Blood Feud

by David Robbins

  “Stupid is as stupid does.”

  The woman crooked a painted nail at him. “I’m warning you. I can have you tossed out on your ear if you’re not careful.”

  Chace locked eyes with her. “Oh, really?” He imitated her sarcasm. “Start the dance and see what happens.”

  Her throat bobbed and she seemed less sure of herself. “I was only saying, is all. How about you treat me to a drink and we start over?”

  “You ever been shot?”

  “What? No. What kind of question is that to ask someone?”

  “There is going to be shooting. You might want to make yourself scarce,” Chace advised.

  “No gun talk in the Dirty Molly, you hear?” the woman said, and moved toward the bar.

  Chace went on scanning the press of people. He moved along the wall. A loud laugh drew his gaze to the far end of the bar. His face hardened and he started forward. When anyone got in his way he said, “Move.” Some did. Some laughed or ignored him until he said, “Look at me.” When they did, they moved. Men and women pointed at him, and whispered. He circled several tables until he was ten paces from the end of the bar. Checking over his shoulder, he drew both Lightnings and held them low against his frock coat. Then he yelled, loud and sharp, “Harkeys!”

  The two men at the bar turned. Dumfounded, they stared.

  The cardplayers and others between Chace and the pair hurriedly moved elsewhere. Quiet fell, save for the bartender, who called out to Chace, “Here, now. What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Stay out of this.”

  “I own this place, boy. You don’t walk in here and tell me what to do.”

  “I just did.” Chace moved his hands so the ivory-handled Colts were plain to see.

  “Oh hell,” the bartender said.

  Chace took another couple of steps. “Cat got your tongues?”

  “Why, it’s him himself!” the younger of the pair blurted. “Look there, Newton! And dressed like a gambler!”

  “I got eyes, Randy,” Newton said.

  “There are supposed to be three of you,” Chace said. “Where did the other one get to?”

  “That’s for us to know,” Newton said. He set down his glass and lowered his left arm. His right hand was on his hip near a bulge in his shirt.

  “I’ll find him,” Chace predicted.

  Newton glowered pure hate. “If’n he don’t find you first, boy.”

  “How come he’s wearing gambler clothes?” Randy asked his brother. “Have him tell us that.”

  “What difference does it make?” Newton snapped. “In a little bit those fancy duds of his will be filled with holes, and him still in them.”

  “You couldn’t let it be,” Chace told them.

  “Let it be?” Newton practically shouted, and quivered with rage. “Boy, you killed pretty near a dozen of us. You killed the head of our clan and his missus. And you want us to let it be?”

  “I left,” Chace said. “You didn’t have to come after me.”

  “It’s the law of the feud, boy. Didn’t your pa ever teach you anything?”

  “You Harkeys killed him,” Chace said. “Killed my ma and my older sister, too. And now here you are, come all this way to do the same to me.”

  “So long as there’s a Harkey breathing, you’ll never be free of it,” Newton said. “We’ll hound you to the gates of hell if we have to. And when you’re dead we’ll laugh and piss on your grave.”

  Randy inched his fingers toward the small of his back. “Piss on your grave,” he said, and cackled.

  “I should thank you,” Chace said.

  “For what, you Shannon scum?”

  “For showing me the error of my ways. I thought that by leaving, you Harkeys would let my family be. I was wrong. The only way to be sure my kin are safe is if there are no more Harkeys.” Chace squared his shoulders. “It’s too bad all three of you ain’t here.”

  “Linsey is off seeing someone about you,” Randy said.

  “Shut up,” Newton growled. To Chace he said, “Two of us is enough. You’re not Wild Bill Hickok. You can’t shoot both of us before we shoot you.”

  “Did I mention how Ezriah Harkey begged me to put him out of his misery?” Chace said. “Begged and cried and whimpered just like the dog he was.”

  Randy said, “You son of a bitch.” He stabbed his hand behind his back and brought out a Remington revolver.

  Chace flashed the Lightnings up and out. He shot Randy in the chest; the younger Harkey was slammed against the bar. Newton had slipped a hand up under his shirt and he streaked a Smith & Wesson from concealment. They fired at the same instant. Chace’s slug caught Newton in the shoulder and spun him half around. Newton’s slug tore a furrow in Chace’s arm.

  Even as the thunder of their shots boomed, women screamed and men swore and everyone dived for cover or bolted for the front door.

  Randy was straightening. Chace pivoted and shot him in the gut. Then Chace was one of those diving for the floor because Newton had let out a roar of fury and sprayed lead. Chace rolled behind a table. He pushed, upending it, and heard the thunk of a slug. Rearing up, he lost his hat to a shot that nearly took off his head. A shot from Randy, not Newton, still on his feet and still game. Chace fired and Randy was jarred onto his heels. Randy fired and the lead scoured the table. Chace banged off shots from both Lightnings. Newton was reloading. Chace snapped off a shot intended for Newton’s heart but it drilled his side. With surprising agility, Newton swung to the top of the bar and leaped over. Chace dropped behind the table.

  Screams and oaths continued to rise in panicked chorus. Over by the front door men were shoving and fighting to get out, never mind the women, many of whom had fled to a far corner and were huddled holding one another.

  Chace crabbed to a different table, slid around it, and heaved erect. He caught Newton flat-footed, staring at the first table. Newton spun and fired but Chace was a heartbeat quicker. Newton was punched back, recovered, and extended his arm to take deliberate aim. Chace shot him in the neck and scarlet spurted. Chace shot him in the arm. Newton cursed luridly, his face as red as his blood, and took a step nearer, gripping the Smith & Wesson tight in both hands. Newton’s revolver banged. He missed. Chace sent two shots as swift as thought. At the second blast, Newton reared onto the tips of his toes. A look of astonishment came over him and he melted to the floor.

  Randy was on his knees. Tears of frustration streamed from his eyes as, blinking, he took aim. Chace crouched behind the table to reload, his fingers flying. He heard the shuffle of a foot and rose and banged a shot from his left Lightning.

  Randy responded in kind. Chace shot again. Randy shot again. The air was thick with the acrid tang of gun smoke. Chace charged toward the bar. He pointed both pistols and as Randy sighted along the Remington’s barrel, Chace shot him in the face. The Lightnings were double-action. Chace didn’t need to thumb back the hammers. He squeezed the triggers, squeezed them again.

  In the sudden stillness women mewed and sniffled and men swore, but quietly. The people bottlenecked at the door were riveted in morbid fascination.

  Chace walked up to the Harkeys. He poked each. Neither moved. Neither appeared to be breathing. He poked them again.

  “They’re dead, boy,” the bartender said. “You done shot the both of them to pieces.”

  Chace barely heard the words. His ears were ringing. He slowly lowered the Colts. “They’re my enemies.”

  “Not anymore,” the bartender said. “They are no one’s enemies now.”

  “The Harkeys killed my ma.”

  “How’s that?”

  Chace looked up and opened his mouth to answer. From behind him, from the batwings, came the boom of a revolver. He was knocked forward, blood spurting from his right shoulder, and clutched at the bar. More screams and curses ripped the saloon as he turned. Framed in the doorway was the third Harkey, a smoking pistol in his hand.

  “You killed them!” Linsey roared. Pushing people asi
de, he stormed forward. “You killed my brothers!”

  Chace raised his right arm but it wouldn’t rise high enough. He swept his left arm up as the Harkey took aim.

  “For Newton and Randy,” Linsey said.

  Chace shot him in the groin. Linsey staggered, cursed, jerked his pistol up. Chace shot him again. Linsey sagged to his knees. Chace shot him a third time. Linsey let out a shriek and got off a shot that thudded against the bar. Chace raised his left-hand Lightning and emptied it in Linsey’s brainpan.

  No one else moved. No one scarcely breathed.

  Chace hooked his elbow on the counter and tried to stand. His legs wobbled and he looked at the bartender and grinned. “My insides are molasses,” he said and pitched to the floor.

  The four-poster bed had a red canopy and an orange frill. The smell of perfume was so strong that when Chace opened his eyes, he sneezed. He gazed sleepily about him. At the foot of the bed stood Jason Drake, talking to Madame Bovary. Sasha was over by the mirror, brushing her hair. Tallulah watched in fascination. In a chair by the bed sat Cassie, her chin on her chest. At the window, peering out, was Jed.

  “I reckon I’m seeing things,” Chace said.

  Cassie squealed and came out of the chair as if catapulted. She enfolded Chace in her arms and kissed both cheeks and his forehead and said, “You’re alive! You’re alive! You’re alive!”

  “He won’t be if you hug him to death, child,” Madame Bovary said, coming around. “Let the poor boy breathe.”

  Chace stared at a bandage on his shoulder. “Who do I have to thank for mending me?”

  “Sasha ran and fetched a doctor after Mr. Drake brought you here,” Madame Bovary said. “I paid the doc extra to keep hush about it.”

  “Sasha did?”

  Sasha made a face and went on brushing.

  “And it was Jason who brought me?” Chace said.

  The gambler nodded. “You have the sprite to thank,” he said, patting Tallulah on the head. “She followed you to the Dirty Molly and came to get me.”

  “But how did she know you and me are friends?”

  Tallulah answered for herself. “I’ve been following you everywhere you go since about the first day we met.”

  “Why?”

  Tallulah looked away.

  “And you and Grandpa?” Chace said to Cassie. “Where in blazes did you come from?”

  “Arkansas,” Cassie said, and giggled. She placed her cheek on his chest. “I’m sorry it took so long but it was slow going. I had to go by my feelings.”

  Jed said, “She brought us here, sure enough. But we might never have found you except we went to all the stables. I figured you’d board Enoch and I was right. The old man there said as how you had a job at Madame Bovary’s.”

  “And here they are,” Madame Bovary said.

  “I’ll be switched.” Chace placed his left hand on Cassie’s head. “I’ve missed you more than I can say.” He glanced at Drake. “What about the law? Are they after me for the three Harkeys?”

  “All the witnesses said you were defending yourself.” The gambler grinned. “Besides, I got you out before anyone wearing a badge showed up, and no one there knew who you were.”

  “I did it, then,” Chace said.

  “Now all you need is to decide what to do next,” Drake said. “You can come with me and do some riverboat gambling.”

  “Or we can go back home,” Cassie said.

  “Even though there’s nothing for us there,” Jed remarked.

  Chace looked at his grandfather and then at his sister and finally at Tallulah, and smiled.

  “Mississippi River, here we come.”