by B. S. Dunn
Then it happened.
In a blur of movement the twin Colts seemed to leap into the gunfighter’s hands already cocked. King stood there, blinking in wonderment.
Brolin slipped them back into the holsters and nodded, satisfied. He’d finally come full circle. Brolin the gunfighter was back.
~*~
‘Don’t tell me. They weren’t anywhere to be seen.’ Stall’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
‘That’s about it,’ Kansas agreed.
The outlaw boss lurched to his feet.
‘If you want somethin’ done right, do it yourself. Come on, damn it!’
Sixteen
‘If we don’t come back, Doc, get out of town,’ Brolin directed. ‘It’ll be safer for you.’
‘I can’t leave my patient,’ Ford told him.
Brolin shrugged. ‘Up to you.’
The gunfighter reached into his pocket and took out the picture, thankful the river hadn’t taken it from him. He gave it to Ford.
‘If I get killed out there, can you to send a letter to ...?’
The doctor nodded. ‘Sure; just tell me where.’
Ford wrote down where the letter was to go and put both it and the picture on his mantelshelf above the fireplace.
Once more, from habit, Brolin checked the loads in his Peacemakers.
‘Stay inside until we get back,’ he said. Then to King, ‘It’s time.’
After they had left Candy turned her concerned look to the doctor.
‘Do you think they’ll be OK?’
‘I sure hope so Candy,’ Ford said quietly. ‘I sure hope so.’
~*~
Brolin and King were making their way along the snow-covered main street towards the bridge when the three outlaws appeared in front of them.
Kansas stood in the centre, with Stall on his left and Murphy to his right. As they approached they fanned out across the street to make harder targets.
Brolin let his right hand rest on the butt of his six-gun.
‘Is that scattergun cocked?’ he asked King.
‘Yes.’ King sounded nervous.
‘When this starts, take the feller on the left,’ Brolin told him. ‘Give him both barrels, throw the scattergun away, then get your six-gun working. Don’t stop until they’re all down.’
King swallowed hard. ‘OK.’
Less than twenty yards separated the two groups when they stopped.
‘I see you’re still alive,’ Stall observed. ‘I had me a feelin’ you’d be back.’
‘It’s time for all this to end, Stall,’ Brolin said.
Stall’s cold gaze settled upon King.
‘Step aside, greenhorn,’ he warned him. ‘This is a game for men. Not some dandy such as yourself.’
‘I’m stayin’.’
‘As you wish.’
‘When you’re ready, Stall,’ Brolin’s words were quiet, yet sounded deafening in the tense situation.
Stall licked his lips nervously. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jacket, then settled.
‘I know one thing,’ he stated. ‘This time, you’re goin’ to stay dead.’
Hands flashed and guns came out. The adversaries snapped into line and it began.
If there had been witnesses they would have sworn that the leaden sky above the town had opened up as a thunderous roar from the shotgun drowned everything out.
Brolin was still as fast as he’d ever been. He squeezed the Colt’s trigger and it roared into life. Kansas went down with a bullet wound in his chest.
Brolin felt the impact of a slug as it burned deep. He shifted his aim to cover Stall, but the outlaw leader had turned tail after his first shot and was running.
Brolin fired at him. The slug hit high in the right side of his back. Stall lurched forward but remained on his feet. He kept going into an alley and disappeared.
Brolin shifted his aim across to Murphy, but he needn’t have worried. The shotgun had done its bloody work and the outlaw was a pile of bloodstained rags in the snow.
‘Are you OK?’ Brolin asked King.
The store owner was stunned at the violence of what had just happened.
‘Yeah, I … I think so,’ he stammered. ‘I’m wounded, though. My shoulder.’
He pulled back his shirt to reveal the red mark where a bullet had torn a furrow in his flesh.
‘You ain’t the only one,’ Brolin said, feeling his own wound start to burn.
He didn’t have to look to know that he’d been hit hard. He was still on his feet and that was what mattered.
He started off after Stall. The blood had begun to run freely from the wound in his chest. He tried to ignore the pain, grinding his teeth together.
When he turned into the alley he found it empty. A wave of intense pain swept through him and he staggered before regaining his balance.
His pants were becoming soaked now as blood flowed freely. His vision blurred a little and he shook his head to clear the cobwebs.
The alley led in to another street, where there were occasional vacant lots between the buildings. Stall was nowhere in sight, but as he looked down the street Brolin saw a clear blood trail leading away to his right. Thank God it had snowed! he thought.
The gunfighter followed the bright-red trail. He decided that, judging from the amount of blood the outlaw was losing, he had been hit every bit as hard as he, Brolin, had.
Brolin drew level with a laundry and stopped as another fierce wave of pain assailed his senses. He screwed his eyes shut tightly as he willed it to stop.
After it had passed he moved on. His legs were beginning to feel like lead. He was weak from blood loss and needed to find Stall soon, or he wouldn’t be able to continue.
As he trudged onwards his legs got heavier with each step. Blood was still flowing from the wound in his chest.
The crack of a gunshot was quickly followed by the slam of a bullet into his midriff.
Brolin slumped down on to his knees as a weird numbness spread throughout his body. The Peacemaker had fallen from his grasp and lay beside him in the snow-covered street.
Another gunshot roared. The slug whacked into the ground beside him.
Brolin looked up to see Stall stagger out into the open. His face was a mask of hatred and pain. The outlaw boss raised his gun and fired yet again. The bullet dug into the hardpack in front of Brolin.
Stall took a lurching step forward and fired once more. The bullet passed close enough to fan Brolin’s cheek.
Another painful step forward and Stall took deliberate aim. The six-gun he held in his fist waved about as he fought against its weight. His strength was ebbing fast as lifeblood drained away.
‘I ain’t goin’ to miss this time, Brolin, you son of a bitch,’ Stall snarled.
With all the willpower he could muster, Brolin drew the left-side Peacemaker and shot Stall in the chest. The impact knocked Stall back. Brolin cocked and fired again. Stall’s heart stopped beating as the .45-caliber slug smashed into it, turning it to mush.
He went down on his back, his six-gun fell from his grip. His back arched, then he was still.
Brolin knelt there briefly and looked at the body of the man he’d just killed. He felt nothing. No joy, no relief, no emotion whatsoever.
The world began to spin around him. Darkness descended; then Brolin fell on to his side and lay still.
Seventeen
It was sound that broke through to him first, then the swirls of light and dark. He tried to will his eyes to open but darkness claimed him once more.
The next time Brolin came to he took in his surroundings There was a lamp casting a dull orange light about his room. He closed his eyes and tried to speak. All that escaped his parched throat was a raspy moan.
He heard a woman’s voice and he felt the calming touch of a soft hand.
Brolin relaxed and felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over him, and once more descended into darkness.
The next time he came to his eyes snapped open and his fir
st thought was: I’m alive. An incoherent noise escaped his lips.
‘Easy, son,’ said the Miller’s Crossing doctor. ‘Just take it easy.’
Brolin relaxed a little and stared at the ceiling. Bandages swathed the top half of his body. Thoughts were jumbled inside his foggy mind. One at a time they cleared and he was able to piece together what had happened.
‘Stall?’ he gasped out.
‘Here.’ Ford held a cup to his lips. ‘Drink this. Not too much, mind. You don’t want to overdo it.’
Brolin took a sip, coughed, then took another.
‘Stall?’ he questioned again, his voice clearer.
‘He’s dead, son,’ Ford told him. ‘You killed him. The others are all dead too.’
Brolin remembered the store owner.
‘King?’
‘He’s fine. I patched him up and he’s been staying at the hotel.’
Brolin frowned at the word staying. How long had he been out to it? He looked about the room; it was small and sparsely furnished, much as one might expect of a hospital room. Sounds on the street broke through his thoughts.
He looked confused.
‘How long --?’
He was interrupted by a knock on the room door.
Ford opened it slightly and murmured something to the person on the other side. He turned back to the gunfighter.
‘Do you feel up to a visitor?’
‘Sure. Send him in,’ Brolin said, expecting it to be King.
To his surprise it wasn’t King. The person who entered was a woman. Tall, slender, with long black hair and hazel eyes. Her face was fine featured, almost delicate. Anyone not acquainted with her might have put her age at thirty-five.
The surprise on Brolin’s face was immediate.
‘Anna!’
His wife moved in close and kissed him tenderly on the cheek.
‘I’m so happy you’re awake, Matt.’ She smiled. A broad smile, showing even white teeth. ‘You had us worried.’
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Ford said. He left the room.
‘What are you doing here?’ Brolin asked.
‘The doctor sent word saying you’d been shot,’ Anna explained. ‘Don’t be mad. We had to come. They said you could die. As it is, you’ve been unconscious for the best part of two weeks. With infection and temperatures, it was touch and go for a long time.’
Brolin raised his eyebrows.
‘We? You mean Clara is here with you?’
His wife nodded. ‘Yes. She is with Candy.’
‘You left her with a ... ?’
‘Matt Brolin, you watch your mouth,’ Anna warned sternly.
Another knock sounded and King poked his head through the cracked door.
‘Can I come in?’
Anna smiled warmly. ‘Of course you can, Emmett. You’re more than welcome.’
King stepped into the room and smiled at Brolin, more with relief than happiness.
‘The doc says you’re goin’ to live.’
‘I feel like I’ve been run over by a herd of buffalo.’
King smiled again, but then a look of concern quickly descended like a dark cloud across his face. It seemed as though he had something to say but couldn’t find the right words to say it.
‘Out with it, Emmett,’ Brolin prompted him.
‘Huh, out with what?’
‘You know. I can tell there’s somethin’ wrong.’
‘I’m sorry, Brolin, but the new sheriff and the town judge are on their way over here to see you,’ King explained. ‘There’s been talk of a trial and all.’
‘Oh, Matt!’ Anna gasped. ‘What will we do?’
Before Brolin could respond there came another knock on the door and three men filed into the room with Dr Ford. Brolin recognized one of the three as the mayor of Miller’s Crossing, but the other two were strangers.
‘Somethin’ I can do for you gents?’ Brolin asked.
King slipped into a corner and waited to see what would happen. Anna, on the other hand, stood proudly beside her husband.
It was the mayor who spoke first.
‘Mr. Brolin, we would like to thank you for what you did for Miller’s Crossing.’
‘We?’
Marlow nodded. ‘Yes. Myself, Sheriff Wayne and Judge Burns.’
Brolin looked the other two men over. Wayne was a big man with an air of confidence about him. Something he’d need if he was to make it as a lawman. Burns, though, was short and thin.
‘I take it this isn’t a social visit,’ Brolin remarked. ‘Not when you’ve got the infamous gunfighter and killer Brolin in your midst.’
Marlow remained silent and left it up to Burns to speak.
‘Brolin,’ the judge started, ‘the sheriff is here to arrest you.’
‘Oh no!’ Anna gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth.
‘Hell, Judge,’ King burst out loudly. ‘After all he’s done for this town, for the people on the train? You want to arrest him for somethin’ that happened ten years ago - that he had nothin’ to do with? It ain’t right.’
Brolin held up his hand to quieten the store owner.
‘Hold up, Emmett. I was there. I’m not disputin’ the fact.’
‘But Matt …’ Anna started.
Brolin looked at the hurt in his wife’s eyes.
‘We always knew this could happen,’ he reminded her softly.’
The judge cleared his throat.
‘Now before you all get carried away, we’d best sort out a few things.’
‘What’s there to sort out?’ Anna snapped; her eyes sparkled with tears, but beneath the moisture they blazed with anger. ‘You are arresting my husband for murder.’
‘No, ma’am,’ Burns shook his head. ‘We believe your husband had nothing to do with the death of the trail crew.’
‘Then why in hell are you arrestin’ him?’ King asked exasperatedly.
‘Because, like Mr. Brolin said, he was there,’ Burns pointed out. ‘And that makes him an accessory to a crime.’
‘So what does it mean, Judge?’ Brolin asked.
‘My question to you is: if you were to come before me at trial, how would you plead?’
‘Guilty, I guess,’ Brolin answered. ‘Ain’t no way of gettin’ around it. If I was to plead guilty, what would my sentence be?’
‘Well, it would be up to the officiating judge to decide, meaning me,’ Burns pointed out. ‘But you see, we’ve had ourselves a discussion and have decided what you have done for this town cannot be ignored.’
‘What do you mean?’ Brolin asked warily.
Burns turned to the doctor.
‘How long until he would be fit enough to stand trial?’
‘Ten days maybe,’ Ford answered.
‘That will do fine,’ Burns replied. ‘Mr. Brolin, you’ve been found guilty of the crime--’
‘Hang on just a damned minute!’ King erupted.
‘Before any of you say more,’ Burns raised his voice, ‘let me finish. The sentence I am imposing upon you shall be ten days.’
It was Anna who broke the stunned silence. ‘Does that mean …?’
‘Yes, ma’am, it does,’ Burns confirmed. ‘Your husband will serve out his sentence in this very room. And in ten days, when he is well enough to leave, he will do so a free man.’
‘I don’t know what to say, Judge,’ Brolin managed to get out.
‘Don’t say anything at all, Mr. Brolin, just get well and stay out of trouble.’
‘I think I can manage that.’ Brolin smiled. ‘Thank you, Judge.
‘No, Mr. Brolin, it is we who thank you.’
‘There’s one other thing, Brolin.’ The sheriff stepped forward. ‘The small matter of a reward.’
Brolin looked over at King, who shook his head.
He turned his gaze back to the sheriff and also shook his head.
‘Give it to the town, Sheriff. We didn’t do this for the money.’
‘Yeah, well …’ Wayne let his voice t
rail away.
The three men filed out of the room. Once they were gone Anna launched herself at Brolin, forgetting his injuries. She kissed him long and hard as tears – now of joy - washed down her cheeks.
‘You’re hurting me,’ Brolin managed to say.
Anna drew back, her face reflecting her shock at having forgotten herself.
‘Oh Lord! Matt, I’m sorry.’
They all burst out laughing.
When things had quieted some, Brolin turned his attention to King.
‘How are you doin’, Emmett?’
The store owner knew what Brolin was asking.
‘I’m OK I guess,’ he replied. ‘It’s all startin’ to sink in now. When we were huntin’ them outlaws it gave me somethin’ to focus on and push the hurt to one side. But once it was over, it all came back and left a hollow feelin’ down deep.’
‘Yeah, it can do that,’ Brolin told him. ‘Have you let your wife know you’re OK?’
‘Yeah.’ King nodded. ‘I’m not lookin’ forward to goin’ back. Without Edgar around, things won’t be the same.’
‘Have you thought about a new start for your family?’ Brolin asked.
King shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t really thought much about anythin’.’
Brolin looked across at Anna, who gave him a small nod.
‘I could use a partner in my store in Oregon,’ Brolin said. ‘If you would like to move your family out there, we could work the store and split it fifty-fifty.’
King chuckled. ‘You, a store owner?’
‘A man has to make a living somehow. Bills don’t pay themselves,’ Brolin pointed out. ‘I’d be proud to have you as a partner. What do you say?’
‘I’ll think about it.’
Brolin smiled. ‘Fair enough.’
Suddenly the door burst open and a little girl with long black tresses, similar to her mother’s, ran into the room. She was no more than six years old and had sparkling brown eyes. Clara looked very much like her mother.
‘Daddy!’ she screamed, the biggest smile splitting her pretty face.
Clara leapt on to Brolin’s bed, causing him to wince. A pair of skinny arms locked around his neck and squeezed.
Brolin held her tight and felt a great tiredness overwhelm him.