by Joe Slade
‘Doc! In here.’
Rick was climbing in through the window when Doc skidded in to the bedroom. There was no sight of Braddock or Maggie but as his eyes fell on the bed, the breath choked in Doc’s throat. He braced himself, saw Rick look away, and pulled back the tangled blankets. For a few seconds, he stared in to the girl’s lifeless brown eyes, disturbed and relieved in the same instant.
‘It’s not her,’ he said at last. ‘It’s not Maggie.’
~*~
Braddock almost regretted his decision as he slipped from behind the kitchen door and walked out on to the street. It had been a long time since he had killed a man up close. As a rule he never did. It lacked the level of satisfaction that killing a woman gave him. He knew he would have made an exception for John Simpkins if things had been different. But this town had taken his friend, his partner of two decades, and the bastards had to pay. Braddock knew that Milt would approve of the efficiency of his chosen method.
He danced as bullets kicked up dirt around his feet but he didn’t bother to return fire. The bullets were falling haphazardly and he doubted the fools could hit him if he stood still for five minutes. Right now, he only had one thing on his mind and as he dived in to the alley, he scooped up the kerosene lamp and matches that he had left there earlier. He grinned as he lit it.
‘This is for you, Milt,’ he said, drawing back his arm.
Before he could throw it, a bullet thunked in to the wall beside his head, showering him with splinters. His eyes narrowed as he saw Doc in the doorway opposite, levering the Winchester for another shot as he tried to duck out. Damn! He couldn’t let him slip away now. He palmed his Colt and returned fire, forcing Doc back inside. When the hammer clicked on an empty chamber, he hurled the lamp across the street and stepped back to enjoy the devastation that blazing kerosene and two bundles of strategically placed dynamite would cause.
Twenty-Two
Maggie couldn’t remember a time when her heart had pounded harder. Coming around the corner behind Braddock, she barely had the breath to shout his name. It didn’t matter. The word would have been lost like the shot she fired that went wild as the whole street seemed to rock.
She held on to the wall, trying to steady herself as her body reacted to the blast like an anvil resisting the strike of a hammer. It left her breathless. As the initial shock subsided, all she saw was billowing smoke and dust where Doc’s building had stood.
Behind her, someone was tugging at her sleeve. She could hear a voice but it sounded muffled and far away against the ringing in her ears. The world tilted as she turned. Leo had been lagging behind and the blast seemed not to have affected him as badly. She could tell he was yelling at her, the urgency transmitting along her arm as he tried to drag her away.
She glanced over her shoulder, choking on a sob. If only she had arrived a few seconds earlier, not paused for breath before trying to put a bullet in Braddock, Doc might still be alive. Now, he was undoubtedly dead and Braddock was clambering unsteadily to his feet with a smile spreading slowly across his face as he stumbled towards her.
She raised her hand, but it was empty. She didn’t remember dropping the gun but everything had happened so fast. Even now, she felt as though she were in a dream as her gaze scoured the ground for the lost weapon.
‘Come on!’ Leo shouted, close to her ear.
Her feet moved against her will and then she was running, following Leo between scattered buildings and abandoned lots. She didn’t know where they were going. She didn’t care. Braddock had killed Doc and probably Rick too. Given the chance he would kill her, but only if she didn’t kill him first, and she wasn’t ready to die.
She tried to look back, to see if Braddock was following but Leo pulled her on, dragging her when she stumbled. Just when it seemed her heart would explode, he shoved her inside a warehouse, slamming and barring the door behind them. She stood with her back pressed against the wall, her legs barely supporting her as she surveyed her surroundings.
It brought back a fleeting memory from her childhood of when she had accompanied her father on business. He had been interested in real estate and she had picked up an understanding of it along the way. This place must cover 3000 square feet and had obviously been abandoned for a while. It was stripped bare of everything that might have had any value. Now only dust motes hung on shafts of light that filtered in through high windows and gaps in the walls where the wood had rotted or been ripped away. At the far end, she saw the horses standing together in a huddle, stamping the ground and obviously frightened by the explosion.
Leo finished securing the door and stood with his back against it, eyes closed, breathing hard. She could feel him trembling and, as she glanced sideways, she noticed a trickle of blood where his teeth were tearing at his lower lip.
She reached out and squeezed his hand. In the heat of the moment, it was easy to forget how young he was. His fingers closed over hers in a tight grip for just a second, then he pulled free.
‘We should go,’ he croaked.
He was right. Braddock had seen them. It would only be a matter of time until he found them and without the Schofield she didn’t like her chances against him.
Live to fight another day.
‘Live to find another day,’ she agreed, echoing Frank’s words as she pushed away from the wall and started running towards the horses.
~*~
The blast had left Braddock feeling sick, and unsteady on his legs. When the lamp had smashed, igniting the kerosene that he had carefully poured earlier, the flames had spread more quickly than he anticipated. The effect had been spectacular when the dynamite, placed behind the false front at each corner, had exploded in near unison. The building had collapsed in a billow of smoke and dust, debris flying as the whole place disintegrated in a smothering cloud.
Braddock felt exulted by the result but he had paid for his success. He hadn’t had time to take cover and the blast had hit him like a sledgehammer, while dirt and debris battered him and dust brought tears to his eyes. If it hadn’t been for the brief sight of the woman, he might have keeled over, but instead he staggered after her.
He didn’t worry when he lost sight of her. He had a good idea that she would head for the horses and, thanks to the simpleminded girl’s information, he knew their exact location. So, he staggered on, driven by the burning desire to take his final revenge on Frank O’Bannen.
Twenty-Three
‘You open the doors,’ Maggie told Leo. ‘I’ll get the horses.’
She was half way towards the frightened animals when she heard wood splinter and the crack of a board as it snapped. Maggie stopped dead as the horses, already white-eyed with panic, pulled free of their tethers and took off in all directions. She froze and waited for them to calm, then turned to see a shaft of light penetrating a hole in the wall where she had just been standing. Beyond it, fingers clawed through the gap, grabbing another rotted slat, turning white with the effort to dislodge it.
‘I’m coming for you, Maggie,’ Braddock shouted as another board broke away. ‘There’s nowhere to run.’
Behind her Leo was struggling to open the loading bay door. Ignoring Braddock’s taunts she ran to help him, grabbing at the warped and twisted wood, gasping when the effort caused lightning sharp pain to course through her shoulder, but she didn’t give up.
‘Lift,’ Leo groaned as he heaved against the hinges to ease the path of the sagging door.
Together they struggled until it swung open wide enough to get the horses out. After that it dug in and refused to move. Maggie glanced back to where Braddock had been pulling apart the wall. Daylight showed distinctly through the narrow opening. There was no sign of him.
‘Where’s Braddock?’ She almost screamed the question as her gaze swept the shadowy interior in a frantic search.
‘I don’t know.’ Leo shoved her. ‘Grab one of the horses and let’s get out of here.’
It was easier said than done but as the horses ca
lmed, she managed to grab Doc’s bay. Leo had cornered a big black that she didn’t recognize and had swung onto its back without trouble, but the bay was a tall horse and without strength in her shoulders to pull her up into the saddle she was struggling. She let the animal go and made a beeline for Rick’s smaller chestnut mare. The animal was being skittish, dodging every move she made to catch the reins. She turned to Leo for help but he was already at the door.
‘Hurry, Maggie.’
Again she made a grab for the mare and again it evaded her.
‘Leave it,’ Leo shouted, holding out his hand. ‘We’ll ride together.’
Instead of running towards him, she froze. Behind him, silhouetted in the doorway, Braddock punched out and hit the black horse in the chest. The animal reared, throwing Leo from the saddle. He crashed to the ground, cowering as the animal threatened to crush him under its powerful hoofs.
‘No one steals my horse,’ Braddock said, pushing the animal away and stepping inside.
Twenty-Four
Leo tried to rise but Braddock kicked him in the chest. The force of it spun him and he landed on his back, struggling for breath as he hugged himself against the pain. Braddock stepped in again, raining vicious kicks at his ribs and legs as the boy writhed with each blow. Somehow, Leo managed to roll away but it didn’t help him and his back arched as Braddock’s boot found his kidneys.
Maggie’s hands clenched in to fists as she fought her bodies inability to move. Her breathing turned ragged, blood pulsing at her temples and the roaring beat of her heart pounding in her ears.
‘Leave him alone,’ she screamed.
She hardly realized she had moved until Braddock’s fist caught her a stunning blow across the cheek. It felt like she had run in to a brick wall and she crashed to the ground, tasting blood as her shoulder gave way and her face skidded through the dirt. She started to scramble, turning onto her back and driving her elbow in to the ground time and again as she pushed with her feet to put distance between her and the giant bearing down on her.
Braddock grinned. ‘So you’re Maggie O’Bannen?’ he said, looking her over with a critical eye as he stalked her. ‘Walt told me you were good-looking. It seems like you’ve got spirit too.’
He made a grab for her leg but she kicked out, losing a boot but keeping her freedom.
Braddock considered the footwear for a moment, tilting his head curiously as he tipped it upside down and shook it. Instantly, Maggie knew what he was looking for. She snatched for the knife in her other boot but Braddock was faster. She felt her ankle crack, the pain shooting up her leg and radiating out as he grabbed the heel and yanked.
The knife speared to the ground, missing his toe by an inch. He paid it no mind as he examined the boot more closely.
‘What happened to Walt?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing as his gaze fixed on her. ‘Did you kill him?’
She knew it wouldn’t matter what answer she gave him. He was there to kill her. Only the how remained unclear.
‘I haven’t seen Walt for months,’ she lied, pulling herself in to a crouch.
He held up the boot, poking his finger through a hole in the leather. ‘Then why are you wearing his boots?’
She couldn’t answer. With her mind racing, words refused to form.
‘I gave him these boots,’ Braddock said. ‘They belonged to a lawman out Tulsa way. I shot his horse out from under him, then I shot his legs out from under him.’ He wiggled his finger in the hole. ‘After that, he didn’t need his boots.’
Braddock lunged, his hand shooting out like a striking snake. His fingers clamped around her throat and she felt the ground disappear beneath her as he lifted her like she weighed nothing at all. She clawed at his big hands while her feet kicked at his body. Nothing affected him. The man was like a slab of rock.
‘How did you do it, bitch?’ He pulled her face in close, his sour breath smothering her. ‘Did you use the knife?’ He reached in to his coat. ‘Or did you use this?’
Out of the corner of her eye she recognized the Schofield and tried to grab it. She was too slow. He hit her across the face with it. Not too hard, but she tasted blood as her teeth sank into the soft skin inside her mouth.
‘Walt was my favorite nephew.’
He hit her again, harder this time. Blood trickled in a warm stream from a cut below her eye. The next blow was even harder. Her eye closed and refused to open. Pain like a red-hot poker lanced through her head and she felt herself losing consciousness.
‘No, no, no,’ he said, shaking her, keeping her from passing out.
Only instinct made her grab for the gun as he swung it again. Her hand went numb as it took most of the impact.
‘You’re a fighter.’ He flung her away. ‘I like that.’
She slammed against the wall, gasping as the breath whooshed from her body and she slid, stunned, to the ground. Braddock swaggered towards her, his eyes gleaming. He held the gun like a club. An image of Sue-Anne’s smashed face flashed before her. If she was going to die, Maggie didn’t want it to be like that.
Move, Maggie. Move!
Frank’s voice filled her head, dragging her back from the brink of despair. She pushed herself up, struggling to find her balance as the excruciating pain in her right eye made it hard to open her left. She needed time.
‘Frank—’ Blood dribbled down her chin. She spat it away. ‘Frank told me to give you a message.’
Unbelievably, it stopped Braddock in his tracks. ‘What message?’
She whispered a few unintelligible words.
‘Speak up.’
Again she mumbled.
He leaned in to hear, pressing his ear closer to her mouth. ‘Tell me,’ he ordered.
She cupped her hand around his ear. ‘You’re a yellow son-of-a bitch.’
It took a few seconds for what she had said to register. In that moment, she brought up her other hand. Dirt sprayed in his face and with as much strength as she could muster, she shoved him and lunged to the side, passing him as he clawed at his blinded eyes.
Barely able to see, disoriented by pain she could never have imagined, she blundered towards the light where the door still stood open. She almost made it but at the last second, she stumbled. As she struggled to regain her balance, a hand grabbed her collar and dragged her backwards.
She had an impression of the world spinning out of control and then it stopped. She heard, rather than felt, her nose break under the impact of his fist. Blood gushed, filling her throat and mouth until she couldn’t breathe or swallow. She didn’t feel it when he hit her again.
He laughed and dropped her. She hit the ground on her side, cradling her head as he kicked her, she couldn’t tell where. When he stopped, pain was all she could feel and death seemed like a mercy. As she waited for the inevitable end, she could vaguely make out Braddock standing over her like a vulture waiting for its prey to finally die. Beaten and without hope, she waited.
Twenty-Five
Braddock held back from inflicting another brutal blow. She was almost finished but, firm in the knowledge that she had somehow killed Walt, his wrath was far from over.
‘Oh no, Maggie, you don’t get to die before I say so.’
He dragged her up by the hair, shaking her until one eye opened. Feebly, she slapped at his hands and for a few seconds, the futility of her efforts made him smile despite the stinging in his eyes.
‘That’s better,’ he said, throwing her to the ground and kicking her once in the stomach. ‘I want you to beg for mercy before I kill you, do you hear me?’ He kicked her again.
Vomit gushed from her mouth, spraying across his boot. He stepped back and waited. When it was over, she lay still, whimpering like a sick dog.
Suddenly, her weakness disgusted him. Her ugly bloodied face with its swollen eyes and twisted nose and smashed lips offended his sight. He adjusted his grip on the Schofield and rested his hand on the hammer.
‘Tell Frank I said, “rot in hell”,’ he snarled.
She cracked open one eye, somehow managing to glare at him.
‘Tell him … yourself,’ she spluttered.
Something hard and narrow hit him high across the back. It surprised him, but wouldn’t have bothered him much if it hadn’t been for the burst of pain from where his shoulder still held buckshot. He fell to one knee, anger quickly blanking to anything else. Another movement caught his eye and he raised his arm in time to deflect the long piece of timber that rushed towards his head. His big hand gripped it and he flung it away, sending his assailant reeling after it. Leo smashed head first in to the wall, collapsing in a heap. He didn’t move again.
‘I should have killed you the first time I saw you,’ Braddock said, turning the gun on him and pulling the trigger.
The bullet went high, going through the wall as Maggie grabbed his arm. He fired again but she was on him now, yanking his head back by the hair.
He dropped the gun and reached around. ‘No more games, Maggie,’ he promised, groping for her throat with his big hand. ‘Time for you to join Frank in Hell.’
~*~
Maggie knew she was about to die. There was no doubt in her tortured mind. Braddock was bigger and stronger and a damn sight meaner than she was. He had killed everyone else who had crossed his path and she was hurt and spent. Yet when his hand started to close around her throat, she summoned one last ounce of strength.
Blood running through her fingers started a cascade of images flooding through her mind. Walt, Rick, Doc, Leo and finally, Frank. He seemed far away now, no longer whispering in her ear, but shaking his head as he retreated into the shadows.
‘Time for you to join Frank,’ Braddock said.
She raised her hand and struck down at his neck. Once. Twice. She didn’t know how many times. Blood splashed her hand, her face, and her clothes. It was getting difficult for her to hold on to the shard of mirrored glass as he tried to throw her off. When she finally let go, it didn’t matter anymore.