by B. S. Dunn
Brolin looked away to check on the progress of the fire. The main doors and the rear wall and roof were well alight. Smoke hung thickly in the air and the erstwhile passengers had squeezed themselves into one small area near the altar.
There came a groan of tortured timber, a loud crack, then a beam near the entrance gave way and a section of the roof caved in. Small roof slats, well alight, and hot chunks of smoldering wood fell to the floor in amongst the pews.
The fire had spread fast as it fed on the church’s tinder-dry wood. Brolin turned back to the fatigued men. He rushed across and pushed one of them aside so as to lend his own weight to the makeshift battering ram.
‘Come on!’ he roared at them, then he coughed violently as he inhaled a lungful of blue-grey smoke.
More roof caved in and crashed to the floor. Frightened screams echoed throughout the smoke-filled room as the passengers huddled ever closer together.
Three more times the pew hit the wall and achieved nothing. The wall remained an immovable barrier, a seemingly insurmountable obstacle between them and freedom. Brolin looked up and saw the orange-red flames as they reached out across the roof, giant tongues the seemed to inhale the dry wood. If the wall didn’t give soon they would all die.
‘Come on, you son of a bitch, break!’
The fear of imminent death spurred them on. It was a final, desperate plea. Then at last the planks splintered as the pew struck the wall. It had made only a small dent but it was enough to give them hope.
With renewed vigor they hit the wall again. This time the damage was more pronounced. They rammed at the wall over and over again until daylight shone through a narrow gap of a fallen plank. Brolin let the pew go and rushed forward. He drew back his leg and with the sole of his boot he kicked at the other damaged wall planks until he’d created a space large enough for people to squeeze through.
‘Go!’ he urged the passengers. ‘Everybody out through here.’
A steady stream of frightened people squeezed through the gap, out to the sweet fresh air. The wounded were helped out after the women and children and were followed by the men.
Once the seemingly last person had made his way out Brolin looked back to make sure everyone was safe. He noticed the lady in the blue calico dress still lying on the floor of the church. He hurried to her side. She was semi-conscious from smoke inhalation.
Brolin tucked an arm under her and used all of his strength to lift her to her feet.
‘Come with me, ma’am,’ he encouraged her. ‘This ain’t no place to hang around.’
He got her to the opening where the air was clearer and sweeter, then guided her through the gap. Once she was safe Brolin followed her out into the fresh air.
With a groan and a crash, the inevitable collapse occurred and the church roof came down, showering dust, sparks and debris in all directions.
Four
‘Thank you, Mr. Brolin,’ the lady gasped out as she regained her breath following the collapse of the church and her close call.
Brolin nodded at her and smiled. White teeth showed bright against his blackened features.
‘It was mighty hairy there for a minute, ma’am.’
‘Mary,’ the woman said.
‘Ma’am?’
‘My name,’ she explained. ‘Since you just saved my life, the least I can do is tell you my name.’
‘Well then, Mary, you’d best call me Brolin. Drop the mister.’
‘Agreed.’ She smiled back at him.
‘Do you feel OK?’ he asked.
She nodded, ‘I’m fine. Could use some water. You?’
‘Good enough for what I have to do next,’ he allowed.
Mary thought for a moment, then said:
‘You’re going after them, aren’t you?’
Brolin nodded. ‘Just as soon as I can.’
‘But why?’ she asked, concern etched on her face. ‘You’re only one man.’
Brolin turned and looked to where the now smaller family of only three members were huddled around the little boy’s body.
‘That’s why,’ he explained. ‘Because if Stall and his gang are allowed to continue their reign of terror, so much more of this will happen. Besides, I owe him for what he did ten years ago.’
‘For what he did?’
‘Remind me to tell you about it if we ever meet up again,’ Brolin said.
She watched him walk off down the road and knew that when he left she would never see him again.
Brolin walked along the dusty street to where the two dead outlaws lay. Stall had taken the time to collect the bag of valuables but nothing more.
From Wallace he took a gun-rig. In the holster was a Remington single-action Army model. It was a .45-caliber six-gun. The loops on the gunbelt were all but full. He strapped it on and tied it down to his thigh using the rawhide thongs at the bottom of the holster. He adjusted it until it felt reasonably comfortable.
After so much time without one, the weight felt unfamiliar but he knew he would get used to it. It would soon feel like an old friend.
From West, he also removed the gun-rig. His weapon of choice was a double action Colt Lightning which also took .45-caliber ammunition. He took the outlaw’s low-crowned, flat-brimmed hat and put it on. It was a little snug but would do the job.
Brolin stood erect and slung West’s gunbelt over his shoulder. He looked down at the dead outlaw. Flies buzzed about his face and crawled in and out of his open mouth.
‘Mr. Brolin?’
Brolin turned and saw the man from the train who’d lost his son.
‘What can I do for you?’ he asked somberly.
‘The lady, Mary, she said you were going after the outlaws who … who killed my boy. Is it true?’
Brolin nodded.
‘I’m coming with you,’ the man said determinedly.
‘No,’ Brolin shook his head, ‘you ain’t.’
‘Brolin, they killed my boy,’ the man pointed out. ‘So I’m goin’. With or without you.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Emmett King,’ the man told him.
King was around thirty years of age, Brolin guessed. He wore a suit and was a solidly built six-feet-tall man with brown hair and eyes.
‘Don’t you think you should stay with your family King, in their time of need?’ Brolin reminded him.
‘We live in Black Rock Falls,’ King stated. ‘My wife has family there. They’ll take care of her and Elsie until I return.’
Brolin recognized the name. It was the next town on the main line. He could see the determination on the man’s face and knew it would be a waste of time trying to dissuade him.
‘What do you do in Black Rock Falls?’ Brolin asked.
‘I own a dry-goods store,’ King confessed; he knew what Brolin was about to say.
‘Have you ever killed a man?’ Brolin asked flatly. ‘I mean, looked him in the eye and shot him down? Or how about shot a man down from a distance with a rifle, coldly and without warning?’
‘No,’ King mumbled.
‘Well, if you come with me that’s what you’ll have to do.’ Brolin was blunt. ‘These men are killers. If we’re to have half a chance to stop them you will need to think like them and become a killer like them. I’ve lived their life, King. I’m not proud of it but I know what it takes to stop men like that.’
The store owner bowed his head in shame at his own hesitation and remained silent.
‘I’m sorry about your son,’ Brolin said softly. ‘But your wife needs you. Now more than ever. Go home. I’ll get Stall and his men for you. Believe me when I say I can do it.’
King’s expression grew hard and he looked up at Brolin. His eyes blazed with fire when he said in a low menacing tone,
‘No. I’m coming with you. I want to be there when they pay for what happened to Edgar.’
Brolin took the gunbelt with the Colt Lightning down from his shoulder.
‘Here,’ he said and held it out. ‘If you�
��re coming with me you’ll need this.’
King took it and strapped it around his waist. He fiddled with it until he was comfortable.
‘Don’t shoot yourself with it,’ Brolin warned him. Then he left him standing there.
As luck would have it, in their rush to leave the ghost town Stall and his men had left behind the two dead outlaws’ horses, which still stood where they’d been hitched.
One was a buckskin, the other a bay. They had their saddles and other gear on them, which included two saddle boots complete with rifles.
The rifle on the bay was a Winchester 1866 model with an octagonal barrel and was chambered for a .44-caliber cartridge. The buckskin had an 1874 Sharps carbine. It also came with an octagonal barrel but was chambered for a .45 round.
Brolin decided that the Sharps was way too much gun for a greenhorn to handle and made up his mind to ride the buckskin himself.
He went through saddlebags and found spare ammunition. Both horses had canteens with water on them. Food they could get on the trail. In the high country grub was easy enough to come by.
Brolin looked at the sun. The great orange ball was starting to sink towards the western horizon. He wouldn’t be able to track Stall and his bunch at night, so he decided to leave at first light.
He found King saying goodbye to his wife and daughter. The woman saw Brolin’s approach and moved to meet him.
Dora King was twenty-nine. She was almost a tall as her husband and slim. Her long black hair resembled a bird’s-nest after the day’s events. Brolin guessed she had a pretty face but, under the black soot, he couldn’t quite tell. Her large brown eyes were red-rimmed and tears had made tracks in the soot on her cheeks. Her pale dress was torn in a couple of places but when she faced Brolin she held her head up and looked him in the eye.
‘Dora, don’t.’ King tried to stop his wife from what she was about to say.
‘Mr. Brolin,’ she started, her voice a little hoarse from the smoke. ‘I’ve heard all about you and what you have done. I don’t like that you are willing to take my husband along with you on this revenge ride. It is said you are a cold, heartless killer and perhaps you will succeed in your quest. But I want you to stop my husband from going with you. After today, if we … if we lost him too, I don’t know if I could go on.’
‘Dora, please ...’ King pleaded.
Brolin looked at King then back to his wife: his unwavering gaze met hers.
‘Ma’am, I’m sorry but I can’t do that,’ he apologized. ‘There are some things in life a man just has to do, even if it means he could get himself killed doin’ it. Now I’m sorry about your boy, I really am, but, if your husband’s set on comin’ along I’m not going to stop him. I’ll even welcome his help. All I can say is I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he comes back home to you and your little girl.’
Dora burst into tears once more. Not tears of sadness, but ones born of frustration and fear. Her eyes sparkled with fire as she looked Brolin squarely in the eye.
‘Damn you!’ she shouted at him before she turned to her husband. ‘And damn you too!’
She whirled around and stormed off.
King gave Brolin an apologetic look.
‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me,’ Brolin snapped. ‘I agree with her wholeheartedly. You don’t belong on this trip and there is a good chance you could get killed. But we may as well get one thing straight. If I am to get you back home to your wife and family alive, you’ll do what I say, when I say it. Or I’ll shoot you myself.’
Brolin left King standing there, open-mouthed, to ponder on his last words.
~*~
Though the dynamite blast had damaged the express car it was still operational, therefore the engineer and fireman decided that the train would be safe enough to use to get everyone back into Black Rock Falls. Shortly after dark the train pulled out of High Point. Brolin and King stood and watched it go.
After the night had swallowed the locomotive’s sounds, an eerie silence descended and joined a biting cold. Brolin and King walked over to the church where flames still licked amongst the rubble and the warmth radiated was most welcome.
While they sat King suddenly asked:
‘Why are you doing this? Going after the outlaws, I mean.’
‘Let’s just say I owe Stall for what he did.’
‘Did you do what they say?’
‘You’ve heard the stories,’ Brolin said. ‘What do you think?’
‘I want to hear it from you,’ King told him.
‘Why?’
‘I’d like to know the man I’m going to be riding with.’
‘It’s a bit late to be worryin’ about that now, ain’t it?’ Brolin asked.
‘From what I’ve observed so far,’ King explained, ‘I rather think the stories I read in the paper are somewhat exaggerated.’
‘There you go,’ Brolin said in a mocking tone. ‘You never should believe what you read in papers.’
‘So tell me then,’ King urged.
Brolin thought about it for a moment, then sighed.
‘All right. You know the part about the herd we was drivin’ to Ellsworth. The owner wanted to reach there first to get the best price on offer. He’d heard it was to be Ellsworth’s last year as a railhead. So he hired me to ramrod the drive. Lots of things went wrong on the trail and the trail herds behind us were catchin’ up. Stall rode with us on the drive and he was the one who came up with the idea to scatter the herd closest to us. I didn’t like the idea but thought it better if I went along to keep an eye on things. The last thing we were told was to steer the herd away from the night camp.’
Brolin paused as he remembered what had happened next.
‘When they scattered they started runnin’ straight at the camp. Stall was at the head of the herd and instead of tryin’ to turn ’em he let ’em run on. I tried to turn ’em but he shot me. I fell out of the saddle and hit my head. Don’t remember much after that but when I woke up I was nowhere near where I was supposed to be and had no idea who I was.
‘I staggered around for days until I was picked up by a small wagon train headed west. They took care of me and by the time my memory came back it was too late. According to the stories I was dead, so I decided to stay that way. If I’d gone back I would have been lynched.’
‘What about Stall? He was there too.’
Brolin shrugged, ‘I don’t know, I’ve heard the stories about him but that’s it. I figure he was the one who blamed me for it all. But I don’t know what happened to him after that night. I’m not surprised he turned killer like he did. He was killin’ crazy the night he ran the herd through the camp.’
‘So what happened next?’
Brolin looked at him thoughtfully then said, ‘After that we turned in and got some sleep. We have a long day comin’ up tomorrow.’
King knew enough to let it go. He did as Brolin suggested and got ready for sleep.
Five
‘What are we goin’ to do now, Mike?’ Kansas asked cautiously.
Since their departure from High Point Stall had been submerged in a dark mood. He’d lost two men and there was nothing to show for their efforts.
From the ghost town the outlaws had headed south-west and further into the high country. Now they were camped beside a stand of aspen, the straight silver trunks with small black markings stood luminescent in the pale moonlight. Nearby, a narrow stream burbled along as it snaked through the valley.
Further up the valley the howl of a lonesome wolf’ drifted along on the chilled night air.
Stall lifted his gaze from the camp fire’s dancing orange flames.
‘We’re goin’ over to Lazy River,’ he said in a low voice.
‘But we’ll have to go through Bullet Pass,’ Kansas pointed out.
‘Yeah, so? What’s your point?’
‘You’ve seen the snow on the peaks.’
‘I have,’ Stall acknowledged. ‘What? Are you scared of a
little snow?’ he scoffed.
Bullet Pass was a narrow gap between two granite-faced peaks. The old mountain men had a saying that in winter you needed to travel at the speed of a bullet to get through before the next avalanche.
‘Well, don’t you worry none, Kansas,’ Stall went on. ‘I’ll hold your hand for you until we get through if it will make you feel better. Besides, it ain’t full snow season yet. I doubt there’s enough up there to make a blasted snowman with.’
‘What are we goin’ to do in Lazy River?’ asked Ross, whose hands were wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee.
‘We’re goin’ to hit the bank there before we head north to Canada. Once we get over the border we’ll circle to the east and cross back over into Dakota. Then we’re goin’ after the prize. A big pay-day that’ll see us settin’ pretty for a while.’
Now he held their interest.
‘Where might this big prize be?’ asked Blaine
‘We’re goin’ to the Black Hills.’
The shock on Blaine’s face was obvious. ‘The hell you say!’
‘The Homestake mine is shippin’ gold out like you wouldn’t believe,’ Stall explained. ‘So I figured I wanted to get me some of that action.’
‘We can’t go robbin’ the Homestake,’ Blaine warned. ‘Do you know how many guards they have on their shipments?’
‘You let me worry about it,’ Stall said, trying to allay the outlaw’s fears. ‘I’ll get us some more help before then. It won’t matter how many ways we have to split the gold, we’ll have enough to be rich ten times over.’
Stall’s men liked the sound of it, though every one of them was hoping the outlaw boss knew what he was doing.
~*~
‘Where do you think they’re headed?’ King asked as the narrow trail began to climb.
‘Bullet Pass,’ Brolin answered without looking back.
This was their third day on the outlaws’ trail and they’d still not gained any ground on them. King, being a townsman, was unused to the rough going in the saddle. Here in the wilderness he was a hindrance, serving only to slow Brolin down.
‘Is that a town?’
‘Nope.’