by Brett Waring
“How do you aim to move the stage with a downed horse?” Nash asked deliberately changing the subject.
“You’re gonna help us. You’ll unhitch that dead bronc and lead the others around it. Hume and the passengers’ll throw out their guns first, of course. Then they’ll step down once the stage is clear of the defile.” Larry grinned tightly. “You’ll get to keep your gun for a spell, Clay.”
Nash’s eyes narrowed.
Larry was tense now, his eyes bright with rising excitement. “You punched me up in front of those people at Flagg’s Landin’ because I knew I couldn’t beat you to the draw. But that’s changed now. Jubal’s been teachin’ me. I got a natural talent. You’ll see how good I am, Clay.”
“You’re gonna draw against me?” Nash said, surprised.
“I told you, I got natural talent. Speed, accuracy.” Larry’s voice hardened. “And the need to kill. ’Specially you!”
Nash shook his head slowly, looking at Jubal Ricks who was coming out of the rock clump high on the slope. “He won’t let you take me, Larry. Jubal wants me for himself. I killed his brother and he’s been tryin’ to square that for years.”
Larry’s face was set like rock. “You’re mine, Nash!”
Nash gave him a bleak stare. “Jim Hume was right about you: only a bullet’s gonna stop you.”
“Maybe. But it won’t be yours. Now climb down and let’s get the stage out in the open!”
He lashed out suddenly with the rifle barrel and it took Nash across the face, opening a deep gash in his cheek and sending him staggering. Larry then prodded him in the midriff and Nash fell backward and down to the team. He clawed for support as he slid down between the animals. Getting a grip on harness, he clambered over the horses’ backs, rolled onto the dead animal at the front and shook his head to clear it. Blood dripped from the wound in his cheek. He heard Jubal Ricks laugh above him.
“He’s a mean one, ain’t he, Nash?”
Nash lifted his bloody face and saw Ricks halfway up the slope, the big Remington in his hands.
“Too mean for you, Jubal,” Nash said.
Ricks grinned. “I showed him how to drag iron. You’ll be surprised how fast he is now.”
“He says he’s gonna take me,” Nash said, then added, “and to hell with you and your dead brother.”
He saw Ricks stiffen.
“Guess you taught him a mite too well, Jubal,” Nash said. “He thinks he can take you.”
Ricks glowered at Larry Holbrook. “Nash is mine, kid! He killed my brother. You can have Hume!”
“I want Nash!” Larry cried out. “Ain’t no glory in outdrawin’ an old man like Hume. I want to beat Nash and let the whole damn country know about it!”
“See, Jubal?” Nash taunted. “He’s after the glory! He’s more ornery than either of us figured! And he’s gonna cheat you out of nailin’ me!”
“Like hell!” Jubal Ricks lifted the Remington and Nash knew he was a hair’s breadth away from death. “I swore I’d kill you, Nash, and that’s what I aim to do!”
“Jubal! He’s mine!”
Larry threw aside his rifle and crouched on top of the stage, right hand near his gun butt. Jubal Ricks flicked his gaze at him.
In that instant Nash acted.
His right hand streaked down and up and there was a six-gun in his fist that bucked as he fired off three fast shots. Jubal Ricks jerked and twitched as he staggered back, the massive Remington booming, then jumping out of his hands from the recoil. Before the outlaw’s body folded and rolled down the slope, Nash spun around to face Larry Holbrook. Their six-guns blasted together.
Nash twisted and fell to one knee as lead burned across his right shoulder. He grasped his smoking gun with his left hand and blasted another shot at the staggering Larry. Larry threw up his arms, dropping his gun. He crashed face-first against the rock wall and then fell near the horses. Larry was barely alive when Nash got to him. He stared up at Nash through incredulous eyes.
“No one’s ... that ... fast,” he gasped, then he slumped forward, dead.
Nash stood up slowly, holstering his gun as Hume demanded to know what was happening.
“It’s already happened, Jim,” Nash said quietly. “The kid’s dead. The only way to stop him was with a bullet.”
About the Author
Keith Hetherington
aka Kirk Hamilton, Brett Waring and Hank J. Kirby
Australian writer Keith has worked as television scriptwriter on such Australian TV shows as Homicide, Matlock Police, Division 4, Solo One, The Box, The Spoiler and Chopper Squad.
“I always liked writing little vignettes, trying to describe the action sequences I saw in a film or the Saturday Afternoon Serial at local cinemas,” remembers Keith Hetherington, better-known to Piccadilly Publishing readers as Hank J. Kirby, author of the Bronco Madigan series.
Keith went on to pen hundreds of westerns (the figure varies between 600 and 1000) under the names Kirk Hamilton (including the legendary Bannerman the Enforcer series) and Clay Nash as Brett Waring. Keith also worked as a journalist for the Queensland Health Education Council, writing weekly articles for newspapers on health subjects and radio plays dramatizing same.
More on Keith Hetherington
The Clay Nash Series by Brett Waring
Undercover Gun
A Gun Is Waiting
Long Trail to Yuma
Reckoning at Rimrock
Last Stage to Shiloh
Slaughter Trail
Sundown in Socorro
The Fargo Code
Ride for Texas
Bullet by Bullet
The Santa Fe Run
This Lawless Land
Guns on Big River
Compadre
Sundance
Escape to Gunsight
Ride the Stage to Hangman’s Spur
Only a Bullet
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More on Brett Waring
i See Clay Nash 15: Sundance