mine to cave in, burying her and her mother under layers of dust and rock. Her head swam with the memory, the walls suddenly closing in on her, sucking the breath from her body and tearing a scream from her despite the promise to herself not to give Stone the satisfaction of hearing her fear.

  She heard Matt shout her name, and Stone’s laughter as another shot smashed into the mine, shattering another section of the wall and the rotting wooden support that held the roof in place. As the beam shifted, she buried her face in the dirt, expecting to be crushed under the weight of the mountain as it surged against its restraints. But the rumbling stopped and when she opened her eyes again she noticed the pick axe where Stone had thrown it, half buried under the dirt and debris.

  Choking on dust as she breathed heavily, she swung her legs forward and hooked her foot around the handle. It wouldn’t move and her frantic attempts only left her weaker and more breathless. She stopped to rest and think, trying to order her thoughts. She was close to her escape now, close to where Stone’s shots were hitting. If she tried to reach the pick, Stone might see her but if she didn’t. …

  ‘I’ll kill you, Stone, you bastard,’ Matt shouted.

  Another exchange of fire erupted and in a moment of madness, she dragged herself into the opening. With the mountain shifting around her, she still somehow realized that if she wanted to escape she would have to free her feet first. Shifting her weight onto her back, she raised her ankles onto the blade and started the slow process of chafing the ropes around her ankles, hoping all the time that the creaking beams keeping the mine in place would hold just a little longer.

  CHAPTER 16

  Matt’s arms ached with the weight of the Henry as he waited for Stone to make his next mistake, but he refused to give in to his weakness, instead mentally picturing Stone emptying spent cartridges and reloading the shotgun. As if to thwart his patience, the rain had started again in earnest now and he blinked rapidly as it splashed his face. Just a few seconds more and. …

  He pulled the trigger almost before he saw Stone’s red shirt, wondering if intuition or blind luck was guiding his finger. Whichever it was, his aim was true as he levered the Henry and heard Stone squeal. He didn’t wait to find out if Stone was badly injured or just winged and he was already to the stream before gunfire kicked up dirt at his feet. But there was no going back as he glimpsed Jessie on the platform outside the upper mine. Almost naked, with blood in her hair and her face bruised and battered, she looked more dead than alive, but she was moving.

  His gaze shifted quickly to Stone to confirm what the sound of the report had already told him. Stone no longer had the shotgun and Matt’s chances had improved greatly. Added to that, Stone was standing out in the open now, one arm hanging limp and bloody at his side, his six-gun in his other hand. Realizing the Henry was empty, Matt dropped it as he staggered through the stream and grabbed for his .45. He was within fifty feet of Stone now, but, as he zigzagged his way towards the mine, he couldn’t get off a clean shot. Luckily, for him, neither could Stone as his shots rained harmlessly left and right.

  Both guns clicked empty at the same time and Matt let sheer momentum carry him the last few feet, tackling Stone to the ground and landing several hard punches to his face before Stone could react. But, as Matt had suspected that first day outside the saloon, Stone was a natural brawler and despite his handicap he managed to throw Matt off easily. They both came up panting, a few feet separating them as they eyed each other warily and circled for an advantage.

  ‘You don’t look so big without that Colt in your hand,’ Stone said, spitting blood. ‘And I’ve been slapped harder by a two-bit whore than that. We can stand here and fight all day for all I care, listening to Jessica-Rose scream as the mine collapses and buries her alive.’

  Matt didn’t doubt that with his own injuries, both from the shooting in Silver Springs and the fall from the boarding-house, he was no match for Stone in a fist fight, even if his adversary was one-handed and losing blood. But he’d be damned if he would let Stone know that.

  ‘I’m ready any time you are. With or without a gun, I’m going to kill you one way or another for what you did to me in Silver Springs and for what you’ve done to Jessie.’

  Stone laughed. ‘Hell, I reckon I don’t mind paying for my time with her. She sure did feel good under all that satin and lace … and she was a real wriggler too.’

  Matt lunged, head down, driving Stone back across the clearing and into the stream. Together they went down in the water, a tangle of arms and legs, neither one of them gaining the upper hand as Matt punched air and flesh in equal amounts. Again Stone wrestled him off, managing somehow to throw him face down. Before Matt could scramble clear, Stone punched him in the back, compounding the injuries Matt had been trying to ignore.

  ‘Looks like I win,’ Stone said, with the glee of a child as he pressed his knee hard into Matt’s spine and yanked the old Colt from the back of Matt’s pants. ‘Makes me almost glad you didn’t die in Silver Springs. I’m going to enjoy making you watch as the mine crushes and suffocates Jessica-Rose, and then I’m going to kill you with your own gun.’

  He grabbed Matt’s hair by the roots and slammed his face down into the water, holding it there while Matt struggled, the effort quickly draining the remaining fight out of him. When he came up, he again glimpsed Jessie. She was outside the mine now, standing on the platform, but when Stone let go of Matt’s hair and fired off a couple of shots, she staggered back inside ducking as the mountain bore down on its restraints, showering her with dust and debris.

  ‘Not long now, Matt. I’d say a couple more minutes at the most before the mountain swallows her up.’ He rapped him over the skull with the gun, hard enough to hurt like hell but not enough to knock him out.

  ‘You miserable son-of-a-bitch,’ Matt gasped, words the only recourse left to him now that his body had finally given in. ‘I should have killed you that day outside the saloon.’

  ‘Yep, you should have,’ another voice agreed.

  Matt managed to lift his head high enough to see Jethro standing not ten feet away. Ashen faced and frail, he looked as near to death as any man Matt had ever seen, but he held the Smith & Wesson with ease and authority.


  ‘Jethro.’ Stone seemed to choke on the name. ‘I thought you were dead.’

  ‘That’s a mistake you keep making.’ Jethro laughed. ‘But then you always were as dumb as a stick.’

  ‘And you were always a mean old bastard.’

  Two shots rang out, so close together they could have been one. Matt’s attention stayed on Jethro where he stood stock-still, smoke curling from the barrel of the Smith & Wesson. On a hunch, Matt tried rolling. The movement, although small, was enough to shift Stone’s dead weight and his body splashed lifeless into the water. For a second, Matt stopped to look into Stone’s staring eyes. It reminded him of looking into Ethan Davies’s years before, only this time he felt no remorse for the death of a madman.

  ‘I believe you now, Jethro,’ he said, struggling to his feet.

  ‘Then trust me when I tell you that mine’s about to give,’ Jethro shouted.

  He was already stumbling towards it and Matt caught up just as Jethro reached the ladder, shouting for Jessie to come out and climb down. But she didn’t appear and when Jethro quieted, Matt added his voice to the plea.

  ‘Jessie, come on. Stone’s dead, it’s safe to come out now,’ he assured her.

  Her face appeared seconds later over the edge of the platform.

  ‘Climb down. It’s all right.’

  ‘I can’t. I’m too scared.’

  Matt shoved Jethro out of the way, fighting his weakness and stopping momentarily to wait for another bout of dizziness to pass before he started to climb. It was hard work and he stumbled over each rung, the old ladder groaning under his weight before he was more than a few feet above the ground. Whether he or the ladder would break first was an even bet. He looked down. Jethro was struggling to hold it steady with only one good arm. As he watched, Jethro awkwardly threw off the sling, slammed his body against the rungs and wrapped his broken limb around the ladder, gripping his useless wrist with his good hand.