Walt did not even want to think about it, he just wanted a nap before the long night ahead.
Hunter would take the first and only watch of the day, for he could not sleep. He had been eaten up with revenge and anger for so long, like Montgomery, he just wanted it to be over. Hunter numbed his thoughts at his post at the tree line, by cleaning his guns. He swabbed each weapon of justice one at a time, so he would not be left unarmed. He cleaned one pistol, reloaded it, and then swabbed the other, leaving the shotgun for last.
As he pushed the wad of cotton through the 12-gauge barrel, he smelled her a half-second after he heard the crunch of earth below her feet. Helen sat down on a rise of lime rock protruding from the ground three-feet beside Hunter. He reloaded the shotgun and slid it back into its side-shoulder holster. He pulled out his cigarillos, unwrapped them from a thin sheet of deer leather, putting one to his mouth.
"Got an extra one of those, gunslinger?" asked Helen.
He handed her one, still not turning his head to look at her until he struck the match and put it to her cigar. He gazed upon her as she puffed on the smoke. It had been three or four days, and nights, since Hunter had took this woman from Montgomery's big house, where he knew she was pampered. Living in the swamps for these many days had not left her any worse for wear. She was even more beautiful to Hunter somehow, more natural.
Helen glanced up making eye contact.
He looked away, guiding his attention to his cigar.
"Do I really look that much like her?" asked Helen, breaking a short uncomfortable silence.
"In some ways yes, and then again some ways no."
"In a few hours you're going to storm the castle, if you will, and life may be too short for you not to know how I feel about you."
Hunter was shocked, this he did not expect. He stood up and looked to Helen unintentionally.
She stood after him and took the two steps to face him. She took his hands into hers and, standing on the tips of her toes to reach his tall stature, she kissed him passionately.
At first Hunter did not kiss back, his mind reeling, then he could not help himself. He took her into his arms with passion. It was a long kiss, only broken by a twinge of guilt that crept into his mind. He pushed her away gently.
"Helen," Hunter spoke hesitantly, "I don't know if there is room in my heart for another."
"I have no doubt your heart is big enough, and I'm willing to share, for a while."
"You hit me with this, now?" The gunslinger took a few steps away from her, and looked around; making sure those old coots weren't listening in on this embarrassing conversation.
Helen sat back down on her rock. "I'm a woman who goes after what she wants. You will have a better chance to survive goin' into battle if you're fueled with somethin' other than revenge."
"So you came to me like this to fill my head with hope? Let me tell yah, hope to me is just an excuse to do nothin' – revenge has done well for me, thus far."
Helen just smiled at him from her rock stool.
Hunter continued, "All right, if you really want to help me, you can sit at the watch, so I can take an hour of shut eye." He pulled the shotgun from its shoulder holster and handed it to Helen butt first. "Just point and shoot, got it?"
"Got it," she said with a little salute. "Sweet dreams, gunslinger."
Lord, help me, thought Hunter, and without another word, he backtracked to camp where he planned to sleep.
After ten minutes of lying there listening to Jebediah and Walt snoring up a storm, he knew a nap was out of the question. He was kidding himself if he thought the nostril thunder coming from his two old friends was keeping him from rest. He knew it was Helen, and she was right. Killing Montgomery had been his only objective, but now – because of her – surviving was back on the card table. He thought about this woman as he drifted off to sleep while waiting for the darkness to come.
Chapter Nineteen
The gunslinger managed less than two hours of sleep, waking an hour before sunset. Helen was lying next to him sound asleep; his shotgun was leaning up in the crook of a small scrub oak. He picked it up, broke it for inspection, then slid it into the side-sheath. He watched Helen sleep as he checked his revolvers. She looked so young, beautiful, and innocent lying there before him. Another time, another place, he thought he would love this woman, but right now he had unfinished business to attend to. He could not start a new chapter in his book of life until he had finished the last. He'd been stuck on this page way too long.
Hunter's thoughts were broken by the rustling sound of Jebidiah as he made his way into the clearing.
"Where's Walt?" asked Hunter.
"He's on watch. He took over for the little lady here, bout' an hour ago."
"It will be dark soon," stated Hunter as he loosened then tightened the belly strap on Zeke's saddle.
"Yep," said Jeb, "the horses are saddled and ready to ride."
"How 'bout you, Jebidiah? Are you and Walt up for this?"
"Son, Walt and I have fought side by side for twenty years. We've killed Indians, Mexes', and anyone else we had to. This is just another one of those times – and if it's our last, then so be it."
"Don't you worry 'bout us, gunslinger," said Walt as he appeared through the trees, leading his horse by the reins. "We'll cover our end."
The undeniable sound of a rifle being cocked forced the men to react with a quick turn of their heads.
"I'll babysit the horses," said Helen, with her chambered rifle in hand. "But if anyone gets in my sights, I'm takin' the shot."
Hunter did not argue, he just looked upon her, and for the first time he truly noticed the toughness within this beautiful woman. "All right then," announced the gunslinger, "we ride with the settin' of the sun."
They finished packing their horses and raked the camp. With no fire to bury, the chores went quickly. Hunter used the last remaining hour of sunlight to carve out some arrows for his bow. Five crude sticks in all, but they would have to do. Hunter went over the plan as they worked.
When there was nothing left to say, they mounted their horses and rode in silence to the east, Straight for Montgomery and the big house. Helen looked back to see the sun setting into the swamp, wondering if this would be the last time she would ever see this beautiful sight.
The sun went down, setting another day behind it making the earth and everything on it another day older; reminding men that death is a part of life. Tonight, many would die before their time in an insignificant battle in the southern swamps of no man's land. As the Civil War raged on over states' rights, in the United States that weren't so United, an unknown battle was about to take place.
It was a dark night, the moon and stars masked by cloud cover, giving them a slight advantage to carry out their plan. They left Helen with the horses on a rise eighth of a mile from the Montgomery house; she was hidden behind a band of large pine trees. The torches at the house were hardly seen from this distance, it would be the only light to be seen in any direction.
Helen had her rifle and a pistol loaned to her by Walt, along with Hunter's spyglass. Her job would be hard, only to wait and pray for her men to return. She panned nervously back and forth with the telescope as she tried to keep the departing men in sight through the darkness.
Jebidiah and Walt were heading to the northeast, circling around to the back of the compound, while Hunter was moving to the west toward the lake. Helen followed Hunter as the men split up and she cursed as she lost sight of him when he entered the thicket. She panned around with the scope finally setting her sights on the firelight coming from the house; as she waited, she said a little prayer.
Jebidiah and Walt were playing the waiting game in their newfound positions, a hundred feet apart from each other. They were just inside the tree line at the back of the house, near the same area where Hunter and Helen had fled from a few days earlier. At times, the two old coots were dangerously close to the guards who roamed the compound, but they managed to avo
id discovery by staying silent in their crouched positions while waiting for the signal.
Hunter made his way to the water's edge of Lake Okeechobee; he then cut his own path through the cattails 'til he found the spot he was searching for. From here, he could see the steamship, the main dock, and the well-lit boardwalk to the house. He could see three men on the dock and one on the stern of the ship manning the Gatlin' gun. His eyes followed down the long boardwalk to the house. Through the torchlight, he could see men armed with rifles on the balconies of all three levels.
Montgomery was nowhere to be seen, but with some insight from Helen, they figured he would most likely be held up on the second floor of the main house, surrounded by his men. Bodie and the boy planned to be close to Richard, with strict orders from Hunter to capture him if you can, but not to kill. Both man and boy agreed when they heard the signal, they would kill as many men as they could and leave Montgomery for the gunslinger to do with what he wanted.
Hunter removed his jacket and laid it to the ground on a dry spot along the bank. He unbuckled his gunbelt along with his extra ammo and set them, as well as the shotgun, on top of the jacket. He left his bow and arrows and stripped down to nothing but his fringed leather pants. The only weapon he took with him was the thirteen-inch Bowie knife tucked into his belt at the crook of his back. He waded out into the lake. The half-breed swam out past where the firelight from the dock could reach and quietly headed back toward the port side of The Miss Lilly.
Swimming underwater, he would pop his head up only long enough to take a breath and get his bearings. He did this several times 'til he reached the side of the ship. Hunter listened intently for any sound; then convinced there was no one close by, he shot up out of the water hands first, and grabbed the railing. Hanging from the steel bar, he now heard footsteps coming toward him. It was pitch black on this side of the ship with the wheelhouse blocking the light from the dock. Hunter hung there, perfectly still, as a guard walked by him no more than two feet away. All the man with the rifle had to do was look down to his left and he would see the gunslinger's hands grasping the rail.
Hunter held his breath as the thud of the boots faded away and there was nothing left but the sound of the wind on the lake. With one swift motion, Hunter pulled himself up and over the railing. Landing on his feet in a crouched position, water dripped from his body to puddle around his bare feet. He reached around and pulled the Bowie knife from his belt, stood, and headed toward the front of the ship.
When he reached the end of the wheelhouse, he heard the boot steps returning, so there he waited; five seconds went by. As the guard came around the corner, Hunter thrust the knife into his prey's throat. The man tried to scream, but could only manage a gurgling sound. Hunter laid the dying man on his back and removed the blade, the wood planks of the deck quickly turning red with blood. He left the body to twitch on its own and silently made his way to the stern of the ship.
Hunter heard a man snoring before he poked his head around the corner. Sleeping on a crate, he was leaning on the trigger handles of the Gatlin' gun. Hunter moved up behind the gunman. At once, the gunslinger slipped a hand over the man's mouth while piercing his side in an upward motion, the Bowie releasing blood from the kidney.
* * * * *
Helen could barely contain herself, and the slight headache forming from the constant use of the spyglass did not help. By moving and changing her angle at the tree line, Helen spotted Walt and farther down she finally found Jebidiah at his post. From her position, she could not see the steamship or the dock, meaning she had lost sight of Hunter.
* * * * *
Walt would have understood what Helen was feeling, for he was getting uneasy too, so much so he began mumbling to himself, "Come on half-breed, where the blazes you at?" And wishing Jeb was close enough to talk with.
Jebidiah was more patient then his two partners, but right now his anxiety level was at an all-time high. It had been a ways back since he had been in battle. He calmed himself down with thoughts of Walt, for he knew his friend was struggling more than he.
* * * * *
As Hunter's friends were fighting the emotions of their inactivity, he was right in his comfort zone and about to blow this whole thing wide open. The man on the second Gatlin' gun at the front of the ship didn't go down as easily as the first. This soldier had been wide awake and at the alert. Due to the red leg coverings that the gunman wore, Hunter would enjoy this kill.
He was a step away when the bearded northerner turned to face him. As they struggled, Hunter's knife was knocked to the floor. The man was strong and determined, but it would not be enough. The half-breed swiftly put a knee to his rival's abdomen creating separation, and then with an upward motion Hunter slammed the palm of his hand into the man's nose, shoving it into his brain and killing him instantly.
The skirmish had been loud enough to alert the three men on the dock, and they ran for the ship. Hunter grabbed the Gatlin' gun, slid the hammer back, and then pulled the trigger. The gun kicked loudly with tremendous power as the bullets tore through the three men, shredding their progress. A mixture of blood and wood splinters mingled in the air on the narrow catwalk as they went over the rail to rest in the mud.
The gunslinger swung the big gun up and over, his finger never leaving the trigger as the large caliber ammo ripped through the back of the main house, along with the guards who had nowhere to go. He managed to clear the balconies of all three floors before the rounds ran out, killing many, and at the same time sounding the signal.
Hunter James ran down the back deck of the ship, put his foot on the rail, and launched into a dive over the side, disappearing into the dark lake water with a splash.
The captain and two of his men arrived at the side of the steamship's rail less than a minute after Hunter hit the water. They searched for a target, their guns at the ready. There was a slight ripple left behind but it was not clear enough to merit a shot.
Hunter swam as far as he could straight out into the shadows of the lake. Turning under the water, he surfaced just enough to exhale and take a breath and a look. He could see the three men eyeing his direction, but they could not see him. He took some air, went back under, and swam in a straight line to the south; he popped up for another deep breath before changing direction once again and heading for shore.
From the shallows, he ran to his weapons he left on the bank. Massive gunfire could now be heard, coming from the house. He knew he must hurry, for Jebidiah and Walt were outnumbered and engaged in battle. Not bothering with his boots or wears, he strapped on his gunbelt, the side-shoulder holster with the shotgun, and lastly scooped up the bow and arrows not wasting a single motion. He swiftly made his way through the woods toward the sound of shooting and the main house.
* * * * *
Walt and Jebidiah tensely looked in each other's direction as the unmistakable sound of the Gatlin' gun began echoing through the swamp. Jebidiah was the first to fire; he cocked his rifle and killed a guard on the third floor balcony. Walt saw a man shoot in Jebidiah's direction; he aimed and fired, killing him from the bullet or the fall, as he went head first over the second story rail to the ground.
Two more men showed at the back, firing on Jeb. Bullets whizzed by his head and ricocheted off the trees he hid behind. Jebidiah wounded one, sending both men fleeing around the corner of the building.
Walt had his own battle going on with two others who rushed him at ground level. He shot from one knee hitting the closer of the two in the chest; the man went down. Walt cocked the rifle while swinging to his right and making a slight aim adjustment, then pulled the trigger; the old man's eyes widened when he heard the unforgiving click of his empty gun. Walt dropped his rifle and went for his pistol as the man fired hitting him in the shoulder.
Jebidiah heard Walt cry out; he couldn't see him, but he could see one of Montgomery's men barreling down on Walt's position. He aimed his rifle and shot the man in the cheek.
"Walt!" No an
swer. "Walt…! Answer me, dammit!"
"I'm all right, quit your bellowin'," grunted Walt.
"Are you hit?"
"In the shoulder... I'll live, but I ain't much use. I've got to git."
Their conversing was cut short as men fired upon Jebidiah from the south woods. "I'm a little busy right now," Jeb yelled in between shots.
At that moment, Helen appeared out of the brush on the Appaloosa and jumped down at Walt's side. She was helping him onto Zeke's back and taking fire.
Jeb finished off his immediate attackers and ran toward them, covering with gunfire as he went. He reached them quicker than his old ass thought possible, even killing one shooter on the run. Jeb helped them both into the saddle, smacking the horse on the butt and sending them off into the tree line. He turned in a panic, expecting to be overrun with men, but there was no one.
The concentration of the battle could now be heard coming from the lake side of the house. Jebidiah reloaded his rifle to its capacity and cautiously but swiftly headed in that direction.
Hunter had a total of five arrows he soon put to good use. He made his way from the lake to the tree line at the front of the house. The night remained very dark due to massive cloud cover blocking the light of the moon and stars. Hunter could see extremely well at night, taught to hunt in pitch-black conditions by the Indians of his youth. These men carelessly kept torches lit, up and down the catwalk from the house to the dock.
From behind a large cypress, the half-breed pulled back on his bow and loosed an arrow. It hit its target, in the side of one shooter's neck with only the duck feathers on the shaft keeping the arrow from exiting out the other side. The man fell with a thud on the boardwalk, dead.
Three men began firing blindly in the direction from which the arrow came; the cypress tree Hunter used for cover was being destroyed with bullets. He would have been pinned down if he was not already on the move. He moved toward the main house, continuously loading his remaining arrows, and letting them fly. He never slowed as he fired, keeping a deliberate pace; he aimed for the midsection of the gunmen, hitting one in the belly, another in the chest.
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