Guns of Wrath

by Colin Bainbridge

  Annie seemed to gather her strength and even attempted to sit up.

  ‘Take it easy,’ the reverend said.

  ‘Those goddamned varmints,’ Comfort muttered. ‘I don’t care which one it is. Wilder or Clayburne, they’re as bad as each other. They’re both responsible for this.’

  Annie looked up at him and her mouth opened as if she was about to speak again.

  ‘What is it?’ Comfort said.

  Comfort had a feeling that her reluctance to speak was not on account of her injury.

  ‘Do you want to tell me somethin’?’ he said. ‘You’re not hurt anywhere else?’

  She shook her head gently before speaking.

  ‘The man who shot me,’ she said. ‘I saw him just before he fired. It wasn’t one of Clayburne’s men. It was Carl Sabin.’

  ‘Sabin? The same man beat you up and took Jenny?’

  She nodded again. Comfort leaped to his feet.

  ‘What are you doin’, Comfort?’ Bannock shouted.

  ‘I’m goin’ after Sabin and the rest of the varmints.’

  Bannock and Briggs exchanged glances.

  ‘You can’t go up against them alone,’ Bannock shouted.

  Comfort strode on, looking for his horse.

  ‘What can one man do against all of Wilder’s gunnies?’ Briggs called.

  Bannock turned to the reverend.

  ‘You stay here and keep an eye on Miss Annie,’ he said.

  The reverend scrutinized him.

  ‘What are you aimin’ to do?’ he said.

  Again Bannock and Briggs looked at one another. Briggs nodded imperceptibly.

  ‘Hold it, Comfort!’ Bannock shouted. ‘Just give us time to get our horses. We’re comin’ with you.’

  Before they got close to the Black Stirrup, they could hear the sounds of shooting.

  ‘Give Clayburne his due,’ Briggs said. ‘He ain’t afraid to go straight to the heart of the matter.’

  ‘I wonder how many of the others feel the same way?’ Bannock replied. ‘If some of those boys are regular farmers, they may not like it when things hot up.’

  ‘Wilder must have driven them hard. Sooner or later the worm turns.’

  Comfort ignored their comments. His jaw was set and his blue eyes flashed their intensity. Only when they had their first glimpse of the ranch house did they draw rein.

  ‘What now?’ Bannock said.

  They sat their horses and surveyed the scene. The ranch house was built on rising ground, overlooked at the back by a gently sloping wooded hill. It was clear that Clayburne had Wilder pinned down in the ranch house. Puffs of smoke rose from the trees and stabs of flame appeared at the ranch house windows.

  ‘I don’t imagine Wilder would have expected this,’ Bannock said.

  ‘Yeah. Guess they caught him by surprise.’

  Bannock laughed. ‘Well, I guess the best thing we can do is just let ’em fight it out.’

  Comfort could see the sense of the oldster’s comment, but he was growing restless. Things had turned out a lot different from what he had anticipated, but he was dissatisfied. Wilder and Clayburne might destroy each other and he could sit back and watch them do it, but he had a personal interest in the affair. It was not Clayburne who occupied his mind now, but Wilder.

  He thought about the things that had happened since his arrival at Cayuse Landing. From the moment he had set foot in the Crystal Arcade his life had been set at nought by Wilder and his boys. Without Bannock’s help, he would have been gunned down that first day. He remembered what had happened to the pair of them since; how Wilder’s gunnies had waited for them at Bannock’s shack, how they burned it down. He thought about Jenny. More than that, he thought about how Wilder had treated Annie.

  Now Annie had been shot, and it seemed by Wilder’s man: Sabin. It was a fair guess that Sabin and the three other riders with him had been on their way back from Cayuse Landing. Watching what was happening at Wilder’s ranch, it was as if everything had narrowed down for him to those two names. Wilder and Sabin.

  ‘I’m ridin’ on down,’ he said.

  Bannock and Briggs looked at each other.

  ‘You can’t do that,’ Briggs said. ‘It would be suicide.’

  ‘I’ll take my chances,’ Comfort said.

  Bannock’s horse reared as the sound of gunfire momentarily grew louder.

  ‘What are you tryin’ to prove?’ Bannock said after bringing it back under control. ‘Why not wait here and see what happens?’

  ‘I’ve waited long enough,’ Comfort replied.

  Without waiting for an answer, he touched his spurs to the horse’s flanks.

  ‘He’s got to be crazy,’ Bannock said.

  Comfort rode at a steady pace towards the ranch house, directing his course towards the smoke-filled yard. As he rode, his eyes scanned the scene. Most of Clayburne’s men had taken cover in the trees on the hillside, but a few seemed to have worked their way round to some corrals at the back, from where they were attempting to storm the rear of the ranch house. In the corrals horses were stamping and tossing. He wondered how long it would take before somebody on either side spotted him.

  A kind of calm recklessness had taken possession of him. It was as if all the years of pain and bitterness had come to a head and formed an abscess which needed to be punctured. He wasn’t thinking. He had no plan of action, no firm idea of what he would do when he got within range of both side’s guns. It was as if something outside himself had taken over, or some deeper part of himself that didn’t require conscious thought.

  The din of the guns was getting louder the nearer he got to the ranch house. His horse’s head was up and its ears were pricked but it seemed to have taken on something of its rider’s resoluteness and it did not falter.

  He was getting close when a plume of smoke suddenly arose from the back of the ranch house and flames began pouring through the roof. Within moments a cloud of billowing smoke obscured the yard, mingling with gunsmoke. Comfort spurred his horse and began to gallop fast. The scene in front of him was one of confusion. Shooting had dwindled and above the sporadic bark of guns he could hear voices calling frantically.

  A couple of figures had emerged from hiding and were running towards the barn. The door of the ranch house flew open and some men emerged, running hard for cover. A few horses seemed to have escaped from the corral and were running and plunging through the yard. Into this mêlée Comfort stormed. Out of the smoke a figure loomed up but Comfort did not stop. The horse hit the man full on and he went hurtling to the ground. As the horse veered, Comfort slid from the saddle and ran towards the ranch house door. Smoke was pouring from inside but he did not stop.

  Once inside, he was met by a wall of heat. Flames were licking through an open door beyond which the fire raged. The crackle of the flames was loud but not loud enough to drown a frenzied cry for help. Pulling up his bandanna for protection, Comfort crashed through the door. He could see nothing at first because of the smoke and dancing flames but after a moment he saw a figure lying on the floor. Between him and the man stretched a wall of fire but he didn’t hesitate. He leapt through the flames with one bound, bent down and, hauling the man upright, hoisted him over his shoulder.

  He turned to retrace his steps but the fire was raging with renewed fury and there was no way back. Staggering under the weight of his burden, he made for the back of the room where a blown-out window offered the only possible way of escape. He turned his back to the scorched window frame and unceremoniously dumped the man through it. He was wilting and it took all his remaining willpower to climb out of the window himself. He landed next to the man he had rescued and, coughing and spluttering, began to drag him away from the tortured building.

  His lungs were bursting and he had little strength left to attempt to lift the man. He had succeeded in getting him halfway to the corral when the ranch house walls gave way and the rear of the building collapsed in a shower of sparks. He had no time to dwell on what w
as happening because, with a thunder of hoofs, the remaining horses broke loose from the corral and began to gallop wildly in all directions.

  A fresh burst of fire came from the front of the building and a group of men emerged from a corner of the building behind him. A couple of shots rang out and bullets thudded into the earth near by. He drew his revolver and swivelled, taking an instant to steady himself before returning fire. The men had spread out and they had him covered. He dropped to the ground, rolling away as more bullets tore up dust. The situation was bad but then he became aware that the men had turned away and were not firing at him, but at someone behind them.

  Taking advantage of the moment, he leaped to his feet and, seizing the inert form of the man he had rescued from the fire, drew him into the relative safety of some bushes alongside the corral. Then he ducked back to face his attackers, but when he looked two of them lay stretched on the ground and the others were running hell for leather for the barn. Round the corner of the burning building two figures emerged, their guns smoking. Comfort raised his gun, about to fire, when he saw that the two men were Bannock and Briggs.

  ‘Go easy with that shooter!’ Bannock yelled.

  They ran to join him.

  ‘What the—’ Comfort began when the oldster broke in:

  ‘You might be mad, Comfort, but you didn’t think we’d let you do it on your own?’

  ‘What’s happening?’ Comfort said.

  ‘Looks like Clayburne’s won the day. Wilder’s men cut and run once the fire took hold.’

  Bannock looked more closely at Comfort. ‘You’re singed,’ he said.

  Comfort became aware that he had suffered burns in the fire. The skin of his hands was blistered and his clothes had suffered badly. He remembered the man he had rescued.

  ‘Come here,’ he said.

  Bannock and Briggs followed him to where he had laid the man down.

  ‘I don’t know how bad he is,’ Comfort said.

  Bannock bent down, took one glance, then looked up at Comfort.

  ‘Hell, you realize who this is? It’s only Clayburne himself!’

  Comfort had been in no position to observe anything about the man he had saved from the fire. Even if he had, it was unlikely he would have recognized him from the glimpse he had had through his field glasses, especially in his present condition. Clayburne’s face was burnt, blackened and blistered.

  Before Comfort could grasp the situation or react, they heard the clatter of feet and two men appeared from the bushes at the side of the corral. Bannock and Briggs had them covered. Looking up, Comfort thought he recognized the younger of them.

  ‘Have you seen Clayburne?’ one of them asked.

  Bannock indicated the prostrate figure of Clayburne with his gun. The young man sprang to his side.

  ‘He’s alive,’ he said. ‘Here, help me carry him to the barn.’

  ‘You got this man to thank for that,’ Briggs said.

  The young man looked at Comfort and Comfort realized who he was.

  ‘You’re Corrina Stead’s brother,’ he said.

  The youngster’s face expressed surprise. ‘Where have I seen you before?’

  ‘The paddle steamer,’ Comfort said. ‘Hope you managed those cases.’

  Daniel did not wait for further elucidation. Instead, he lifted up his uncle and, with some assistance from Briggs, carried him into the barn. As they did so, there came another tremendous crash as the rest of the ranch house collapsed. The last of the shooting had died away. As they tended to Clayburne, a man entered the barn. Daniel looked up at his arrival.

  ‘Well, he said, ‘have you found any trace of Wilder?’

  The man was breathless and paused to recover before replying.

  ‘Looks like he got away. Him and his henchman Sabin.’

  Daniel looked angry. ‘What do you mean, he got away?’

  ‘I asked around. Lem Ruddock said he thought he saw them both ridin’ off just about the time the ranch took fire.’

  Daniel made to move but then stopped and looked at the burned body of Clayburne.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Comfort said. ‘Leave those two to me.’

  Daniel hesitated then nodded.

  ‘Did he see which way they went?’ Comfort asked the newcomer.

  ‘Towards town.’

  ‘You mean Cayuse Landing?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Comfort got as far as the entrance to the barn when Bannock stopped him.

  ‘You ain’t ridin’ off alone again?’ he said.

  Comfort took the oldster’s shoulder.

  ‘I appreciate it,’ he said. ‘I appreciate how you and Briggs helped me out of a tough corner again. I guess I was kinda hasty. But this time I figure it’s my fight.’

  The oldster looked unconvinced.

  ‘Just get back to the reverend and make sure Annie’s all right.’ Comfort released his hold and glanced towards Briggs. ‘You understand?’ he said.

  Briggs nodded. Comfort walked out of the barn into the heat from the fire.

  ‘See you at Annie’s place in Cayuse Landing,’ he called over his shoulder.

  It didn’t take him long to find his horse. Thankfully, it had emerged unscathed from all the mayhem. He climbed into leather and rode away. When he reached the bottom of the slope leading to the Black Stirrup he stopped to look back. Flames still rose into the air but they were dying down. Nothing much remained of the ranch house but a blackened mass of twisted timber. A few people were gathered in the yard in front. Bodies of men and horses lay around and some of the horses that had broken loose from the corral still wandered about. Then he pulled on the reins and set his course for Cayuse Landing.

  It was only when he was out of sight and sound of the Black Stirrup and riding steadily that the implications of what he had done began to dawn on him. He had saved Laidler from the fire. Far from carrying out his revenge, he had rescued his enemy, saved him from a horrible death. He had set out to do one thing and he had done the precise opposite. How could it have happened?

  He fell to wondering whether it would have made any difference if he had known who the man was in that blazing room; he couldn’t arrive at a definite answer. The facts remained. Where did that put him now? Maybe Laidler, or Clayburne as he was now known, wouldn’t pull through. Either way, it made no difference. The deed was done. Now he had other matters to attend to.

  The miles passed but he scarcely noticed. He had not even taken account of the direction he was travelling but late in the afternoon he came on the old weathered sign pointing towards Cayuse Landing. So far he hadn’t considered what he would do when he got there, but now he needed to have his wits about him. Wilder had fled the scene of the battle, together with Sabin. Why had he done so? It could only have been because he realized he was losing that particular fight, but he would surely not give up so easily.

  Not all of his men would have been involved in the affair. He was too powerful to be defeated so easily. He would probably gather more of his men and regroup. That would probably mean the end for the farmers he was attempting to buy out. Did they realize the situation? Once Wilder was back in action, he wouldn’t be likely to show any mercy. He could rebuild the Black Stirrup, but he would never forgive its destruction. There was only one way Wilder would be finally defeated, and that would be when he was put permanently out of the picture.

  Comfort began to have a sense of how much depended on him. The future of the whole town rested on his shoulders. More than that: Wilder controlled most of the river traffic and his influence extended to the region beyond. It seemed he was aiming to extend his influence by running out the farmers. Unconsciously Comfort shrugged. He simply remembered Annie and the way Wilder had treated her. None of the rest of it was his problem.

  He was coming up to the outskirts of town. It was getting quite late in the afternoon but there was still a considerable number of townsfolk about. Something about him must have attracted their attention because several people stopped in th
eir tracks to watch him as he rode by. A man loading up a wagon outside the general store paused in the act of raising a sack to his shoulder. The blacksmith, in the process of beating out a sheet of iron, laid down his hammer and moved to the door of his forge. Comfort looked straight ahead but his gaze swept the street.

  A number of horses were tied to the hitch rack outside the Crystal Arcade. Coming abreast of it, he remained in the saddle for a few more moments before sliding from the leather. He tied his horse to the rail and bent over to look at the other horses. Two of them carried the Black Stirrup brand and they bore the sweat and dust of the trail. They had been ridden very recently. He stood back to take one last glance up and down the street, then, stepping up to the boardwalk, he brushed through the batwing doors.

  Through a haze of smoke he saw two men standing at the bar and something told him they were the two he was after. He strode slowly through the room. Heads turned and the background noise dropped. A tense stillness descended and the bartender paused as he dried a glass. The two men at the bar sensed that something was happening and glanced in the long mirror.

  ‘Wilder!’ Comfort said. One of the men slowly moved. ‘I hear you been lookin’ for me. Well here I am.’

  Wilder turned round so that his back was to the bar. He looked Comfort up and down through flat, cruel eyes.

  ‘And who are you?’ he hissed.

  ‘It don’t matter. Just call me a friend of Beaver Bannock.’

  A flicker of understanding passed across Wilder’s face.

  ‘You’re makin’ a big mistake,’ he said.

  The other man turned. Even though he hadn’t met him, Comfort would have recognized him from Annie’s description.

  ‘You ain’t facin’ a woman this time, Sabin,’ Comfort said.

  Sabin’s lip twisted in a snarl and his eyes flickered. Reflected in the mirror behind him, Comfort could see one of the seated customers slowly reaching beneath the table.

  Without hesitation he turned and as the man’s gun appeared in his hand he fired twice. The man slumped and his chair went crashing to the floor. Comfort spun back and as Sabin’s finger squeezed the trigger of his gun he fired again. Sabin staggered back, blood pouring from his chest; his gun exploded but Comfort had leaned sideways and the bullet flew past his shoulder. He fired again and Sabin went down, falling heavily against the bar. Comfort dropped to one knee but as he did so felt the heavy impact of a bullet and a searing pain in his arm. His gun fell from his hand as he looked up into the leering face of Wilder.