Well, she could deal with that, too.
She stopped at the back of a building and looked up at the door that sat at the top of three steps. That was the rear entrance of the Pronghorn, she knew. Not far on the other side of that door was the only man who stood in the way of her retaining her grip on this community.
Simone's fingers tightened on the gun. She went up the three steps, grasped the knob of the saloon's back door, turned it, and went in.
* * *
Cole spotted Judson Kent, Michael Hatfield, and Jeremiah Newton walking down Grenville Avenue ahead of him, and from the direction they were going, it seemed they might be bound for the Pronghorn, as unlikely as that was. Increasing his pace, Cole lifted a hand and called out to them.
The three men stopped and turned to greet him. Michael asked excitedly, "Have the ballots been counted?"
"Not that I know of," Cole replied. "Give it a little more time, Michael. Where are you fellas headed?"
"I'm going to the Pronghorn to get a statement from Parker," explained Michael. "Dr. Kent and Jeremiah agreed to come along."
Cole frowned. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Judson?" he asked the doctor. "Parker may not be very happy to see you."
"I expect he won't be," Kent said. "But I think it's appropriate that the two of us be together when the results of the election are announced, don't you?"
Cole thought about it for a moment. He had been planning to take Parker into custody, but if the arrest had waited this long, it could wait a little longer. There was something appealing about Michael's suggestion, all right. And since Cole had already decided to accompany the three of them to the Pronghorn, it wasn't very likely Parker would start any trouble.
Besides, Cole wanted to watch Parker's face when the saloonkeeper found out he had lost the election. Cole had a feeling that was going to be the case.
"All right," he said. "Let's go."
Walking side by side on the boardwalk, the four men had gone less than a block when Billy Casebolt appeared on the corner ahead of them, emerging from a side street. He grinned at them and said, "Howdy, fellers. You look like you're settin' out on some serious business. Anything wrong?"
"We're just going down to the Pronghorn to wait for the election results," Cole told the deputy. "You want to come along, Billy?"
"I had in mind headin' down there anyway, just to get a drink." Casebolt chuckled. "Looks like Parker's goin' to get even more business than he counted on today."
"He's going to be mighty surprised when he sees all of us come in," Michael said.
They were only a few doors away from the saloon now. They crossed one more alley mouth and stepped back up on the boardwalk.
A pair of gunshots cracked through the air, and Cole knew immediately that they came from inside the Pronghorn.
"Stay back!" .Cole snapped at Kent, Michael, and Jeremiah. "Come on, Billy!" He was reaching for his gun as he broke into a trot.
Casebolt was right behind him. Cole had his revolver in one hand as he slapped the batwings aside with the other and hurried into the saloon. He stopped short at what he saw, and Casebolt almost plowed into his back, the deputy catching himself just in time. Curious about what was going on, the doctor, the editor, and the blacksmith disregarded Cole's orders and crowded into the doorway behind the two lawmen.
Some of the saloon's customers were rapidly diving for cover, while others sat at the tables and gaped up toward the balcony overlooking the big room, mouths open in shock. Cole could understand how they felt. He was looking at something he had never expected to see.
Simone McKay and Hank Parker stood on the balcony. Simone had a gun in her hand, and the barrel of the pistol was pointed straight at Parker's head. The muzzle didn't waver even a fraction of an inch as Simone held it rock steady. Parker stood about ten feet from her, his one arm half lifted in a gesture of surrender. "Hold on there, Mrs. McKay," he was saying nervously. "Why don't you just point that gun somewhere else?"
"Simone!" Cole exclaimed.
She didn't turn her head toward him, didn't give any indication that she had heard him. She stared over the barrel of the gun at Parker and said in a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the room, "You can't have Wind River. It's mine."
Parker swallowed hard and said, "Look, lady, just put down the gun. We'll talk about whatever's bothering you."
Behind Cole, Judson Kent said quietly, "Oh, my God, what's happened to her?"
Cole thought he knew. He had seen the same stiff expression Simone now wore, the same blazing-eyed stare, in men who had finally been pushed too far, men who were willing to go to any lengths to remove whatever was tormenting them.
Simone was a little bit mad, he thought, and somehow she had gotten out of that hotel room and gotten her hands on a gun. Then she had come here to kill Hank Parker. Cole was sure of it.
"Reckon we'd better do somethin', Marshal?" Casebolt asked nervously. "Miz McKay acts like she don't even know we're here."
"Maybe she doesn't," Cole said. Slowly he holstered his gun. "Let's all just take it easy. Maybe I can go up there and talk some sense into her." He started toward the foot of the stairs.
"You killed her!" Simone suddenly accused Parker. "You were trying to get rid of me, so you had Becky Lewis blackmail me just to give me a motive for murdering her! But you're the one who killed her, Parker. You knew I'd be blamed for it, and you knew I'd have to drop out of the election! It was you all along, it was you!"
Cole paused at the foot of the stairs. Simone might be out of her head, but what she was saying made sense. Maybe she wasn't crazy at all, he thought. Maybe she was just fed up with Parker getting away with the frame he had built around her.
Parker's face was pale, and he was still sweating. "That's a lie!" he said angrily. "I didn't kill anybody."
Cole glanced around. The saloon was just about deserted now, with the exception of Casebolt, Kent, Michael, and Jeremiah. And one of the bartenders, who stood practically cowering at the end of the bar. Cole caught the man's eye and asked, "What happened?"
"She's crazy, Marshal!" the man exclaimed. "She must've snuck in the back, because all of a sudden she was in here waving that gun around and demanding to see the boss. When he stepped out onto the balcony, she ran up the stairs and took a couple of shots at him. You'd better shoot her before she kills somebody, Marshal!"
"There's been enough killing," Cole snapped. He turned his attention back to the tableau at the top of the stairs. "Simone, we'll handle this now," he said. "Why don't you just put the gun down and let me take care of Parker?"
For the first time, Simone seemed to hear him. She turned her head a little and said, "Cole . . . ?"
Parker tried to take advantage of her distraction and darted toward a nearby open doorway. Simone jerked the trigger of the pistol, and the gun cracked wickedly. The bullet struck Parker in the left shoulder and jerked him around. He stumbled to a halt and pressed his hand against the wound.
"If you move again, I'll kill you!" Simone screamed at him. "Now tell them the truth! Tell everyone the truth! I didn't kill Becky Lewis—you did!"
Down below, Kermit Sawyer and Lon Rogers came through the bat-winged entrance, and the middle-aged cattleman frowned and said, "What the hell—!"
Casebolt said, "Hush! Get out o' here if you can't be quiet."
Sawyer and Lon exchanged a glance and stayed where they were, silent and watchful now.
Cole had considered rushing up the stairs at Simone when she fired the shot, but he knew he couldn't reach her in time to keep her from pulling the trigger again. The little revolver probably had at least two rounds left in its cylinder. At this range, even the small-caliber gun could be fatal.
Instead he took one step and then paused, hoping he could keep Simone talking long enough to work his way closer to her. Making sure his voice was calm, he said to her, "Killing Parker won't help anything, Simone. I came here to arrest him. I've got a witness who says he was up at the church the night Becky Lewis wa
s killed."
"That's a damn lie!" Parker said, still gritting his teeth against the pain of his wounded shoulder. "I wasn't anywhere near the place."
Michael Hatfield spoke up. "Then why did you come to my office and make sure I'd be up there that night, Parker? You had to be certain there would be a witness on hand to implicate Mrs. McKay."
"I was just trying to help the Lewis girl," Parker said, an edge of desperation creeping into his voice. "After all she suffered at the hands of the McKays, she deserved whatever she could get!"
"I think you killed her," Michael shot back. "I'm the one who saw you up there. I saw a one-armed man fighting with Becky Lewis!"
"You're crazy, too!" growled Parker. "You've all been out to get me, ever since I came to Wind River!"
"All right," Cole said suddenly. "Maybe what we all ought to do is just clear out, Parker, and leave you here alone with Mrs. McKay. The two of you can settle this between yourselves."
"No!" Parker exclaimed. "You . . . you can't do that! She's a lunatic. Just look at her! She'll kill me like she killed her husband!"
Cole began, "That's just the lie Becky Lewis used—"
"No, it's the truth!" Parker broke in. "Becky convinced me. She was there on the platform that day! She saw Mrs. McKay shoot her husband."
"It's much more likely," Judson Kent put in, "that the Lewis woman herself was guilty of Andrew McKay's murder—"
"No," Simone whispered in a choked voice that made everyone else in the room fall silent. "No, that woman didn't shoot Andrew."
Cole wasn't sure what Simone meant by that, but it didn't matter right now. What was important was getting the truth out of Parker. "What about it, Parker?" he asked. "Do you tell us the truth, or do we leave you with Mrs. McKay?"
"You can't do that!" Parker protested. "You're the law!"
Cole started to back down the stairs.
"All right!" Parker cried raggedly. "I did it! I killed that little slut! She was worth more to me dead than alive. Are you satisfied, Tyler? Are all of you satisfied, damn it?"
Simone let out a long sigh, and the hand holding the gun suddenly drooped.
Parker's face wore a look of horror. He realized he had just confessed to Becky Lewis's murder, and he must have been seeing his dream of being the mayor of Wind River disappear like smoke. He must have been seeing himself standing on a gallows and then plummeting through the trap to wind up at the end of a hangrope . . .
With an inarticulate shout of rage, he leaped toward Simone, his hand dropping away from his wounded shoulder and sweeping underneath his coat to pluck a gun from a hidden holster.
Cole saw the pistol emerge in Parker's hand and lunged up the remaining stairs toward Simone. "Get down!" he shouted, planting a hand in her back and shoving her roughly to the side as he went to one knee at the head of the stairs. The gun in Parker's hand blasted, and a slug whipped past Cole's head.
Then his own revolver was in his hand and bucking against his palm as it came level. More shots crashed against Cole's ears, and he saw dust leaping from the front of Parker's coat and vest as bullet after bullet thudded into the saloonkeeper's body.
Cole triggered twice and saw both of his slugs drive into Parker's chest. The man did a jittering, grotesque little dance under the impact of the lead, then slumped against the wall. His gun slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor of the balcony.
As the shooting stopped, Parker lurched away from the wall, leaving an ugly bloodstain behind. He careened across the balcony and hit the railing, which cracked and split apart under his burly body. Parker fell heavily, landing on a poker table, which splintered into kindling under him. He lay motionless in the debris.
Cole took a deep breath and looked toward the entrance to the saloon. Billy Casebolt and the others stood just inside the batwings where he had left them, and powder smoke drifted from the muzzle of the deputy's gun. But Kermit Sawyer and Lon Rogers were both holding smoking revolvers, too, and Cole knew they had taken part in the fusillade that had blown Hank Parker to hell.
The violence was over. Cole jammed his gun back in its holster and turned anxiously toward Simone.
* * *
Her ears rang deafeningly from the gunshots, but still she was able to hear the familiar voice that boomed out at her. "You!" it accused. "It was you! Now I know the truth!"
Simone was lying on the balcony, next to the wall where Cole Tyler had shoved her to get her out of the way of the murderous saloonkeeper's shots. Now she saw Andrew standing there in front of the broken railing, his hand lifted so that he could point a finger at her. His ghostly features were set in grim, angry lines.
"No, Andrew!" she cried. "It's a lie! He was lying! I never would have hurt you!"
"I know the truth," he repeated. "I didn't want to believe it, but they're all here now—William and Becky and Parker. They've told me the truth about you. You killed me, Simone. You killed me!"
"Noooo!" she screamed as she came to her feet and pointed the gun she still held at him.
"Simone!" Cole said urgently as he drew back, away from the barrel of the gun she was waving around wildly. "Simone, stop it! It's over now! Nobody's going to hurt you."
"Get away!" she cried, but she didn't seem to be talking to him. "Leave me alone, damn you! I never wanted to kill you! I just wanted you to appreciate me! There wouldn't have even been a town here without me, but you and William acted like it was all your doing! And then you went to that slut's bed . . . Damn you, Andrew! Damn you, damn you, damn you! I'm glad I killed you! Now go away and leave me alone!"
Cole and all the others in the saloon were staring at her, aghast and amazed at what they were hearing.
The gun Simone held was shaking crazily now as she put both hands on it and tried to aim it at the empty air where the balcony railing had been.
Cole edged toward her, slowly and carefully, thinking that maybe he could dive underneath the gun and tackle her. She had been out of her head before, but she was completely mad now, he sensed, and the knowledge made him feel hollow inside. But she was still his friend, and she needed help.
If he had to, he would risk his life to give her that help.
Andrew still stood there, mocking her with his presence and that accusing finger he was pointing at her. Simone didn't know where she was anymore, was not aware of anything except the face staring at her with that awful expression on it. In a voice like thunder rolling over the Wyoming plains, Andrew opened his mouth again and intoned, "You . . . killed. . . me!"
"Shut up!" Simone screamed, and the gun jumped in her hands as she jerked the trigger. She fired again and again, the hammer striking now on empty chambers as the cylinder whirled. Still Andrew stood there, the bullets having no effect on him. He started to speak again, but Simone couldn't bear to hear his voice.
Shrieking out her rage, she flung the empty gun aside and threw herself at him, her hands reaching out for his throat, willing to do anything to silence the terrible truth that came from him.
Suddenly she felt cold, a deep, numbing cold, unlike anything she had ever experienced. And she seemed to be floating, taking the cold with her as she plunged into nothingness. Faintly she heard a cracking sound, and instantly, to her incredible relief, the cold was gone, replaced by warmth. Warmth, and a darkness that spread up around her, cradling her like a gentle hand, comforting her as it enveloped her and carried her away.
Simone went willingly. Andrew was finally gone, and that was all that mattered. She didn't care about anything else.
Until the warmth became heat, and it grew hotter and hotter until Simone began screaming again. Her skin blistered agonizingly, and everything inside her seemed to shrivel. But even that wasn't the worst of it.
She knew that when she got to where she was going, Andrew would be waiting for her. After all, she had found his killer at last. She had freed him.
And he would be there to greet her.
Chapter 20
Judson Kent looked up from the
body sprawled beside Hank Parker's and said, "She's dead." The doctor seemed to have aged ten years in the past few moments, like everyone else in the saloon.
Cole stood at the edge of the balcony, next to the broken railing. He clenched his hands into fists, closed his eyes, and said miserably, "Damn it! If I had just been a little faster. . ."
"The fall broke her neck," Kent went on, as if Cole hadn't spoken. "No doubt she died almost instantly."
Cole shook his head, turned away from the edge, and went slowly down the stairs.
To his surprise, a very pale and shaken Brenda Durand was waiting for him at the bottom. He frowned at her and asked, "Where did you come from?"
Brenda pointed toward the rear hallway that emerged near the base of the staircase. "I was hiding back there," she said. "I saw Mrs. McKay sneaking in here with a gun, and I followed her. What. . . what happened?"
Cole looked at the pair of bodies on the sawdust-littered floor of the saloon and said quietly, "Judgment day. I reckon it caught up to more than one of us today."
Michael Hatfield was as pale as Brenda as he came up to Cole. He had to swallow hard a couple of times before he was able to ask, "Do you . . . do you think she was telling the truth, Marshal? There at the end, I mean?"
"I don't know, Michael. She was saying what she thought was true." Cole sighed, struggling to accept all the implications of what had happened here. "I'd say there was a good chance she was telling the truth."
"But that would mean . . . that Mrs. McKay really killed . . . Oh, Lord!" Michael looked sick, but he was fighting against it.
Judson Kent stood up, took off his coat, and draped it over Simone's face and upper body. Just before her features disappeared underneath the garment, Cole was struck by how twisted and frightened they were.
As if Simone had found something even worse than death.
Jeremiah moved up and knelt beside the bodies. He began praying silently, his head back, and Cole wasn't sure if he was saying a prayer for Simone or for Hank Parker. Both of them probably could have used it, Cole thought. Right about now, everybody in here could use a prayer said for them.
Judgement Day (Wind River Book 6) Page 20