Hunter James Dolin

by Bret Lee Hart

  One man retreated, running down the boardwalk for the house. Hunter stopped and dropped to one knee then let the arrow loose. It hit the man high in the back shoulder as he ran for the front door.

  Ten feet away from what he thought was cover, the door swung open and gunfire erupted from within. The arrow was no longer his concern as he was gunned down by his own. He fell backwards through a large puff of gun smoke, hitting the front porch with no less than twenty bullet holes gushing blood as the door was kicked shut violently.

  A little trigger happy, aren't yah, boys? thought Hunter. He figured there must be at least four men holed up behind that door. He didn't think Montgomery was among them; he would be deeper inside, probably keeping to the second floor.

  Helen had given him the low down on the entire building and he was convinced Richard would be in his quarters, surrounded by his best men, and, with any luck, his best men included Bodie and Birdie boy.

  Two men from the third floor balcony spotted the half-breed and opened fire.

  Hunter rolled from his knee and got behind a large pine as bullets whizzed by his head and littered the forest floor, much too close for his comfort. Montgomery's men had Hunter pinned down now, and they had the advantage from up above. Not to mention, he was in reach of the torchlight.

  "Come on out, half-breed son-of-a-bitch," yelled one of the riflemen, with a crazy cackle. "We ain't gonna' hurt yah." He then fired repeatedly.

  The bullets shredded the bark at the base of the tree where Hunter hid. He poked his head out very quickly to gauge the position of the shooter. As he did, another rifleman opened up on him; the splatter of tree bark stung his face.

  Hunter had one arrow left. From a standing position, he stepped out from behind the tree and loosed it. The feathered stick hit the cackling fool just above the heart. The man dropped his rifle as he clutched his chest and barrel-rolled head first over the third floor railing. If the shot hadn't killed him, the fall certainly did. He landed on his head, bending his neck in an unnatural way.

  "That'll shut you up," grumbled the gunslinger. He was so smitten with his handy work, he forgot to take cover – giving one gunman what he needed. Hunter was out in the open with an empty bow in his hand. The gunman aimed for his chest, a shot rang out. The bow fell from the gunslinger's hand, falling to the ground. Hunter jerked his head up to the roof were he saw a rifleman clutch his belly and stumble backward out of sight.

  "You're welcome," said a recognizable voice.

  Hunter, who had dropped the bow in favor of his Colt revolver, pointed it in the direction of the speaker.

  Jeb stood in the forest twenty feet to his right, his rifle in his left hand and a smoking pistol in his other.

  Hunter nodded in appreciation. "Where's Walt?"

  "He was hit, but he'll live. Helen took him back to the meet-up spot."

  "I'm goin in. You stay behind this tree and take out anybody you see, especially if they try to come in behind me."

  "What about this Bodie and his boy?" asked Jeb, "I don't know their look."

  "I suspect they're holed up on the second floor with Montgomery, playin' along. You just watch your ass, old man."

  Talk was not Hunter's strong point, so without giving Jebidiah time to reply, he was off. Running to the catwalk, he jumped up and slung himself over the rail all in one swift motion. He pulled one of the torches from its holder and speared it over the handrail to the wet ground, extinguishing it as it stuck into the mud. He turned on his bare heel and dashed down the walk, grabbing the last burning torch between him and the house.

  Walking straight for the front door, he drew the double-barreled shotgun from its sheath and one handedly pulled both triggers, blasting the latch. The door flew open, and in, breaking in half. Hunter tossed the torch through the opening and rolled head first along the porch floor, to the side of the doorjamb, just before the bullets flew.

  More men came running around the corners from both sides of the porch, from back to front. Jeb opened up on the two closest to his side from the woods, unloading his rifle until they were both dead.

  Hunter's Colt 44s thundered with smoke, as one man from the south fired upon him. The man did not expect the gunslinger to be firing from down low and he missed, aiming waist high the shots whizzed over Hunter's head. The gunslinger did not miss as his first bullet shattered the man's kneecap. As the man fell, the second lead ball went through his right cheek, exiting the back of his head with a spray of black.

  Hunter scanned left and then looked right as he quickly loaded the shotgun then his pistols. He could hear men on the other side of the wall hollering and fumbling around. The gunslinger stood; clutching the scattergun, he turned and walked with purpose through the front door opening. His eyes quickly skimmed the room.

  In the back area, two men were just finishing stomping out a small fire caused by the torch; they were unaware they had company. The two men to his right turned their heads to see the half-breed; eyes wide, they fired their revolvers. But they were hurried and one bullet whizzed an inch below Hunter's elbow, the other missing over the top of his right shoulder.

  Hunter pulled both triggers, blasting them with the shotgun; their backs hit the wall leaving it bloody as they slid down to the floor in a strange sort of slow motion. The gunslinger dropped to one knee, pulled his pistol, and fired five continuous shots, slamming the hammer with his palm. The two men who had been fighting the fire didn't get off a shot. When the smoked cleared, the gunslinger was the only one still breathing.

  He stayed down on his knee and methodically reloaded his Colts while he turned his head, looking over the entrances to the room and listening closely for the sound of intruders. Hunter released the revolver's lever, slid the pin, and replaced it with a reload. He had five full cylinders left in his belt, plus two others holding two bullets, one holding one bullet. He hoped he would not need to go to the partial reloads; if it came to that, it could be a short night.

  Hunter stood and took the five steps to where his shotgun lay. He bent over, picked it up, and broke it open, replacing the spent cartridges. His shoulder strap was half-filled with shells, which was good – but he didn't have his jacket with the inside pockets that held extras. The gunslinger didn't dwell on what he didn't have – he was just making his count – like any good soldier would.

  * * * * *

  Helen rode with Walt back to their safe zone and propped him up against a well-rounded pine tree for some doctoring. She'd already removed his shirt and was cleaning the wound by dumping whiskey on it and wiping around the edges with a rag of burlap.

  "Ooww! SON-OF-A-BIITCHH!" yelled Walt.

  "Take it easy, you big baby," said Helen. "It's just a scratch – well, its deep, but the bullet ripped clean through."

  "Give me that, girlie," groaned Walt, as he took the bottle from her and took a swig. "This rot gut is better used sterilizin' from the inside." Walt slammed the bottle back once again; the gulping sound could be heard through the skin of his throat.

  Helen grabbed the whiskey bottle from him in full tilt, spilling some on his mouth and chest.

  "HEY!"

  "Take it easy with that stuff, old man; I might need you if them scoundrels sniff us out back here."

  "You know," said Walt, "you're so purty, if I were a younger man..."

  "Save your energy, you flirt."

  "What you'd call me?"

  "Never you mind." Helen wrapped his shoulder with cloth she ripped from the hem of her skirt "Here, chew on this." She stuffed a wad of jerky into his mouth. "Don't swallow the meat, just the juice."

  With a mouth full of dried deer meat, Walt dozed off for some much needed rest.

  * * * * *

  "Hunter?" a whisper came from the doorway. "You still standin'?"

  The gunslinger turned towards the entrance. "Come on in, Jeb."

  Jebidiah stepped around and over the dead bodies as needed to get to Hunter's side. "I take it no one was up for surrenderin'?"


  "That was their undoing," said the gunslinger in a matter-of-fact tone.

  "Well, I saw three men ridin' east in a hurry. They weren't surrenderin', but retreat could add up to the same."

  There was suddenly the clomp of boot steps and scuffling coming from the second floor.

  Hunter pulled his pistols, cocking the hammers back with his thumbs. "I'm goin' up, Jeb. Clear this floor then meet me upstairs. And come in slow, but with purpose."

  Jeb nodded in agreement.

  Hunter headed quickly and quietly up the stairs, his bare feet completely silent on the wood steps covering his climb.

  Jebidiah carefully made his way down the hallway, sweeping the first floor for intruders with his Navy Colt out in front and his rifle cocked and ready in the other hand. "All right you sons-a-bitches," whispered Jeb under his breath, "I'm a comin'."

  Hunter reached the second floor hallway without incident. He moved to one of the closed doors where he was certain the sounds of struggle had come from. With a Colt in one hand and his Bowie knife in the other, he placed his ear to the wood. There was no sound; he took two steps back and kicked in the door, rushing in at the ready. In the middle of the large room stood Bodie and his boy, one on each side of Montgomery, their guns at his head.

  Hunter's steel blue eyes locked on Richard's for a moment. There was a wood rocker in the corner of the room. He took a few steps and stuck the Bowie knife into the arm of the chair making it rock just a bit. Hunter holstered his pistol and removed his gunbelt, setting it on the seat.

  "I knew you were a coward at heart, half-breed," sneered Montgomery. "Got these traitors to do your dirty work."

  "Bodie, back away," said the gunslinger as he returned.

  Bodie nor the boy put their guns away, but they did slowly back up to the corners of the room.

  Hunter was unstrapping the shotgun's side-shoulder holster when Jeb cautiously came through the doorway. He looked around the room, soaking it all in. "Hunter James, the first floor is clear, but there is still some men on the third, some on the grounds, and maybe on the roof."

  The gunslinger said nothing.

  "Just shoot him and let's git the hell outta here," Jeb suggested.

  "All in good time," replied Hunter. "Just watch my back so I can do what I came here to do."

  "Yeah, old man," said Montgomery, as he removed his jacket, then his button up shirt. "Do as you're told and when I kill this bastard Injun, I might let you live."

  Richard Montgomery was older than Hunter, but he was extremely fit and well made, as if carved from granite. Ruthless and full of evil, he had no fear of death.

  Hunter knew all this, but beating this man to death would help feed his hunger for revenge. Hunter did not fear death, either; he did not fear anything or anyone, but at this moment, a new concern crept into his mind – the concern of having no purpose at all.

  What will I do when Montgomery is dead? A flashback of Lilith being shot in the head by this man went vividly through his mind. He then thought of Helen who was waiting for him according to her words.

  Without another thought, Hunter took it to Montgomery.

  He was four steps away from the older and slightly taller man, but it only took him two steps to reach him because Montgomery was bringing it as well, closing the gap by taking two steps of his own.

  Their arms, fists, and elbows flailed and slapped with violent and blurring speed. First, Hunter pushing Richard back several steps, then Richard pushing Hunter back, back to the center of the room and to the beginning of the confrontation. They broke apart for a second, and then came at each other once again, same as before, but this time adding to their little dance, a vicious dance that neither man could decide which one should lead. Right away Hunter realized he underestimated this man, which was his mistake. Richard's arrogance was growing with his confidence, which could lead to his undoing.

  Hunter made his move then; he swept Montgomery's leg and connected with a left palm punch to the chest, putting him on his back. Richard bent his knees as Hunter came forward, with his boots in his chest he launched the half-breed backward to the other side of the room, making separation, and giving him time to get to his feet.

  Jebidiah was standing in the doorway, trying to watch the hall when he was not watching this amazing fight.

  Birdie boy was armed on one side of the large room; Bodie was holding his rifle, keeping one eye on the window and one eye on the fighters. Bodie's anxiety was building, for he could see men in the semi-darkness down below, surrounding the house. His attention was brought back to the room as Hunter and Montgomery slammed into the desk beside him in a grappling tussle filled with left hooks and overhead blows. There blood showing on both men's faces.

  A gunshot rang out; from Jeb shooting down the hallway toward the stairs. "Hunter!" yelled Jebidiah. "You need to quit screwin' around and finish this, we got comp—" He was cut short by the sound of a window shattering and there were now men firing from outside and down below.

  Bodie ducked and covered his face from the flying glass before he could return rifle fire.

  Richard Montgomery, with his back against the wall, reached down and grabbed his hidden boot knife. He brought it up and thrust down toward the gunslinger's face.

  Hunter quickly dodged to his right, grabbed Montgomery's wrist and shoved the knife into his upper abdomen. Hunter used his body weight to pin him harder against the wall. The gunslinger could feel Richard's strength leave his body with the warm blood from his stomach.

  "It can't be?" said Montgomery with a weakened voice, "I'm too young to die?"

  "So was Lilith too young," replied Hunter. The gunslinger reached his hand out, "Bodie," and glared down at his revolver. Bodie pulled his gun from its holster and tossed it to him.

  Hunter caught it; taking two steps back from Richard, he brought the gun up, pulling the hammer back with his thumb in one motion, and shot Montgomery in the head, splattering his brains all over the wall. Richard's body dropped to the floor. Hunter stood and stared down at the man that had absorbed his thoughts for too long. He waited to feel relief, or for something to fill the hole inside him, but there was nothing.

  He had forgotten where he was and who was around him, until his privacy was suddenly broken by the metallic sound of triggers, followed by shouting men. The sounds of the room went from muffled to loud as he let his mind return. Hunter turned on his heel and leveled the revolver on a feeling, but he did not fire, there in the doorway was Jebidiah with the captain holding him from behind in a one-armed bear hug, his Navy Colt at Jeb's temple.

  "Drop that hammer, gunslinger," demanded the one-eyed man.

  "I got a clear shot at your good eye, and I won't miss," Hunter warned.

  "I have no doubt of your skills, half-breed, but this Navy has a hair trigger. Now I think you need to back off three steps so we can talk."

  After a pause, Hunter backed up slightly in front and to the middle of Bodie, who stood to his left. Birdie was behind him and to his right. Both men had their rifles raised, aiming at the captain.

  "Easy, boys, not just yet," said the gunslinger.

  The captain pushed Jebidiah further into the room, keeping him close. As soon as they cleared the doorway, two of the captain's men armed with revolvers entered quickly and fanned out, one on each side. The room suddenly got very small.

  "Looks like we have ourselves a Mexican standoff," said the captain.

  "Problem is," said Bodie, "there ain't no Mex'es in here."

  "Maybe not, but there's plenty of Spanish gold in here, and that's what I'm after."

  "That's our gold, you pirate son-of-a-bitch," yelled Birdie boy.

  "Easy, Bird," said Bodie.

  "That's right, boy, take it easy," replied the captain. "Well, it seems we all want the same thing, that gold in the other room." He then looked to the gunslinger with his one eye wide.

  "What about you, Dolin, what do you want?"

  "I got what I came for," said Hunter plain
ly. "Now, you're gonna let that man go. Y'all can split the gold, I really don't give a shit, but me and the old man are gonna walk out a here – or I'm gonna kill everyone in this room. My patience is growin' thin."

  Jebidiah was impressed; he couldn't remember Hunter ever saying so much at one time. He did like the part where they walked out of there in one whole piece.

  The captain looked to Bodie. "What do you say to that, Bode?"

  "Whatever this man says is all right by me. What about them two?" Bodie's eyes, along with the end of his rifle, motioned toward the captain's men.

  "They will do as I say. I will be taking the steamer and half the gold."

  Bodie nodded in agreement, but he did not lower his weapon. Neither did anyone else in the room.

  "How do we start?" asked the captain.

  Jebidiah spoke up, the sound of irritation clear in his voice, "We start by gittin your pistol barrel off my head."

  The captain released Jebidiah, allowing him to pick up his rifle from where he had been forced to drop it. He kept it to his side as he plopped down on the only chair still upright in the room.

  "What about them?" called Birdie from one of the broken windows. "There's still a hand-full of armed men down there."

  "What are they up to?" asked Bodie.

  "Nuthin' much, just standin' at the ready."

  "May I?" asked the captain.

  Hunter nodded in agreement.

  The captain holstered his pistol, his men did not. He went past them and entered through an archway that led into the other room. After a minute of rustling around, he returned with a wooden box, struggling with the weight of it as he walked it to the window. He kicked away the remaining glass and stepped out onto the balcony.

  "All right men, you know who I am. Richard Montgomery is dead so that means your hire is done. This will cover any back pay owed to you. Take any horses, food and supplies, and move on."

  The captain heaved the wood box and dropped it over the handrail. It hit the muddy ground with a thud and broke open, gold coin poured out the seams. The gunmen rushed over to the spot and began filling their pockets and satchels with the Spanish treasure.