by B. S. Dunn
Cows, horses, and chickens they’d brought with them were targets.
Hughes could hear one man clearly shout orders. As he peered out, he could make him out amongst the phalanx of riders. The man was dressed completely in black; apart from the hood that he wore.
He saw the rider take deliberate aim at a homesteader trying to shield his young daughter. Without a second thought, Hughes fired the Winchester at him but missed badly. The shot lanced through the neck of the rider’s horse, just below the mane. The sudden pain caused the horse to rear up and throw off the man’s aim.
Hughes heard the killer curse loudly then shout orders to the other riders.
As quick as they had come, they were gone. They left in their wake a knot of crying women and children, as well as the wounded, dying and dead.
‘Will it work?’ Buford Lance asked as he sipped whiskey from a crystal tumbler and leaned back in his comfortable chair.
Jordan Kane shrugged. ‘It may take more.’
‘Well, we’ll just hit ’em again,’ Lance said with finality. ‘And again and again, until they get the message or they are all dead. What about the men you hired?’
‘They’re at the old minin’ shack you said to use,’ Jordan told him. ‘One of ’em was wounded but he’ll be fine.’
Lance nodded. ‘Good. I have another job for you and I want it done tonight.’
‘OK.’
‘I’ve come to the conclusion that I want all of the homesteaders gone. Even the ones who are established.’ Lance let his words sink in before he continued. ‘I intend to buy or try to buy them out at my price. But before I make any offers to them I want them to understand the ramifications if they refuse.’
‘So what is it that you want me to do?’ Jordan asked.
Lance took another sip of whiskey, put the glass down and stood up. He crossed to the map on the wall.
‘Let me show you. . . .’
Three bullets punched into Kane from the flaming barrel of the Colt Peacemaker. Every impact jarred his body and sent bolts of pain through him. He could taste the blood in his mouth as his lungs filled, every breath became shallower and shallower.
Kane felt the strength start to ebb from him and he sank to his knees. The six-gun became too heavy, fell from his grasp, and thudded into the dust of the street.
His vision began to blur and Kane could feel himself cant forward. He fought for breath but his lungs were almost full of blood and the air came in short sips.
The all-consuming blackness began to rush towards him and he felt himself fall forward and hit the ground.
With his dying breath he whispered, ‘Why, Jordy?’
Kane came awake with a start. He’d had this particular dream before and knew that he would again.
He looked about the barn. Everything was in darkness. He’d moved out of the house the day before to make the Hamiltons feel more comfortable. If it had been up to him he would have moved on but Martha had insisted that he was still recuperating and not yet fit to travel.
Kane would not complain however as she was a wonderful cook and he hadn’t eaten so well in a long time. The sheriff also wanted to see him before he rode on.
The smell of fresh hay filled his nostrils as he rolled on to his side and looked at the small slivers of silver moonlight that filtered through the cracks in the wall boards. Maybe he’d leave in a couple more days. Maybe?
Kane heard the buckskin snort and stomp his hoof out in the side corral. He froze as his ears strained to hear.
The horse made another noise and Kane said in a voice loud enough for the horse to hear, ‘Keep it down. I’m awake.’
The horse went still and Kane listened intently.
At first, Kane could hear nothing and almost dismissed it, thinking that the buckskin was being its usual self. As he continued to listen, a dull rumble began to drift inside the barn.
Horses.
Kane pulled his boots on and climbed to his feet. He buckled on his Peacemaker and moved cautiously to the barn door.
By the time he reached it, the thunder of hoofs had grown louder and the snorts of hard-ridden horses were easy to hear.
Kane peered around the edge of the door and saw the outline of many riders as they approached the farm. The sight of what they carried turned his blood to ice.
Flaming torches. It was obvious that these riders intended to burn the Hamiltons out. With what he owed them for saving his life, he determined to try and prevent that from happening. Yes, he owed them at least that much.
Chapter 5
The riders thundered into the yard and shouted loudly. One of them rode up to the front of the house with a flaming torch and was about to project it on to the roof when a voice cracked like a whip and stopped him mid-throw.
‘Let that thing go and I’ll kill you!’ Kane called out.
‘What the hell?’ exclaimed another rider.
Kane walked out into the moonlight where he was clearly visible, his cocked Peacemaker unwavering in his fist.
‘Who the hell are you?’
Kane noticed that each of them wore hoods to hide their identities.
‘I’m the feller who’s goin’ to kill you if any of you cowardly sons of bitches make a wrong move,’ he said calmly.
‘There’s six of us,’ the rider pointed out.
Jordan had left the wounded man plus two others back at the miner’s shack. He’d figured that he wouldn’t have much trouble with the straightforward job of burning out a homesteader.
‘That’s fine,’ Kane replied. ‘I have six bullets. One for each of you.’
The rider cast a glance to the hooded figure beside him who Kane figured for the man in charge.
There was a hushed whisper then a heavy silence. When the man’s body language changed Kane prepared for what was about to happen.
The man snarled a savage curse and threw the torch to the ground. It was a decoy move, totally designed to distract the gunfighter’s attention and later, Kane would curse himself that it worked.
When it hit the ground and flared up, the leader of the night riders drew his six-gun and fired.
Kane felt the slug singe the skin of his neck as it passed close. He dived to his right and came up on one knee. His Peacemaker roared to life.
He missed his intended target as another rider was in the way and the bullet took him in the shoulder. The wounded rider cried out in pain and grabbed at his saddle horn.
More guns opened up and Kane was forced to lunge through the open barn doors in retreat. He glanced around the door frame and saw a hooded rider throw a torch on to the farmhouse roof.
Kane watched as the flames began to take hold of the dry shingle roof. He flinched when a bullet gouged splinters from the door frame of the barn. A sliver scored his cheek and drew a thin line of blood.
He fired a rewarding shot at the rider and watched him fall from the saddle.
The gunfire intensified and bullets hammered into the woodwork of the barn.
A rider came forward and threw his torch through the open loft door – the hay caught quickly and began to burn fiercely above Kane’s head.
As the man retreated, Kane shot him. Now there were four, and one of them was wounded.
A rifle opened up from the house and another man fell from his horse.
They were caught in a cross-fire.
Kane stepped out into the yard from inside the barn and fired at a rider who was fighting to bring his frightened horse under control.
The bullet from the Peacemaker blew the top off his head, and sprayed blood and gore over the man nearest him.
It proved to be enough and the two remaining riders sawed on the reins of their mounts and rode them hard out of the yard.
Kane turned his attention to the burning house and saw Hamilton, his wife and daughter spill out the door. Hamilton still clutched the rifle he had used.
Once in the middle of the house yard they stopped and looked about. Hamilton dropped the rifle and put his
arms around his tearful family. Together they watched as their dreams burned to the ground.
‘What the hell happened?’ Lance fumed.
‘My brother,’ Jordan replied.
Lance started. ‘What?’
‘Lucas was there.’
‘What was he doin’ there?’ Lance snapped.
Jordan bit back an angry retort. ‘How should I know? Would you like me to go back and ask him?’
Lance waved the question away. ‘No, no.’
‘Besides, we got the job done anyway.’
‘And lost half of the men you hired,’ Lance blustered again.
The gunfighter shrugged coldly. ‘They knew the risks.’
Lance nodded. Beneath the surface, he still roiled. He’d been assured that Lucas Kane was dead.
‘What do you want done next?’ Jordan asked him.
‘We wait and see what happens,’ Lance answered. ‘Then if it don’t work, we hit ’em again.’
As the wagon rumbled along the main street of Buford the following morning, the Hamiltons looked a sorry sight.
Unable to save anything, they were dressed in their night clothes and the townsfolk who walked the wooden planks of the boardwalk stared at them openly.
Kane rode beside them on his buckskin and felt their pained embarrassment.
In the back of the wagon, hidden from view under a tarp were the bodies of the raiders from the night before.
Hamilton stopped the wagon outside of the Buford boarding house. He climbed down stiffly then helped his wife and daughter.
As he watched them walk inside under the curious gazes of the bystanders, Kane said, ‘Go with them, Brock. I’ll take care of the wagon.’
Hamilton stared at Kane, his mind still numb from the previous night’s events. He shook his head. ‘No. I need to see the sheriff.’
‘I’ll take care of it,’ Kane assured him. ‘Go and look after your family. If the sheriff wants to see you he’ll come callin’.’
Hamilton’s gaze fell on to the wagon and its grisly unseen cargo.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah.’
Kane watched him go. He tied the buckskin behind the wagon then climbed into the seat. He moved the wagon further down the street and pulled up in front of the undertaker’s false-fronted parlour.
The hawk-faced man must have had a sixth sense for dead bodies because he appeared at the top of the boardwalk before Kane had a chance to step up.
‘My name is Merrill, sir,’ he introduced himself. ‘How can I help you?’
Kane cast a thumb over his shoulder and said, ‘There are four dead men in the back of the wagon. They’ll need takin’ care of.’
Merrill raised his eyebrows, surprised. ‘Four?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Ahh, who’ll be paying for them?’ the undertaker stammered.
‘Buford Lance,’ Kane replied without hesitation. He was certain that the rancher was behind it.
‘Very well.’
‘Is it possible to get someone to clean out the wagon too?’ the gunfighter asked. ‘It’s a little messy back there.’
‘Weelll. . . .’ Merrill hesitated.
‘I’ll pay for it,’ Kane assured him.
‘It’ll be taken care of.’
‘Thanks.’
Kane tied the buckskin to the hitch-rail outside the jail and walked across the boardwalk to the door. He turned the handle and pushed his way through the opening.
Inside, he found Brooks talking to another man. The expressions on their faces were very serious and Brooks was a little surprised to see that it was Kane who entered.
‘It’s started,’ Brooks said flatly.
‘I know.’
Brooks looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean you know?’
‘There was a bunch of riders hit the Hamilton place last night,’ Kane explained. ‘I just rode into town with ’em.’
Brooks’ face showed concern. ‘Are they OK?’
‘In a fashion,’ Kane allowed. ‘They lost their home and their barn though. The riders burned ’em.’
‘Damn it. They weren’t hurt in any way?’
Kane shook his head. ‘No. But between me and Hamilton we gave ’em somethin’ to think about. They rode in with six and left four behind. Their bodies are over at the undertaker’s.’
‘They hit us yesterday,’ the other man in the room said.
Brooks gestured to him and introduced them. ‘This is Ernest Hughes. He arrived yesterday with the homesteaders. They were hit in the afternoon. They lost three men dead and some others were wounded. Hughes, this feller is Lucas Kane.’
Kane’s grim expression said it all as he looked at Hughes. The recognition was evident in the homesteader’s face. ‘Were they wearin’ hoods?’
Hughes nodded. ‘Yes. They just swept down off a hill overlookin’ our camp and came in shootin’ recklessly. They shot our stock, including the chickens. We’re just thankful none of the women and children were hurt.’
‘Apparently the feller leadin’ ’em wore black,’ Brooks put in. ‘Anyone spring to mind?’
‘It don’t take a genius to figure it out,’ Kane allowed.
‘Who?’
Both Kane and Brooks turned to Hughes. It was the sheriff who answered.
‘Jordan Kane.’
The change on Hughes’ face was visible. ‘You mean the. . . ?’
‘Yeah,’ said Brooks.
The homesteader’s eyes flicked to Kane. ‘But your last name is. . . .’
The gunfighter nodded. ‘Yeah.’
‘So what. . . ?’
‘He’s my brother,’ Kane filled in.
‘Oh lord,’ Hughes whispered.
‘The problem is that nobody saw their faces so it can’t be proved in a court of law,’ Brooks pointed out.
‘Then how do you actually know that it was your brother?’ Hughes asked.
‘Because I was brought here to do the job that he started yesterday,’ Kane told him evenly. ‘See that you homesteaders don’t stay.’
Hughes’ eyes snapped across to Brooks, who nodded.
‘But what about the law? We have that on our side. The land we intend to settle on is ours. We have legal title to it.’
‘That’s only if you live there for five years and improve it,’ Brooks pointed out.
‘And the feller who wants it back aims to see that you ain’t there that long,’ Kane added. ‘Law or no law.’
Brooks walked around behind his scarred hardwood desk and sat in his chair. He thought for a moment before he looked up at Hughes.
‘Go back to your wagons,’ the sheriff told him. ‘All of you stay grouped together for a few days and I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Sheriff, we didn’t come all this way. . . .’ Hughes’ voice trailed off as Brooks held up a placating hand.
‘Just give me a few days.’
‘Well, OK then.’
The two men watched Hughes leave and when the door was shut, Kane turned to Brooks.
‘What are you aimin’ to do?’
Brooks stood up and moved to a small pot-bellied stove where a coffee pot simmered.
‘Coffee?’ he asked, dodging the question.
‘Sure, why not?’
Kane watched as he poured two mugs of the steaming-hot black liquid.
Brooks handed him a mug then pointed at a spare chair. ‘Take a seat and let’s talk some.’
Kane sat down and took a sip of the bitter coffee.
‘Did you recognize any of them fellers you brought in?’ Brooks inquired.
‘Only one. A gunman named Kemp. Had a name for workin’ outside the law.’
‘I’ve heard of him,’ the sheriff allowed.
‘What are you goin’ to do?’ Kane asked again.
‘I was hopin’ to give you a job.’
Chapter 6
Kane laughed. ‘You can’t be serious?’
Brooks shrugged his shoulders.
‘Hell,’ Kane curs
ed. ‘You are serious.’
Brooks sat forward in his seat. ‘Damn right I’m serious. Do you really think I can do this on my own? I’ll get burned down quick smart if I try goin’ up against your brother.’
‘What about the marshals?’
‘It’d be all over by the time they arrived.’
‘So you want me to take the job and go up against my own brother,’ Kane guessed.
‘No, not quite,’ Brooks said unconvincingly. ‘I think with you on the other side of the fence, Jordan might think twice.’
‘Well I hate to poke holes in your theory, Brooks, but I’m pretty sure it was my brother who put a bullet in me.’
‘I need your help, Kane,’ Brooks pleaded. ‘I can’t do it on my own. I ain’t good enough.’
‘No, sheriff, I plan on ridin’ out just as soon as I see that the Hamiltons are fine.’
‘What about next time?’
‘What about it?’
‘What happens the next time those riders hit the homesteaders?’ Brooks asked him. ‘You know they ain’t goin’ to leave. What happens when the shootin’ starts up again? Maybe a woman gets shot or, heaven forbid, a child catches a stray bullet?’
Kane was silent.
‘What if next time it’s the Hamilton’s little girl?’
Kane knew he was right. He didn’t want to think about it, but Brooks was right.
‘Hell,’ Kane muttered. ‘You talk a good fight, Brooks, I’ll give you that. You know at the end of all this that I’m goin’ to have to go up against my brother don’t you?’
Brooks nodded sombrely. ‘Yeah, it is almost certain. But he’s a killer. Plain and simple. You and I both know it.’
In a way, Kane had always known the time would come when he’d have to face Jordy over smoking Colts. Even though he didn’t want to. But Jordy would never let it go because he wanted to be the best.
‘What is it that you want me to do?’
‘Go and see if you can track them hooded riders back to whichever rock they crawled out from under,’ Brooks told him. ‘There were nine of ’em that hit the homesteaders’ wagons and you killed four you say last night?’