Yet the practiced speed of Kendrick’s draw and fire was even too great for Jessica to match. She realized in that split second that she wouldn’t be able to level and shoot before the gambler triggered a second time. And their backs were to Halford, and Halford was aiming his shotgun squarely at Jessica and Daryl, who were standing perfectly targeted for the two unchoked 12-gauge shells in its breech. Unfortunately for him, Ki was already throwing one of the billiard balls. Ki had begun his pitch at the same moment he saw Kendrick twitch his arm toward his coat. The ball smacked Halford in the mouth, sending gold-filled teeth flying with the sound of snapping tree branches.
Halford started falling, taking the shotgun with him and accidentally discharging one of its barrels. The blast flew high, shattering one of the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling near Kendrick’s card table, the spray of glass and kerosene distracting Kendrick for a second. And Daryl shot him between the eyes. The gambler lurched and slumped to the table, spilling the glass and bottle and deck of cards, his snub-nosed pistol hitting the floor.
Ki killed Halford with his second toss, a whiplashing overhand that hurled the ball like an arrow. It struck Halford, who was still crumpling from the first ball, in the forehead and crushed the frontal plate of his skull. Fitting, Ki thought as he watched Halford plummet out of sight; it seemed somehow right to repeat the stoning Daphne had given Deputy Oakes.
“The door!” Daryl shouted at Jessica, lunging past Kendrick toward the rear. He never slowed, but rammed into the back door with his left shoulder, tearing the door loose from its hinges and popping its lock. He surged into the room with Jessica on his heels, their revolvers braced in their fists.
Two burly men were in the room, neither of them Ryker. Daryl cracked the first man in the face with the barrel of his revolver, but couldn’t reach Jessica in time to save her from being attacked.
The second man, partially concealed behind the opening door, had leaped out and snagged Jessica by her gun-arm, and was savagely attempting to wrestle her pistol away. She wrenched back, kicking and scratching, but was unable to break free or bring her Colt to bear. In their struggle, she stumbled back against a bureau, almost upsetting it. Frantically she fought for her balance, clawing the bureau with her other hand, her fingers closing around the handle of a china water jug teetering on the bureau’s top. She scooped up the jug and bashed the man over the head with it.
It was enough to send the man staggering, and Daryl dropped him with a bullet through the knee, then grinned at Jessica, and sprang for the partially open window along the far wall.
“Ryker may’ve gotten out here,” he said, raising the sash and poking his head out. But all he saw outside was Ki.
For Ki, back in the saloon, had had a different idea where Ryker might have gone. While Jessica and Daryl had run for the door, on the assumption that Ryker had locked himself in the rear quarters, Ki had the feeling that Ryker was already out and making his escape.
Sprinting in the opposite direction, out the front of the saloon, he veered around the side toward the weedy lot that abutted the rear of the building. He skirted a stack of beer kegs and jumped up onto a small loading platform, raised about four feet off the ground. Just past the platform were three horses, and Gurthied Ryker was mounting the middle one, while two other men stood cinching their saddles.
Ryker had his revolver out. “Damned Starbuck meddlers!” he snarled, and triggered his revolver three times, very fast.
Ki twisted in a low, rolling circle; the first of Ryker’s bullets struck a beer keg, and the second splintered the platform deck between Ki’s legs. The third went straight down into the earth next to Ryker’s horse, because by then a thin, tapering dagger was protruding from Ryker’s chest.
Ryker coughed, shaking from the impact of Ki’s thrown dagger. He started mounting higher but couldn’t quite make his saddle, and for a moment he clung with his hands grasping the horn, then slumped back.
The man on his left had danced away from the horses, and had dropped to his knee to sight his revolver. He was hunching like that, steadying his revolver, when a bullet from the rear window struck him in the side and toppled him over.
The third man fled out across the back lot, losing all interest in the confrontation.
Rising from the deck of the platform, Ki dropped off onto the ground and walked over to Ryker. The man remained in his strange position, a boot in one stirrup, both hands grasping the saddlehorn, the index finger of his right hand curled around the trigger of his revolver, preventing the pistol from falling. His whole body had a soft, sagging appearance to it. When Ki loosened Ryker’s hands, the man crumpled to the ground, as if deflating.
Ki removed his dagger, wiped its blade on Ryker’s shirt, and slipped it back into its pocket on the inside of his vest. Then, from another pocket, Ki took out one of his shuriken; he’d purposely brought it along for just this occasion, having taken it from his jammed device before leaving his hotel room. Bending down, he stuck one star-pointed edge into the dagger wound as a memento, as a warning sign to other members of the cartel. Straightening then, he walked to the front of the saloon.
Jessica and Daryl were waiting for him outside the batwings. “Daryl pegged one from the window,” Jessica said. “I didn’t realize he could shoot that well at an angle.”
“I didn’t either,” Daryl said. “Was it Ryker?”
“No, but Ryker’s dead,” Ki replied. “I’m glad you got the one you did, though, because the man was about set to peg me.”
They started down the boardwalk toward the hotel, as Daryl ejected spent cartridges from his Remington. “I guess that takes care of that, then. You’ll be leaving tomorrow, back to Texas?”
Ki didn’t answer. Jessica also didn’t respond for a long moment, but finally said, “Well, we might have to stay over for the inquest. There’s sure to be one held, don’t you think?”
“If not, there should be,” Daryl answered, cheering.
“Plus the investigation,” Ki added.
“Into the rustling and parkland swindle?”
“No, Daryl, I had more in mind into how Deputy Oakes’s horse got from the canyon to the livery stable. Not to mention the disappearance of his clothes. I doubt he’ll have forgotten that.”
“Not much to fret over,” Jessica said. “After tonight, the deputy’s goose has been burnt to a frazzle.” She turned to smile at Daryl. “Since we’ll probably be staying in Eucher Butte a few more days, maybe we should spend it searching for your stock.”
“I know where the stolen herds are. Up in some box canyons at the far end of Ryker’s ranch,” Ki said, then he let out a wearied sigh. “I’m not feeling up to it, I’m afraid. I need a rest.”
“That is a shame,” Jessica consoled. “Well, you just stay resting up in your room. But my, I do dislike riding alone.”
Daryl moistened his lips. “Reckon I might be able to fill in. They are my cows, after all.” He reflected a bit longer, then suggested, “How ‘bout if I slept over the night at the hotel, and me and you take a ride over thataway after breakfast tomorrow?”
“Whatever you think best,” Jessica said primly.
“Good,” Ki remarked with a flicker of a smile as they stepped into the lobby of the hotel. “I can see everybody is going to get a hell of a rest.”
Look for
LONE STAR AND THE OPIUM RUSTLERS and LONE STAR AND THE BORDER BANDITS
two more novels in the hot new
LONE STAR series from Jove
available now!
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