“Good luck, boy.”
Falcon went back to the livery and got his rifle. He hid it under the dress shop. He took two of the pistols he’d taken from the dead and wounded in the earlier fight and hid them. Then he filled up a bandolier with .44 rounds and slung it over his shoulder and across his chest. His friends had stuffed their pockets full of spare cartridges. He was ready. Now came the hardest part: the waiting.
The noon hour passed and Falcon and his men ate a hearty meal at the café. The festivities at the church were supposed to get underway at mid afternoon. Already, people were finishing up their shopping and heading in that direction. John Bailey had quietly alerted about a dozen of the men and they had loaded up their rifles and tucked them out of sight but in very handy places. They all knew what to do when trouble started. If Noonan and Stegman tried to attack the church and the grounds around it, they would run into a hail of gunfire, from men who were very familiar with gunfire and knew their rifles as well as they knew the back of their hands.
Falcon put the church social out of his mind as he watched the shop owners shut down for the day, closing about three or four hours early so they could get ready for the social.
Big Bob walked up to stand under the awning where Falcon was just rolling a cigarette. Falcon handed him the makin’s. Big Bob rolled and licked and lit. He inhaled, huffed out smoke, and then said, “I just heard that the Noonan that was hangin’ on just died over to the doc’s office.”
“Dale?”
“I believe that’s what the man called him. Yeah. That’s right. Dale. Belly-shot, he was.”
“That’s him.”
“I got me a notion that we ought to finish this little war today, Falcon.”
“Sounds good to me, Bob. I’m for it.”
“Me and the boys done talked it over. Them crazy damn hired guns is either gonna surrender or they’s gonna die. One of the two. We all agree that there ain’t gonna be no other option open to them.”
“Suits me.”
“I want this to be a nice peaceful little town when they pin them badges on me and Stumpy. Handle a drunk ever’ now and then and maybe settle some family argument ever’ so often. No shootin’. Me and Stumpy gonna get us a nice little house apiece and live quiet like.”
“Tired of rambling, Bob?”
“I’m gettin’ a mite weary of it, yeah. Stumpy, too.”
“Then it’s time to light for a spell.”
“Yep. Shore is.” Big Bob hauled out a watch about the size of your average clock and clicked open the lid. “They’ll be comin’ shortly now. I feel it in my bones. Your boy up yonder on the hill will be standin’ up and wavin’ and hollerin’ in a few minutes.”
“You’re sure, huh?” Falcon asked with a smile.
“Yep. I’m shore.”
Falcon hitched at his gunbelt and made no other comment about Big Bob’s premonition. He had been raised around old mountain men and knew how finely honed their sixth sense was. They had lived their entire lives on the sharp edge of danger and their senses were twice that of any ordinary man.
Dan Carson walked up and paused for a moment. He wore two six-shooters in leather, had two more tucked behind his gunbelt, and another stuck down behind his belt at the small of his back. “Them ol’ boys will be comin’ in pretty damn soon, now, I reckon,” he opined. “My blood is beginning to run hot. I ’spect we’d better get ready to greet them.”
Falcon sighed and smiled. If another of his friends walked up and said something about the raiders coming in ...
Puma walked up. Like Big Bob and Dan, he was fairly bristling with pistols. “Jenny’s here,” he announced.
Big Bob gave him a look. “That damn cat of yours is here, in town?”
“Yep. I can feel her near.”
“But you ain’t seen her?”
“I don’t have to see her. I can sense when she’s near to me. But I didn’t come over here to jaw ’bout Jenny. Them raiders is on the way.”
Falcon sighed.
“I figure they’ll be here in ’bout twenty or thirty minutes.”
Big Bob looked at Falcon and smiled. Then his smile faded and he said to Puma, “You keep that damn cat away from me, Puma, you hear me?”
“She ain’t gonna bother you none. Relax. But I figure she’s been real close by all the time. I been gettin’ some messages from her.”
“There ain’t no goddamn way no goddamn puma can send no human bein’ no goddamn message!” Big Bob snorted. “I swear, Parley, the older you get the crazier you get.”
Puma Parley smiled and remained silent.
Falcon furtively looked all around him, thinking he might see Jenny skulking about the now nearly deserted town. Then he caught himself and felt rather foolish. He had to agree with Big Bob: Jenny was more than likely hundreds of miles away, and she certainly wasn’t sending Puma any messages.
Puma walked away a few yards to stand smiling. “Yep,” he finally said. “She’s here, all right.”
“Oh ... to hell with you, Puma!” Big Bob said.
“I seen Miles Gilman,” Wildcat said, in an effort to lighten the mood some. “He was squirin’ around that farm woman, Mrs. Carter. They shore was lovey-dovey. I reckon that’s gettin’ some serious.”
“Yeah,” Mustang said. “And Terri and Reverend Watkins is seein’ one another. I tell you what, they’s some strange happenin’s takin’ place around this part of the country.”
“For a fact,” Stumpy agreed. “And they’s gonna be some more things change in a few minutes.”
“What are you talkie’ about?” Puma asked, turning around to look at his old friend.
“Them raiders is almost here,” Stumpy said.
Falcon looked up at his boy on the hill. The boy was sitting, staring out at the road that led to town, making no frantic signals to warn Falcon of any approaching riders.
“Yep,” Big Bob agreed. “I do believe you’re right, Stumpy.
I can sense them gunhands gettin’ closer, for a fact. I figure ’bout twenty minutes and we’ll be shootin’.”
Dan Carson nodded his head. “You’re right, boys. They’re almost here.”
“Oh, now come on, guys!” Falcon said impatiently. “The boy up on the hill hasn’t made a move to signal us. He can see for several miles.”
“Oh, them raiders ain’t come into his sight yet,” Wildcat stated. “But they’ll be plain to him in a few minutes. You just hold your water for minute or so. You’ll see.”
“Speakin’ of holdin’ your water,” Big Bob said. “I reckon I’d better go shake the dew off my flower ’fore we has to go into action. It’s uncomfortable havin’ to pee and shoot at the same time.”
“Yeah, I’m with you,” Dan said. “Let’s find us a privy right quick. We don’t want to miss out on none of the fun.”
The two men wandered down the alley. Falcon watched them go and shook his head in disbelief at their warning about the Double N and .44 riders approaching. Puma had already walked across the street, to take his position next to the far boardwalk.
Mustang hitched at his gunbelt and stepped off the boardwalk into the street. “I reckon we bes’ get ready for some gunsmoke, fellers. For troubles a-comin’, for shore.”
Falcon looked up at the hill. The boy was sitting, staring out at the big empty, making no signals toward town.
Again, he sighed and shook his head.
“You told that boy that when trouble starts, to stay up yonder and keep down, didn’t you, Falcon?” Stumpy asked.
“Yes. He knows to belly-down and stay clear.”
“Good. I’d like this little fracas to end without havin’ a single local gettin’ hurt.”
“They’ll be comin’ into sight now at any time,” Puma said. “I can feel ’em gettin’ closer.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Falcon said. “You guys are having fun with me, that’s all.”
“That there boy on the hill will be jumpin’ up and down any minute,” Puma sai
d. “You’ll see.”
Big Bob and Dan returned from their visit to the privy. Big Bob said, “I reckon we all bes’ be gettin’ set for some action. You boys ready to let ’em bang?”
The mountain men nodded their heads. They were ready.
“Let’s get set, then.”
Falcon sighed. He lifted his eyes to the hill. The boy was standing up, waving his arms frantically.
“Well, I’ll just be damned!” Falcon muttered.
“Told you,” Wildcat said, stepping off the boardwalk into the street. “Let’s get ready to smell some gunsmoke, boys.”
Thirty-One
The seven men spread out across the wide main street of town. Puma, Mustang, Wildcat, Big Bob, Stumpy, Dan, and finally Falcon. Upon spotting the seven men, the huge gathering of hired guns reined up at the edge of town and let the dust settle and their horses blow.
“Must be fifty of ’em, at least,” Stumpy said. “And another bunch comin’ in behind that one.”
“Yeah, but it’s smaller,” Big Bob called. “That’ll be the bunch that Noonan and Stegman will be ridin’ with.”
“Get ready,” Falcon called, just loud enough for his men to hear. “They’re going to be coming up the street straight at us in a few seconds.”
“Just like I figured they would,” Dan said.
“Yep,” Mustang said. “You called this ’un right, Dan.”
“You boys all know what to do,” Falcon said. “Soon as we empty the lead saddles, head for cover.”
“You watch your butt, Falcon,” Big Bob called.
“Good luck, boys,” Falcon replied.
With a shout of defiance, the mounted mob put the spurs to their horses and lunged forward, galloping up the street toward the thin line of men. When they got within good pistol range, seven men each jerked two six-guns from leather and let them bang just as fast as they could cock and fire.
Twenty saddles were emptied in a matter of seconds. Horses were rearing up and bucking and screaming in fright. Wounded men were crawling around in the dirt of the street, most of them getting trampled on by the hooves of the horses that had been galloping directly behind them.
When the dust settled, Falcon and the mountain men were nowhere in sight and the horsemen were trapped in the center of the street.
Falcon and three of his men opened up from one side of the street, while the three other mountain men opened up from the other. More saddles were emptied and horses were going crazy from the smell of blood and the roar of gunfire and the screaming of the wounded gunhands.
Less than half of those who had arrogantly charged Falcon and his friends managed to get their horses turned around and gallop back out of town, and many of them were wounded. The street was filled with the dead, dying, and badly wounded.
Falcon and his men had not suffered even the tiniest of scratches.
Stegman was horrified at the carnage he was witnessing in the street, but Noonan was outraged. “Dismount!” he roared at his men. “Dismount and go after those bastards on foot and kill them. Do it! All of you.”
A mob of hired guns spread out and began slowly working their way up both sides of the street, front and back of the businesses. There were Noonan and Stegman brothers and kids of the brothers and cousins and uncles and so forth. For many of them, this would be the last fight: Their blood would stain the streets and alleys and boardwalks and businesses of the small western town in Wyoming.
“Just stay inside the church,” John Bailey told the people gathered for the church social. “Noonan and Stegman’s men will not harm you. Preacher, get your choir together and give us some songs, will you?”
“My pleasure, sir,” Reverend Watkins said. “Come, sisters, let us raise our voices in song while the Philistines spill their blood in the streets.”
Falcon came up face-to-face with a bearded gunhand and shot him twice just as Big Bob lined up a paid gunny in his sights and blew him to hell. Dan Carson stood in the doorway of a back door and waited until a gunslick walked up ... then he shot him in the head. Mustang stepped out of a building and blew one of the Noonan cousins out of one boot. The man was dead before he stretched out on the ground for the last time.
Puma called out to a gunslick, “Hey, you ugly bastard! Behind you.”
The man whirled around and Puma gave him two .45 rounds in the chest.
Wildcat emptied one pistol into a knot of hired guns and sent two to the ground, mortally wounded. The other three jumped for cover and scrambled out of sight.
Stumpy leveled both pistols at several men who were trying to slip out the back of the building, and let his six-shooters bang. When the smoke cleared, two men were dead and the third was crawling away, out of the fight.
Suddenly there was a woman’s scream: a terrible scream that cut the afternoon air. But after a few seconds, Falcon decided it wasn’t a woman’s scream; it was slightly off in timbre. A man staggered out from between two buildings, half his face gone and blood dripping from the terrible wound. The man tried to speak, but no words would come from his mouth.
“Jenny got him,” Puma called. “I told y’all she was close by.”
The man with half his face missing screamed in pain and then collapsed in the middle of the street and lay still.
“What the hell happened to Dick?” someone called. “I didn’t hear no gunshot.”
“I don’t know,” a man called in reply. “But half his face is missin’.”
A shot cut the afternoon and a gunslick grunted and took a header off the hotel roof. He smashed through the awning, bounced on the boardwalk, and lay still.
“Falcon MacCallister, you son of a bitch!” Nance Noonan shouted.
Falcon did not reply. He stayed between two buildings, pressed up into a doorway.
“You’ve played hell, for a fact,” Nance shouted. “But this day ain’t over.”
For a fact, Falcon thought. And if you had any sense, you’d pull up stakes and ride on out to another part of the country.
Then Nance Noonan signed his death warrant when he shouted, “I know you got kids, Falcon. And I know where they are down in Colorado. I’ll kill them, MacCallister. I’ll make certain none of your stinkin’ offspring lives. They’re dead, MacCallister. You hear me? Your kids is dead!”
Falcon felt an icy sensation wash over him. It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on him. He did not know it, but he was smiling; but the smile was awful to behold. It was a curving of the lips that came straight from Hell.
“You’re dead, Noonan,” Falcon muttered softly, only the faint breeze hearing his words. “You’re a walking-around dead man. No matter where you go, I’ll find you and kill you.”
A hired gun suddenly left cover and tried to make the side door to the general store. The guns of three mountain men barked and the man stumbled and went down to his knees. He stayed in that position for a few seconds, then toppled over and lay still in the mouth of the alley.
“I’m done, MacCallister!” a man called. “I’m out of here. I’m holsterin’ my guns and gettin’ my horse and ridin’ out. Don’t shoot. You hear me?”
Falcon maintained his silence.
“Me, too,” another man shouted. “This is crazy. I ain’t gonna die for no damn Noonan. I’m joinin’ Pete and ridin’ out. Don’t shoot.”
“You yellow-bellied bastards!” Nance shouted. “I’ve been payin’ you top wages for months and now you turn yeller on me. You stand and fight, you scum.”
“You go to hell, Noonan,” another voice sprang out of an alleyway. “It’s time, past time, you understood that you ain’t gonna win this fight. It’s over, man. And I ain’t havin’ no part of killin’ nobody’s kids.”
“That goes double for me,” yet another voice was added to the quitting voices. “I’m done here. MacCallister, my guns is in leather. I’m through. I’m headin’ out the back alley and ridin’ clear of this town. You understand?”
“Git gone then,” Big Bob’s voice shout
ed. “All of you who want to live, ride out and don’t never come back to this part of the country. If I see any of you again, I’ll kill you on the spot. Ride out and don’t come back. Hold your fire, boys. Let them ride clear.”
Nance cussed all those who gathered up their horses, swung into the saddles, and rode out. “You sorry bunch of yeller coyotes!” he shouted, his voice filled with rage. “You no-good scummy bastards. Take a man’s money and then turn yeller on him. Goddamm you all to hell.”
One of the men who had made up his mind to ride out told Nance how and where he could shove his words—sideways. Nance screamed his anger at the departing gunhands.
“How about it, Nance?” Falcon finally broke his silence. “You and me in the street. You have the nerve to face me man-to-man, you sorry piece of crap?”
There was no reply.
Falcon called again for Nance to meet him in the street. Nance made no reply to the deadly invitation.
“We’re out of here, MacCallister,” yet another voice filled the late-afternoon air. “We’re done with this fight. They’s five of us ridin’ out. Hold your fire.”
“Ten of us,” another voice shouted. “That about does it, MacCallister. Tell your boys it’s all over. We’re through and done with it.”
“Where’s Nance?” Falcon shouted.
“He rode out a few minutes ago. He quit. Him and all his brothers and other kin with him. We ain’t stayin’ here and takin’ no lead for him.”
“Ride out then,” Big Bob called. “But don’t none of you never come back. You’re dead if you do. You understand?”
“We understand. You’ve seen the last of us.”
“Git gone, then!”
After a moment, Falcon yelled, “Where’s Stegman?”
“Gone,” Stumpy called. “I seen him ride out ’fore any of the others left.”
“Anybody know where the doc is?”
“At the church, I think,” Puma called. “I’m closest. I’ll go get him.”
“Take that damn cat of yours with you,” Big Bob called.
“She’s back in the hills,” Puma shouted. “I seen her hightailin’ it after that no-’count scared her and she had to defend herself. Poor baby’s scared to death, probably.”
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