Brothers of the Gun

by B. S. Dunn

  ‘They’re all dead,’ came Kane’s voice from the darkness. ‘You killed the last one.’

  ‘Damn you,’ Chuck cursed and squeezed the trigger on his six-gun.

  The roar of the shot filled the night and the orange flame that spouted from the gun’s barrel illuminated the darkness.

  The echoes died away and Kane’s voice spoke calmly. ‘Where’s my brother?’

  Chuck’s gaze flicked left and right as he tried to pin-point the exact location of the voice.

  ‘He’s gone after the settlers with the others.’

  ‘Where’s the girl?’ Kane asked.

  ‘Where you sure as hell can’t get her,’ Chuck snarled and fired once more, missing his intended target in the confusion of the dark.

  This time, Kane fired back and the .45-.75 slug punched into Chuck’s chest, tunnelled through and destroyed everything in its path then exploded out his back in an unseen spray of blood.

  The B-L connected foreman grunted in surprise and collapsed into a heap on the damp earth at his feet.

  Out of the blackness came Kane’s voice one final time. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that.’

  Chapter 13

  Roscoe James emerged from the curtain of darkness, wiping the blade of his knife on his sleeve.

  The moon was up now which cast a dull silvery glow over Cottonwood Creek and the homesteaders’ camp below.

  ‘Damn fool sodbuster was asleep,’ James snorted. ‘I could’ve blown a damn bugle and he still wouldn’t have heard me comin’.’

  ‘Mount up and let’s earn our money,’ Jordan Kane said.

  The five men drew their guns and moved their mounts out of the trees to start down the slope of the hill. Below them, all appeared quiet, but it wouldn’t be for long.

  If it had been daylight, things would have been quite different. At night, however, even with the moon up and at this pace, the trail was treacherous. A couple of times the buckskin had stumbled and almost fallen, but the animal had managed to gather itself and kept going.

  Kane urged it on but knew full well that he would be too late to stop what was planned.

  A deep rumble brought Hughes awake. His first thought was a storm but he realized that the noise he judged to be thunder was constant.

  He frowned. Still half-asleep, it took a little longer for his foggy mind to process what his ears could hear.

  By then it was too late.

  The night was rent with the sound of gunfire. It was closely followed by cries of alarm, screams of women and children and the sound of dying.

  Hughes rolled out of his bedroll and scooped up his rifle. On the far side of the camp muzzle flashes lit the night as gunfire rang out in its staccato rhythm.

  ‘Ernest! What’s happening?’ Rose Hughes’ fearful cry reached her husband’s ears through the din.

  ‘Get under the wagon and stay there,’ he called back. ‘Don’t come out.’

  The gunfire grew closer and horses thundered by him, so he was forced to dive on to the damp grass and out of the way. Behind him he heard the muffled scream of a settler as the charge mowed them down.

  Hughes climbed to a knee and lifted the rifle. He sighted down the barrel and squeezed the trigger. The gun slammed back against his shoulder and flame spewed from its muzzle.

  He cursed as his shot flew wide and fired a second for the same result as the riders disappeared into the night beyond the camp firelight. Hughes could hear the riders yelling to each other and realized they were turning around for another run.

  Once more the riders stormed out of the darkness with the advantage of the settler’s campfire illuminating targets. Their guns erupted and a new storm of lead filled the air.

  Hughes felt a slug tear at his jacket and another cracked loudly as it passed close to his head. Instinctively Hughes ducked then regained some composure and jacked another round into the breach of the Winchester.

  He swung the rifle up at the oncoming riders and fired in their direction, levered in a new round and fired again.

  An anguished cry came from one of the riders who leaned sideways in the saddle. The wounded rider straightened up and kept on riding.

  He surprised Hughes by angling his mount towards him. A straight line course that would bring him into direct contact with the settler.

  Hughes frantically worked the lever of the rifle and fired as fast as he could. All of the shots went wide and then the hammer fell upon the empty chamber.

  Fear filled Hughes as the rider thundered towards him. The killer’s gun sounded twice and Hughes felt the impact as both bullets struck him.

  The homesteader dropped the rifle as all of his strength ebbed. He sank slowly to his knees as the rider galloped past him, close enough to reach out and touch.

  Hughes struggled to breathe as his lungs started to fill with blood. He could feel it welling up in his throat. He coughed and tried to clear it so he could draw another breath.

  Somewhere he heard Rose calling his name. I just need a minute, Rose, he thought and then I’ll be there.

  Exhaustion enveloped him and his eyes started to close. Just a little nap, Rose and then I’ll be fine.

  Hughes felt no pain, just an all-pervading numbness. His breaths grew shallower and shallower then he canted to the right until he lay on the churned-up grass.

  A couple more shallow gasps were all he could manage, though he was oblivious to the death that surrounded him.

  Kane crested the hill on the foam-flecked buckskin and hauled back on the reins. The scene that greeted him from below was one of utter devastation. Burned-out wagons, bodies laid out in a row and settlers milling about, totally numb from the shocking attack of the previous night.

  Kane cursed under his breath and steeled himself for what was to come before he rode down from the hill. He knew it was bad, he could see as much from his position. He just hoped it wasn’t as bad as he feared.

  He kneed the buckskin forward at a slow walk. Several of the homesteaders turned and saw his approach but showed no reaction to his presence.

  Puller emerged from a group near a burnt-out wagon. He met Kane at the edge of the camp. Pain was etched all over the man’s face.

  ‘How many?’ Kane asked solemnly.

  ‘Ten,’ Puller said in a low voice. ‘The girl?’

  Kane shook his head. ‘She wasn’t there. They just wanted to get me out of the way. They bottled me up in the shack. I tried to get back here as fast as I could.’

  ‘It ain’t your fault,’ Puller told him.

  Kane looked about then asked Puller, ‘Hughes?’

  The homesteader moved his head in the general direction and said, ‘Over there.’

  Kane glanced across to where Puller had indicated and saw only bodies. He looked back and gave him a questioning look.

  The man nodded.

  Kane dropped his gaze for a moment then climbed down from his horse. He walked across to the line of bodies and saw the man he looked for.

  Laid out between an elderly man and his own wife, was Ernest Hughes. He looked pale and peaceful, his front covered with dried brown blood. Rose Hughes looked just as peaceful, even with the dark hole in the centre of her forehead.

  Kane turned away, his teeth clenched and his jaw set firm. It was all he could do to keep his deep rage in check.

  He looked at Puller and asked, ‘How many were there?’

  ‘Five,’ the homesteader answered. ‘I think Ernest might have winged one before he was killed. His wife was found under their wagon.’

  Kane turned to walk away and Puller stopped him.

  ‘Where are you goin’?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m goin’ to town.’

  ‘On your own?’ Puller questioned. ‘If you wait until we bury our dead some of us will come with you.’

  Kane shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he said with finality. ‘This is what I do. Besides, you people have already lost enough.’

  Pent up anger flared in Puller. ‘They were our
people, damn it.’

  ‘And he’s my brother,’ Kane snapped. ‘He wanted a showdown and now he’s goin’ to get it. It should’ve happened before now but I thought I could avoid it. All it achieved was the deaths of so many innocent people and a little girl kidnapped. And by hell it’s goin’ to stop.’

  Puller went to add more but remained quiet when he saw the cold look in the gunfighter’s eyes.

  ‘If I get killed, leave,’ Kane ordered.

  The homesteader’s eyes grew wide. ‘What? After all we’ve been through you’re tellin’ us to give up? People fought and died for this land and there is no way in hell that they’ll leave.’

  ‘If you don’t go, they’ll bury the rest of you here,’ Kane told him bluntly. ‘Go and come back with some real law. If you don’t, more of you will die.’

  The gunfighter didn’t wait for Puller to speak. He turned on his heel and strode off towards his played-out mount.

  ‘Kane!’ Puller called after him.

  Kane turned around.

  ‘At least, let me get you a fresh horse.’

  ‘That would be good,’ Kane allowed. ‘Thanks.’

  Ten minutes later the gunfighter left the devastation of the homesteaders’ camp astride a big chestnut horse that Puller had given him.

  Chapter 14

  Kane eased the powerful animal down to a walk as he hit the outskirts of Buford. Once the horse had slowed enough, he pointed it towards a solid-looking hitch-rail outside Sigurd’s blacksmith shop.

  Sigurd emerged while Kane was tying the horse to the rail. He was a big man with blond hair. The sleeves on his shirt had been torn off exposing large muscles in his arms.

  He looked at Kane. ‘You are here for them, ja?’

  Kane nodded. ‘Yeah.’

  The big man shook his head solemnly. ‘It is a bad thing they did. It is not right for them to do this.’

  ‘Where are they?’ the gunfighter asked as he took the Winchester from the saddle boot.

  Sigurd looked surprised. ‘You do this alone?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Kane said patiently. ‘Where are they?’

  The big man shrugged. ‘Maybe the jail.’

  He pulled out a six-gun he had tucked in his belt. The size of it compared to his hand seemed awfully small.

  ‘I help,’ he said taking a step forward.

  ‘No.’

  ‘But there are five of them.’

  ‘So folks keep sayin’.’

  Kane walked off and left Sigurd standing there scratching his head.

  It was a slow walk along the main street of Buford. The sun was high in the sky and threw short shadows. Townsfolk watched cautiously as he passed then they quickly disappeared from sight. They knew what was coming. Word had spread like wild-fire about the previous night’s happenings on the Cottonwood Creek range.

  Kane’s eyes darted left and right taking everything in. His right hand rested on the butt of the Peacemaker, the hammer thong had been flipped off earlier. In his left hand, Kane held the Winchester, leant back on his shoulder.

  A fully laden freight wagon trundled along the street drawn by two mules, so he was forced to walk further to the left while it passed. A lone rider took one look at Kane then turned his horse around and rode in the opposite direction.

  Kane spotted two women who stood talking on the boardwalk outside of the drapery. Both turned in his direction and he recognized Martha Hamilton straight away. The other woman he had never seen before.

  Martha Hamilton ended the conversation abruptly, stepped down from the boardwalk and hurried across to the gunfighter.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked worriedly. ‘Where’s Elsie?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Martha,’ Kane apologized. ‘She wasn’t there.’

  Tears welled in her eyes and her bottom lip began to tremble.

  ‘Well, where is she, damn it?’ she flared.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he explained softly. ‘But as soon as I find out I’ll tell you.’

  Through tear-filled eyes she stared at him then her expression changed when she realized what he was about to do.

  ‘Oh God. You’re going down there to face them, aren’t you?’

  ‘It has to be done.’

  ‘But he’s your brother,’ Martha reminded him, placing a slender-fingered hand on his arm.

  ‘Jordan ceased to be my brother when he and that bunch of his killed Ernest Hughes and his wife last night, along with eight others,’ Kane said flatly.

  ‘But what about Elsie?’

  ‘She’s just a pawn in the whole scheme of things,’ Kane assured her. ‘They won’t hurt her. They got what they wanted.’

  Kane stepped around her and continued his walk towards what some would see as fate.

  Ahead of him, word had spread and the street was empty. The bat-wing doors of the Nugget saloon swung open with a high-pitched squeak which caused Kane to turn in that direction. His Peacemaker was halfway out of its holster before he stopped himself.

  ‘Gettin’ a might jumpy of late, Lucas,’ Rio Smith said as he stepped down off the boardwalk into the street.

  ‘What in hell are you doin’ here?’ Kane asked.

  ‘We thought you might be needin’ some help,’ Rio explained.

  ‘We?’

  A young man stepped out into clear view from behind Rio.

  ‘More him than me,’ the young man said enthusiastically. ‘But I sure wasn’t goin’ to miss this.’

  Kane raised his eyebrows at Rio.

  ‘He’s a might over eager but he’s fast,’ Rio told him. ‘I heard Jordan was in town?’

  ‘You heard right,’ Kane nodded. And then, ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Calls himself Utah,’ Rio told him. ‘Word is that Jordan’s got four other guns with him.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘If I haven’t missed my guess, I’d say you’re on your way to see him now.’

  Kane nodded. ‘Has he been readin’ too many dime novels?’

  Rio looked puzzled. ‘Who? Jordan?’

  ‘No. The kid.’ Kane stared hard at Utah. ‘What’s your name, kid?’

  The young man opened his mouth, thought about answering then snapped it shut. He thought some more and said, ‘Byron.’

  ‘I can see why you like Utah,’ Kane sighed. ‘And you want in on this?’

  ‘Rio rode a hundred miles to deal himself in,’ Utah explained. ‘That’s good enough for me.’

  ‘Who’re we up against?’ Rio asked.

  ‘Jordy, Johnny Marsh, Roscoe James, Marty Collins and Cassidy.’

  Rio whistled, then drew his Colt as was his habit before all gunfights and checked the loads. He snapped the loading gate shut and holstered it.

  ‘Let’s go and pay them boys a visit, huh?’

  Kane looked at the Winchester in his left hand. He walked across to the boardwalk and leaned it against a veranda post. He walked back out into the street and said, ‘Yeah, let’s.’

  All five gunmen were lounging out the front of the jail and when Jordan Kane saw the three men walking side-by-side along the street towards them, he smiled.

  ‘Looks like Lucas has got himself some help,’ he said with an air of expectation.

  Cassidy spat on the boardwalk. ‘Hell, it’s Rio and the kid, Utah.’

  ‘A no-name and a kid,’ Jordan sneered. ‘Lucas must be scrapin’ the bottom of the barrel.’

  ‘Don’t underestimate them, Jordan,’ Cassidy cautioned. ‘You may not have seen them in action but I have. Rio is good. Real good. He just don’t go lookin’ for a name for hisself. And Utah, he may be young but he’s as fast as they come.’

  ‘They’re your problem, not mine,’ Jordan said dismissively. ‘The only one I have to worry about is Lucas. I kill him, and I take his place at the top of the tree.’

  For the first time, Cassidy saw a wild, almost crazed look in the younger Kane’s eyes. He knew then that it was all going to end badly.

  Too late to back out now, he reasoned. Thing
s had gone too far. They’d seen to that the previous night when they’d slaughtered the settlers.

  ‘Come on,’ Jordan said as he stood and stepped down into the street.

  The others followed him and fanned out, three feet between each man. Jordan Kane stood at the end of the line where he could man up to his brother.

  ‘Do you feel it, Cassidy?’ he asked the big gunman.

  ‘Feel what?’

  Jordan looked across at Cassidy with the same wild look as before. ‘The feelin’ you get right before the battle. The feelin’ of invincibility.’

  ‘You crazy son of a bitch,’ Cassidy mumbled and shook his head.

  Kane watched as the five gunmen ahead of him fanned out across the street. As they stood from left to right they were Collins, Cassidy, James, Marsh, and Jordan. Collins looked to be holding himself stiffly. He would be the wounded one, Kane guessed.

  The trio closed the distance between them at a steady pace.

  ‘What do you think?’ Rio asked Kane.

  ‘I think if we get out of this with our hides intact we’ll be three of the luckiest sons of bitches around,’ the gunfighter said drily.

  The gap had closed to sixty feet. The five killers had stopped, allowing the others to approach.

  ‘How you feelin’, kid?’ Kane asked Utah.

  ‘I’ll tell you when this is over,’ he answered nervously.

  ‘You can still back out,’ Rio informed him. ‘No one would think any less of you.’

  ‘I would,’ Utah said.

  Fifty feet.

  ‘Utah,’ Kane said without taking his eyes from the men in front of him. ‘As soon as it starts, don’t stand still. Just keep movin’ and shootin’.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you’ll stay alive a lot longer that way,’ Rio elaborated.

  All remained quiet until the two groups were thirty feet apart. Kane decided that was close enough and stopped.

  Jordan smiled. ‘So the time has come, huh, brother?’

  ‘You shouldn’t have killed all them settlers, Jordy,’ Kane said.

  ‘That was the job, Lucas.’