A Town Called Fury

by William W. Johnstone

  Jason and Matt exchanged a silent glance. Chinamen? What Chinamen?

  “Maybe we could talk the boss into not sellin’ the redhead,” the other outlaw replied.

  “You mean the young one? Alba’d never let us have her. Damn yellow bastards’ve promised too much money for the likes o’ her.”

  “No, I mean the older one, the whore. Hell, as much as she’s been used, she can’t be worth a whole lot, even to a Chink.”

  They were talking about Abigail Krimp, and even though Abigail made no bones about what her profession was, it angered Jason to hear the men talking about her in such a callous fashion.

  “Yeah, the boss could’ve let us have a little fun with her and the other older one, instead o’ makin’ us keep our hands off like he did with the two young ones.”

  Was it possible? Jason asked himself. Could it be that none of the prisoners had been molested yet? All because Juan Alba was planning to sell them to some unknown Chinese?

  Jason’s brain was whirling as he tried to sort everything out, but he knew one thing—they would take any stroke of luck they could get. He glanced at the window and saw that the sky outside was still dark, without even a hint of gray yet. Dawn was still at least a couple of hours away. He hadn’t been sure about that, because it seemed like it had taken him and Matt hours to crawl to the house and find a way in through the stable.

  He wished the two guards would talk about where the prisoners were being held, but it seemed like they had provided all the information they were going to provide. They started reminiscing about some particularly sordid adventure in some cantina in Nogales instead. Jason knew that he and Matt couldn’t wait here forever. It was time to make their move.

  He could see across the aisle into one of the stalls. A big rangy dun horse was standing there, munching at some hay. Jason slipped a bullet from one of the loops on his shell belt and whispered to Matt, “If only one of them comes down here to see what’s going on, you take him. I’ll get the other one.”

  Matt nodded, and Jason was thankful that for once Matt wasn’t going to be argumentative. He drew back his arm, took a deep breath, and threw the bullet across the aisle, hoping that his aim was true.

  It was. The bullet hit the horse in the head and bounced off, rattling a little as it hit the floor and rolled across the stone. The horse jerked his head up, let out a startled whinny, and shifted in the stall.

  “What the hell?” one of the guards said.

  “Something spooked one of the horses. Maybe a snake got in here or something.”

  “I guess I better go see.” The man who was already standing sighed and started walking toward the far end of the stable.

  Jason drew his knife, looked at Matt, and gave him a grim nod. Matt had his knife out and ready as well. Hidden from sight by the wall of the stall next to them, they rose into a crouch.

  The guard’s footsteps echoed against the low ceiling as he approached. Without looking toward the little alcove where the drain opening was located, the outlaw looked into the stall at the dun and asked, “What’s got you spooked, boy?” Then he shook his head and added, “Whoo-ee, what’s that stink?”

  Jason and Matt exploded into action.

  Chapter 28

  Matt lunged out of the alcove first, throwing himself across the aisle toward the man who stood in front of the dun’s stall. The outlaw heard him coming and tried to turn, but he was too late. Matt’s left arm looped around his neck and jerked him backward, and at the same time Matt drove the knife in his right hand into the man’s back.

  Jason burst into the aisle right behind Matt. He had the tougher job. The guard who had been sitting on the stool leaped to his feet, a startled look on his face, and swung his shotgun up.

  Jason’s right arm drew back and flashed forward. The knife left his hand and flew through the air, turning over twice in its flight so that the light from the lantern winked on the shining blade. An instant later, the knife struck the guard in the chest with a meaty thunk! Jason had put all his strength behind the throw. The only question was whether or not it would be accurate enough.

  It was. The blade sank deep in the outlaw’s chest. The painful, shocking impact was enough to drive him back a step. His mouth hung open as he stared down at the hilt of the knife where it stuck out of his body. The shotgun slipped from his fingers and fell butt-first to the floor.

  Jason was already moving even as the knife whirled through the air. By the time the guard dropped the shotgun, Jason was close enough to dive forward and reach for it. All their efforts would be for naught if the scattergun discharged. That twin boom would warn the rest of the outlaws in the house that something was wrong.

  The butt of the shotgun thudded against the floor, practically stopping Jason’s heart. But it didn’t go off, and he wrapped his hand around the double barrels before the weapon could topple over. He hit the stone floor and rolled over, coming back up on his feet.

  The outlaw with the knife in his chest was swaying back and forth, but he hadn’t fallen yet. His left hand made feeble pawing motions at the knife, but his right struggled to pull a revolver from its holster.

  Jason didn’t give him a chance to complete the draw. He stepped closer and smashed the shotgun’s butt into the man’s face, breaking bones and sending blood spurting from crushed nose and pulped lips. The outlaw went over backward, his face a crimson ruin. He didn’t suffer long from the pain of that injury, though. He spasmed a couple of times and then lay still, his final breath rattling in his throat. The knife wound in his chest had finally claimed his life.

  Turning toward the other end of the stable, Jason saw that Matt had lowered his man to the floor. As Jason watched, Matt pushed the knife even deeper in the outlaw’s back. The man twitched a time or two as he died.

  The whole thing had been accomplished in near-silence. The only sounds had been grunts of pain and effort, the scuffling of boot leather on the stone floor, and the butt of the shotgun hitting the floor, Jason knew those noises couldn’t have been heard in the house.

  He dragged his man into the alcove by the drain and motioned for Matt to do likewise. Then he said, “We stink to high heaven. That’s liable to give us away inside the house. We’ll take the clothes from these two. That might help a little.”

  Matt grimaced. “They’ve got blood on them.”

  “Better blood than horseshit. It doesn’t smell quite so bad.”

  Matt shrugged in acceptance. Moving as fast as they could, they stripped the clothes from the dead men, took off their own reeking garments, and pulled on the trousers and bloodstained shirts of the guards. They took the outlaws’ hats as well.

  The man Jason had killed had worn a cowhide vest. Jason pulled it over the crimson stain on the shirt as best he could. The bloodstain on Matt’s shirt was on the back, so it might not be seen right away.

  “We’ll keep our heads down,” Jason said. “Maybe if anybody sees us, they’ll take us for these two hombres.”

  “What if some more guards show up?” Matt asked.

  “I’m sure they will sooner or later, but I’m hoping not until dawn anyway. As late as it is, these two probably had the night shift.”

  Matt nodded. “I’m ready if you are.”

  “Keep your eyes open.”

  “Where do you think the prisoners are?”

  “I don’t have any idea,” Jason answered. “We’ll just have to look around.”

  Carrying the shotguns, they moved into the passageway between the stable and the house. The door at the far end was closed. Jason eased it open while Matt stood by with his shotgun at the ready. An empty corridor was on the other side of the door.

  They made their way along the corridor in swift silence. At the far end, they came to a staircase that led both up and down. Jason tried to estimate their position and figured they were at the end of the house where the tower was located. He wondered if Juan Alba’s chamber was up in that tower. Since Alba was the leader of the gang, that seemed
to be the logical place for him to stay, above everyone else.

  Jason’s knew that if there was a dungeon in this place, it would be down below. He pointed down the stairs and nodded to Matt, who returned the nod. With Jason going first, they started descending.

  Before they reached the bottom, they heard the soft murmur of voices. Jason slowed to a creeping pace, placing each foot with extreme care before he let his weight down on it. The staircase reached a landing between floors and turned back on itself. Light shone at the bottom.

  Jason stopped where he was still out of sight of the men who were below and listened to them talking, trying to make out the words. It was difficult, because their voices were obscured by a constant noise that Jason soon recognized as the sound of the waves from the Gulf. They were close to the long drop; that was why he could hear the pounding of the surf on the rocks below.

  He caught a few references to the prisoners, and his heart thudded harder when he heard one of the men say something about letting them out of their cells in the morning, before the ships arrived.

  Those ships would be carrying the Chinamen who planned to purchase the women from Alba, Jason guessed. And the mention of cells made him think that he and Matt had come to the right place. The prisoners were close by. He could feel it in his bones.

  He moved back up a couple of steps to whisper to Matt about what he had overheard. Matt tensed and whispered back, “Let’s go get them, damn it. They have to be right down there!”

  “We don’t know how many guards there are,” Jason argued. “We might not be able to get rid of them without making a racket and waking up the rest of the house.”

  “So what do we do? Wait?”

  The scornful tone of Matt’s whisper made it clear what he thought of that idea. Jason would have continued the discussion if at that moment he hadn’t heard footsteps somewhere on the stairs above them.

  And those steps were coming down, straight toward them.

  He and Matt exchanged alarmed glances. Now they had no choice. They couldn’t just wait here on the stairs to be discovered.

  “Follow my lead,” he whispered to Matt.

  Then he tugged the brim of the borrowed hat down as far over his face as he could and started down the stairs at a normal pace, making the turn at the landing and clattering down to the corridor below as if he didn’t have a care in the world, as if he was supposed to be there.

  Matt followed, also assuming a nonchalant gait.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they found themselves in a corridor similar to the one above, only this one was shorter and had a pair of heavy doors on each side. The small, barred windows in each door identified the rooms beyond as cells where prisoners could be locked up. The presence of two men standing guard in the corridor told Jason those cells were occupied.

  The two outlaws looked surprised but not alarmed. Jason knew they had taken him and Matt for fellow members of the gang. He had known that changing clothes with the dead men in the stable was going to come in handy. He whistled a flat little tune as he walked toward the guards.

  “What are you fellas doin’ here, Ford?” one of the outlaws asked. “I thought you and Fargo were posted out in the stable tonight.”

  Jason made his voice rough and hoarse as he replied, “Change of orders. We’re takin’ over here.”

  The other guard frowned. “Nobody told us—Hey! You ain’t Ford and Fargo!”

  Jason hadn’t expected the deception to work for very long, just long enough to get close enough to the guards so that he and Matt could strike in silence. But that had failed, so they had to try another tack.

  He brought the shotgun up and eared back both hammers as he pointed the twin barrels at the guards. Both men froze in the act of reaching for the guns on their hips. Staring into the gaping double maw of a scattergun had that effect on folks.

  “Freeze,” Jason grated. “At this range, if I pull these triggers, the buckshot will smear you boys all over the walls.”

  The outlaws didn’t move, just stared at Jason and Matt in shock and anger.

  “Take your guns out slow and careful-like,” Jason went on. “Bend over, put them on the floor, and slide them over here.”

  One of the guards sneered. “The hell with you, mister. I don’t know who you are, but if you pull those triggers, you’ll have everybody else in the house down on you in about five seconds. Kill us and you’re dead too.”

  “Yeah, well, that won’t help you any, will it?” Matt said. He had stepped up beside Jason and leveled his shotgun at one of the guards. “I’m aiming right for your face, you son of a bitch. There won’t be enough of your head left for your own mama to recognize you.”

  The tense standoff continued for a couple of heartbeats until a face suddenly appeared at the barred window of one of the doors. “Jason! Matt!” a ragged voice cried. “Oh, thank God!”

  Jason recognized Jenny’s voice, but managed to keep his gaze locked on the two outlaws. Matt didn’t have that much self-discipline. His head jerked to the side as he choked out, “Jenny!”

  “Take ’em!” one of the guards yelled as his hand dipped toward his gun in a hook and draw.

  Now it was too late to do anything except kill or be killed.

  Chapter 29

  Jason moved as fast as he had ever moved in his life. He lunged forward, thrusting the shotgun out in front of him, aiming the barrels at the closest guard’s face. The barrels struck the man in the mouth, which was open to shout a curse. The impact shattered the outlaw’s teeth and drove them back in his throat, choking him. At the same moment, Jason barreled into the man, knocking him off his feet.

  Matt tried the same tactic as Jason, but wasn’t quite fast enough to pull it off. The second guard managed to get his gun out of its holster and twist aside from Matt’s rush. But before he could pull the trigger, Matt cracked the shotgun barrels across the wrist of his gun hand. The man yelped in pain and dropped the revolver.

  A few feet away, Jason came down with a knee in his opponent’s groin. The outlaw tried to scream, but the sound couldn’t get past his mangled mouth. Jason lifted the shotgun and brought the butt down hard against the man’s jaw. He felt the satisfying crunch of bone. The guard jerked and then stiffened, either dead or out cold. Jason didn’t know which and didn’t care.

  He glanced over and saw Matt wrestling with the second guard. Matt had a hand clamped around the man’s throat to keep him from shouting a warning to whoever was coming down the stairs. He didn’t see the man pull a knife from somewhere and raise it high, poised to bring it down into Matt’s back in a killing stroke.

  Jason saw it, though, and threw himself across the intervening space. He grabbed the man’s wrist as the knife started down and wrenched it to the side. While Jason was doing that, Matt snatched up the revolver the outlaw had dropped and slammed it against the man’s head. Matt struck twice more, the blows falling with savage strength, and when he pulled the gun back to hit the outlaw again, Jason said, “Forget it. He’s dead.”

  Matt blinked, then swallowed hard as he looked down at the outlaw’s misshapen skull. The blows had caved it in and left it distorted grotesquely.

  Jason pushed himself to his feet, grabbed Matt’s arm, and hauled him upright too. By now the other three women were at the doors of their cells, peering out into the corridor like Jenny. Jason saw the relief on Megan’s face and wanted to go to her, but there was no time.

  Someone was still coming down the stairs, and whoever it was, they were close now.

  There was no place for Jason and Matt to hide in the corridor, so they would have to meet the trouble head-on. “Stay here!” Jason hissed at Matt. “Protect the women!”

  Then he ran toward the stairs and bounded up toward the landing, taking the steps two at a time and drawing his knife as he did so.

  He reached the landing at the same time as the man who was coming down, and as they suddenly faced each other, both of them froze for a second in surprise. Jason
was shocked to find himself staring into the face of Flores, the man who had shot and wounded Wash Keough at Abigail Krimp’s place back in Fury, what seemed like an eternity ago. As for Flores, he was startled into immobility for a second by finding an intruder in Juan Alba’s stronghold.

  The two men recovered from their surprise at the same time. Flores clawed for the gun on his hip, but before the weapon could clear leather, Jason had stabbed him in the belly. Using the strength in his powerful arms and shoulders, Jason ripped the blade to one side and then back the other way, opening up Flores so that the man’s guts spilled out. Flores groaned in pain and fell forward, crashing into Jason.

  Unable to keep his balance under Flores’s weight, Jason went over backward and tumbled down the steps. Flores fell with him, losing more blood with every bounce. The two men wound up at the bottom of the stairs, tangled together in a gory mess. Jason grimaced as he shoved the bloody corpse to the side and scooted away from it. He was so shaky when he got to his feet that he had to put a hand against the stone wall to steady himself.

  He looked down and saw that he was covered with blood, but all of it belonged to Flores. Jason was unhurt.

  He drew in a ragged breath, and then hurried back along the corridor to where Matt was bending over the bodies of the guards. Matt came up holding a ring of keys he had taken from one of the men.

  “One of these ought to open those locks,” Matt said as he brandished the keys.

  He went to the door of Jenny’s cell and began trying the keys in the padlock. While Matt was doing that, Jason hurried over to Megan’s cell and asked her, “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “None of us are hurt, just scared. They . . . they let us alone because Alba plans to sell us to some Chinese warlords.”

  Jason nodded. “We overheard some of the outlaws talking and figured it was something like that. Thank God all of you are all right. Now we just have to get you out of here.”

  “Did you and Matt come alone?”