by B. S. Dunn
‘Ezra is busy so I’ll let him be,’ Martha told her husband and started dragging him towards the door. ‘Come on.’
Outside in the night sky, the silvery half-moon had no effect over the dimly lit streets of Buford. The spaced out kerosene lamps lit the boardwalks sporadically and left the alley mouths shrouded in an all-encompassing darkness.
The streets were pretty much empty which was a common occurrence of late, given the trouble and the death of the town’s previous sheriff. There was a slight chill in the air and Martha drew her shawl around her a little tighter.
As they approached the alley between the laundry and the assayer’s office, a lone figure emerged and stood at the edge of the shadows. Martha reflexively tightened her grip on her husband’s arm.
He sensed her tension and patted her gently on the hand. He said softly, ‘It’s fine.’
Then two more emerged and stood beside the other figure. When the Hamiltons were close enough, the man in the middle spoke. ‘Nice evenin’ for a walk.’
Hamilton instantly recognized the voice of Jordan Kane and fear began to course through his body. He hated himself for allowing it to happen but the fear was more for his wife and child than himself.
‘What. . . ?’ Hamilton cleared his throat. ‘What can I do for you, Sheriff?’
‘I want your daughter,’ Jordan said, devoid of emotion.
‘No!’ Martha gasped out and shielded Elsie with her body.
‘The hell you say,’ Hamilton managed to get out in an unsatisfactory act of defiance. ‘I’ll kill the first man who tries to touch her.’
The sheriff held up a hand. ‘Now before you go and do anythin’ stupid I’ll tell you this. Do as we say and no harm will come to your daughter.’
‘No harm will come to her because you ain’t goin’ to take her,’ Hamilton said as he took a step forward.
‘Cassidy,’ Jordan Kane snapped.
The biggest of the other two men stepped forward and a lightning fist snaked out and slammed into Brock Hamilton’s middle. The homesteader bent double as air whooshed from his lungs and he sank to his knees. The blow felt as though a mule had kicked him and he struggled desperately to breathe.
Hamilton heard his wife’s frantic scream and Elsie cry out for him. His head snapped up and he could make out the other man lifting a kicking and screaming Elsie from her feet and tucking her under his arm as one would a sack of flour.
Martha Hamilton lunged at the man in a desperate attempt to stop him from taking her child. The man batted her away with his free hand and she fell to all fours in the mouth of the dark alleyway.
A blinding rage overcame Brock and all sense of fear disappeared. He surged to his feet and his arms reached out for the throat of the man who had his little girl.
Thunder filled the night as flame erupted from the end of Jordan Kane’s right-side .45, lighting the alley for a brief instant. The bullet ploughed into Hamilton’s chest from the side and knocked him from his feet into a limp pile in the dirt at the edge of the boardwalk.
The last things he heard were his wife’s frantic screams and his daughter’s cry for help as she disappeared into the dark with her kidnapper.
Martha Hamilton tried to follow them but Jordan Kane and Cassidy blocked her path. As she tried to barge through, Jordan grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip and drew her close. He whispered harshly into her ear.
‘Find my brother Lucas,’ he ordered her. ‘Tell him to come to the minin’ shack. He’ll know where to go.’
‘And what if he won’t go?’ Martha asked between sobs.
‘You better hope he does,’ Jordan warned her. ‘Or you’ll never see your daughter again.’
Martha Hamilton’s right hand flew to her mouth at the thought of harm befalling Elsie.
‘Please don’t hurt her,’ she begged.
‘I guess that’s up to Lucas, ma’am, and how good you are at convincing him.’
Without further word the two men turned and disappeared into the darkness.
A low moan sounded from Brock Hamilton as the pain of his wound roused him back to consciousness.
‘Brock!’ Martha cried out and rushed to her wounded husband’s side.
‘Elsie?’ Hamilton gasped. ‘Where’s Elsie?’
Martha swallowed the large lump which had formed in her throat. ‘They took her, Brock. They took our little girl.’
Chapter 12
Lucas Kane had just poured a steaming-hot cup of black coffee when the shouted warning of a rider approaching filled the mist-shrouded morning.
His hand dropped to his Peacemaker and he stood from his seat beside the fire. The rattle of hastily discarded plates and cups filled the still morning air while on-edge settlers prepared once again for the unexpected. The thunder of hoofs grew louder.
Kane frowned as the rider emerged from the mist. It was a woman, but not just any woman. It was Martha Hamilton. From the looks of her flagging mount, something was seriously wrong.
The gunfighter threw down his cup as a wave of foreboding descended upon him. He walked out to meet her and before the horse had stopped, Kane could see the distraught expression on her face.
Martha Hamilton virtually fell from the saddle into his arms. She was a sobbing wreck and kept blubbering, ‘He’s got her. He’s got her.’
Kane took her firmly by the shoulders as more settlers gathered around.
‘Martha – stop,’ he ordered. ‘Tell me what’s happened.’
She stepped back and looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. Pain was etched all over her face and it took a brief moment for Martha to compose herself enough to speak.
‘It’s . . . it’s Elsie,’ she managed. ‘He took her and shot Br . . . Brock.’
‘Who, Martha?’ Kane asked calmly.
Martha Hamilton’s expression took on a dramatic change. Her eyes blazed and her face contorted as her built-up rage surfaced.
‘Your brother, damn you,’ she hissed. ‘Jordan shot my husband and took my little girl and it’s your fault.’
Martha lashed out and slapped him with an open hand. There was a resounding crack as the blow landed on his cheek.
Kane grabbed both of her arms before any follow-up blows could land.
‘Let me go!’ she shrieked. ‘Damn you!’
Martha struggled against his grip but it was no use. She couldn’t break free.
She sank once more into Kane’s arms and her body convulsed with a new onslaught of wracking sobs.
A muffled murmur rippled through the gathered crowd at what they’d seen.
The gunfighter gave the distraught woman a minute and when her crying had eased he moved her away from him and said, ‘Tell me what happened, Martha. And then I’ll go and get your little girl back.’
Martha Hamilton composed herself and started at the beginning and filled Kane in on the previous evening’s events. He stopped her when she mentioned the shooting of her husband again.
‘Is Brock still alive?’
‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘He was when I left. The doctor managed to get the bullet out. He said that if Brock survived the next day or so, he would be fine.’
‘Why did Jordy take Elsie?’
‘They want you to go to the mining shack, wherever that is. He said you would know.’
Kane nodded.
‘He also said that if you didn’t go, I’d never see Elsie again.’
‘You know that this could well be a trap, don’t you?’ Hughes spoke up. It was what they were all thinking but he was the one to give voice to it.
‘It is somethin’ I considered,’ Kane allowed.
‘Then do you think it’s wise to go there?’
Martha Hamilton clutched desperately at Kane’s arm. ‘But you must go. Please. If you don’t. . . .’
Her voice trailed away and Kane told her reassuringly, ‘I’m going, have no fear. And I’m goin’ to get Elsie back. Now get yourself some rest.’
‘I can’t, I have to get back to Broc
k,’ she protested.
‘Rest first,’ Kane said firmly. ‘Then somebody will go with you back to town to make sure you’re OK.’
He watched as Martha was led away by Rose Hughes toward the Hughes’ wagon.
Kane silently cursed Jordy for making it come to this. The situation had reached a point that he’d wanted to avoid by all means possible.
Now his hand was being forced and he knew that one brother was not going to survive the impending storm.
‘Take some of us with you.’ Hughes’ voice interrupted his thoughts.
Kane turned and looked at him. He shook his head and said, ‘No. It’s more than likely a trap for me, but it could be a ploy to get me out of the way so they can hit here. Either way I’m goin’. I owe that family for savin’ my life when I was shot.’
He rubbed absent-mindedly at the wound through his clothes. ‘And I’m goin’ to do everythin’ I can to save that little girl. I’m sorry but you’ll be on your own for a while.’
A middle-aged man Kane knew as Puller stepped forward.
‘You do what you need to do to get that little girl back to her ma, Kane,’ he stated. ‘We’ll be fine while you’re gone.’
Virtually as one, the remaining onlookers voiced their agreement to what had just been said.
‘Make sure you all remain vigilant,’ Kane reminded them.
Fifteen minutes later Kane rode out, headed for the shack.
The rider hidden in the trees on the ridge line watched as the woman rode into the homesteaders’ camp. He waited while events unfolded and then he watched Kane leave.
After which he turned his horse and headed back towards the B-L connected.
When Roscoe James rode into the ranch yard, Lance and Jordan Kane were waiting for him with ranch foreman, Chuck. He climbed down and strode across the hard-packed yard with purpose.
‘Well?’ asked Lance impatiently.
‘He rode out after he talked to the woman,’ James told him.
Lance looked across at his foreman. ‘Chuck, you know what to do. You need to keep him there all night without gettin’ yourself or any of the others killed.’
‘We can manage that,’ Chuck assured him.
‘Pull out just before the sun comes up,’ Lance told him. ‘Once he finds out what has happened, I’m more than certain he’ll go to town lookin’ for his brother. That’s where him and the others will be waitin’.’
‘What about the girl?’ Chuck asked.
‘We’ll keep her here until it’s all done,’ Lance told him.
Jordan knew that the ranch foreman had never liked the idea of taking Elsie Hamilton, but he’d held his tongue.
‘I’ll get gone then,’ Chuck said.
After the foreman had walked off, Roscoe James asked Lance, ‘Can we trust him to do his job?’
‘I’ve known that man for a long time,’ Lance told him. ‘He may not agree with what we did to that girl, but he’ll do what needs to be done. Rest assured.’
‘I hope so. The last thing we need is for Lucas Kane to appear in the middle of a gun fight to rally the homesteaders. At least, without him, they’ll have no organisation.’
Kane rode out of the trees and hauled back on the buckskin’s reins. He sat there and studied the shack. He immediately knew that something wasn’t right.
Firstly there was no smoke coming from the chimney. There were no horses in the corral and he could see no fresh tracks on the ground.
He reached down and drew an 1876 model Winchester from the saddle boot. The ’76 was chambered for a .45-.75 calibre cartridge and had enough stopping power to bring down a grizzly. On a man it was devastating.
Kane levered a round into the breech and sat there for a further five minutes, waiting and watching. When there was still no sign of life, he kneed the buckskin forward and approached the shack at a slow pace.
Hidden away in the trees and rocks to his left were the riders from the B-L connected. Chuck had told them to remain that way until he, and he alone, fired the first shot. They’d been threatened with a beating and being fired if they didn’t follow his instructions to the letter. Every man knew that Chuck was as good as his word.
‘What are we waitin’ for, Chuck?’ whispered a wiry cowhand.
‘We’re waitin’ for him to go inside,’ Chuck whispered harshly. ‘Now shut up.’
There were five of them in all. Cowhands, not gunmen, but they rode for the brand and every now and then they would draw fighting wages, such as they were now.
They waited and watched as Kane moved closer to the mining shack.
As Kane drew nearer the shack, he became absolutely certain that there was nobody here. It put him on edge. He scanned the tree line and was almost certain that he caught a glimpse of red clothing hidden away amongst the rocks to his left.
He made the decision to ride on. He was closer to the shack than the trees so it would be pointless to turn back now.
He braced himself for the inevitable but nothing happened. He drew up in front of the shack but still the day remained peaceful.
Once he’d dismounted, Kane kept the buckskin between himself and the tree line. He used it until he reached the doorway then slapped it hard on the rump.
‘Heeyaah!’ Kane shouted and the animal leaped forward and bolted away from where he stood.
With all his strength he hit the door with his shoulder. It flew wide and he disappeared inside.
As he suspected it was empty. Now he had a problem. He was trapped.
Kane edged his way over to the window and peered out. He studied the tree line and as he inadvertently moved out to get a better look, a rifle shot rang out.
The bullet hit a thin plank near the window which sounded like a hammer driving a nail into it. The slug punched through and sent splinters that flew dangerously around the small room.
Kane ducked back and cursed himself for being a fool. He was trapped with no idea how many men were out there. At least one that he knew of but he was certain there were more.
He peered out the window more cautiously this time. Whoever was out there was well hidden. He ducked into a crouch and moved to the window on the other side of the front door.
As he passed the open door, rifle fire opened up again. This time with three more shots.
All bored holes in the front wall up high. Kane dropped flat as two more shots rang out. These last ones came from a different rifle and the window he was headed for shattered, spraying glass everywhere.
The gunfighter tentatively rose to his feet and looked around the corner of the window frame and out through the now glassless window. At the edge of the tree line, Kane could make out the faint wisp of gunsmoke, giving away the position of at least one shooter.
The barrel of the Winchester ’76 slid over the sill and Kane thumbed back the hammer. He fired three times. Evenly spaced shots to see what kind of reaction he would get.
The response was immediate and the rifles in the tree line erupted in a violent fusillade of shots. This time, the gunfighter didn’t duck down. There was no need to. Once more, all shots went high.
‘Looks as though they want to keep me here but not kill me,’ Kane pondered.
He knew that would be Jordan’s doing. It also meant that his brother was not there or they would have come face to face by now.
Why lure him out here if they were going to ambush him and not kill him? The answer was simple. They wanted him out of the way to get at the homesteaders. A ploy, he guessed. Take the girl, send him on a wild goose chase and hit the settlers while he was out of the way.
And it had worked well. He was stuck in the shack with no way out.
The sun sank behind the high mountains and took all its warmth with it. The evening air was left with a cool chill. Kane had worked out that there were five men out there. He’d hit one for sure. The screams of the wounded man had echoed around the surrounding high country for at least a half hour before they’d died away. So he was either unconscious or dead.<
br />
Outside the shack, the remnants of daylight had turned the cold, pale grey colour of dusk that provided a muted illumination of the landscape just before full dark. The gunfire had ceased some time ago, but the men were still out there.
Kane found some tins of beans in a cupboard and used an old knife to open them, then ate them cold.
There was a lantern and firewood but he wasn’t about to use them because he wasn’t planning on being there long enough.
While he’d been waiting for dark, Kane had worked off some planks at the back of the shack. After it was completely dark he was going to venture out and take care of whoever was out there.
‘At least Clem is quiet now,’ the wiry cowhand said sounding relieved. ‘All that wailin’ was getting’ on my nerves.’
‘That’s because he’s dead, you dumb ass,’ Chuck whispered harshly. ‘Now, shut up and keep an eye out just in case Kane sneaks out of there.’
‘He ain’t goin’ nowhere and he knows it,’ the cowboy declared. ‘That’s why he ain’t bothered to shoot no more.’
Chuck ignored him. He wished he had his confidence but something told him that Kane wasn’t most men and by now he’d worked out the whys and wherefores of what was going on. And he would not take it lying down.
Somewhere in the darkness, a dry twig snapped. Chuck tensed and dropped his hand to the butt of his six-gun. He held his breath and waited.
‘Who’s there?’ a cowboy’s frightened voice asked. ‘Answer me.’
Suddenly the night was filled with the roar of guns and the flicker of muzzle-flashes. Chuck heard a man cry out in pain and felt hot air scorch his neck at the passing of a bullet.
Another cowboy screamed as he was shot in the belly, the bullet from the Winchester that Kane was using blew a huge hole in his back as it exited.
Chuck drew his six-gun and began to fire blindly. He fired two shots and heard a shout when one of his bullets found its mark.
The sound of gunfire died away and darkness enveloped Chuck once more. The only thing he could hear was the dry rasp of his own heavy breathing.
‘Doug, Hank, Willie, are you there?’ Chuck called warily. ‘Doug, Willie, answer me. Did you get him?’