McAllister 2
Page 16
McAllister rose to his feet and said wryly: “You’re smarter than I thought, Mark.”
Southern showed his large white teeth. McAllister had never seen so much hate on a man’s face. The sheriff said: “You stole my woman, you stole my gold. There ain’t nothin’ for it but to kill you, you son-of-a-bitch.”
McAllister said: “You don’t have a thing you can hang me for, Southern.”
The sheriff’s white teeth stayed in view. “Who said anythin’ about hangin’? I’m through with the woman and I have the gold. There ain’t no judge and jury up here, boy. I’m goin’ to shoot you an’ bury you. An’ maybe I’ll dance a little on your grave.”
From behind McAllister, Tully said: “You forgot about our Indian, boss. This bastard shot our Indian.”
Southern said: “A pity we had to leave him. He’d of done a nice job on this bum.”
The shooting had brought the Mexicans from their blankets. They stood around looking lost and forlorn. Their hopes of a great fortune lay in shambles at their feet. They thought their leader, Ignacio, dead. Manuel had shown his treachery to them and he was dead. The hopeful trip had ended in a mixture of tragedy and farce.
McAllister said: “Just so you don’t get too gala, Mark, I’m tellin’ you there’s two rifles pointed at you right this minute.”
“Sure,” said Billy Lancaster, “an’ a couple of cannons beside.”
McAllister said: “There’s been enough blood spilt already, Mark. Put your guns up and call it a day. The gold’s goin’ back to its owner.”
Southern could not help himself. He thought McAllister was bluffing, but just the same he had to look around to see if there was a rifle anywhere looking at him.
He said: “The trick’s too old, McAllister.” He raised his voice: “One of you Mexes bring a shovel so this bastard can dig his own grave.”
McAllister was starting to feel nervous. By this time one of those rifles should be shooting. Had something gone wrong? Something whined past McAllister, hit a rock and went screaming thinly into the early morning air. Then came the report of the high rifle.
They all jumped.
McAllister looked around him hastily, not knowing which way to go, but wanting to feel the weight of his gun in his hand. He knew that Pilar had fired and missed. A little pandemonium broke out. Southern and Tully involuntarily fired at McAllister, both in desperate haste. Both shots missed, but Southern’s came so close to Tully that the man ducked away, yelling for him to hold his fire. McAllister dived for his gun, got a grip on it and rolled. Thus he avoided a hasty shot from Lancaster.
Tully was nearest and the most dangerous at that moment. McAllister twisted over and fired at him almost point-blank. The shot lifted the man off his feet and dumped him on the ground. But Tully was an instinctive fighter and went down shooting. Something struck McAllister in the belly and knocked him from his feet as he gained them.
Tully heaved himself upon to an elbow for another shot. The whole of his shirt-front was soaked in blood. Even as he cocked his gun, a shot caught him in his head and he stretched out dead.
McAllister rolled again as somebody fired at him. He heard the shot chip rock. He saw Lancaster whirling in search of the hidden rifles. Southern had run back towards the rocks behind him and had now turned to shoot at McAllister again. He levered the Spencer as McAllister fired and missed.
Lancaster cried out and went down.
McAllister and Southern fired in the same instant. The sheriff turned away from the scene, very slowly, a look of utter surprise on his face his eyes showing his disbelief in what had happened to him. High in the rocks, Pilar fired what must be her last shot. It knocked Southern from his feet. He lay very still for a moment, his eyes fixed on McAllister. He went to say something, but no words came. McAllister watched him die.
He shoved his gun away and looked up for Pilar. She had risen to her feet and he could see her distant figure coming down through the rocks. He lifted a hand to her and she waved back like a woman who was very tired. He looked around for Ignacio and saw the man lift a hand high in the rocks to his left. He said to the Mexicans: “Oblige me by getting Ignacio down here. Be gentle with him—he is badly hurt.”
When the girl reached the flat of the canyon floor, he was there to meet her. She came very easily into his arms and lay against his chest. She was beyond weeping. She knew grief at the killing of men and relief for being alive.
“I know,” he said softly. “You don’t have to say it.”
“Let us get away from here as soon as we can, McAllister,” she said. “I have what I want, but now I wish I’d never wanted it.”
“Tomorrow, you’ll be different,” he told her. “With this place behind you, you’ll realize that you’re an independent woman who can accept or reject any man she wants.”
She looked up at him with a little smile. “I’ll accept you for a start.”
“A woman of taste.”
“Where shall we start?”
“Some folks prefer San Francisco to see the elephant. Me? I’ll plump for San Antone. Did you ever go there?”
“Never.”
“They have a mighty fine theatre there, all red plush and gold,” he told her. “And mighty pretty actresses. There’s a hotel there which is the plushiest establishment west of the Missouri, to my mind. You can have champagne for breakfast if you like that kind of thing. You can go out to dinner, dancing and play-acting every night for a month and never go to the same place twice.”
“I’ll have to pay a penalty for such wonders.”
“You do.”
“What is it?”
“You have to put up with me in between.”
He was glad to see her laugh. She leaned back in his arms and said: “When I first saw you, I thought you were a hard man who never smiled.”
“I thought you were the greatest looking gal I ever set eyes on.”
He watched his words making her feel good. That made him feel good. He thought life wasn’t as damn bad as he’d thought it was when he was stuck underground. Being in San Antone with Pilar was going to be something like being in paradise. Well—it was going to be a lot of fun.
McALLISTER 2:
McALLISTER AND THE SPANISH GOLD
By Matt Chisholm
First published by Hamlyn Books in 1981
Copyright © 1981, 2017 by Matt Chisholm
First Smashwords Edition: March 2017
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book
Series Editor: Mike Stotter
Text © Piccadilly Publishing
Published by Arrangement with the Author’s Agent.
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