"I'll keep my eyes open," Tilghman said. "I'll be back as soon as I've got the other two under lock and key. Raoul, do you think you can go and fetch the doctor here without telling him what's going on? I don't want a commotion raised just yet."
"Sí, I will try," Gonzalez promised with a bob of his head. "Your hands and face are burned, Señor Marshal. You need the doctor yourself."
"All in good time, Señor Gonzalez, all in good time."
Tilghman left his horse in the barn with the others and went back out into the street. It was a couple of blocks to the town marshal's office, not far at all. He knew it would be a nerve-wracking walk, though.
Tilghman turned the corner and started along one of the blocks facing the square. Lights were burning in the hotel. In the kitchen and dining room, the people who worked there were probably getting ready for breakfast, including Casey Spencer.
Tilghman wished he could see her for a moment and let her know that Scanlon was all right. He didn't have time for that, though. He needed to get to the jail. He could see it just ahead of him . . .
The sound of hoofbeats made him pause and look around. The sun still wasn't up, but there was already enough light in the sky for him to gaze out onto the prairie and see a large group of horsemen galloping toward the settlement. A cloud of dust boiled up from the hooves of their racing mounts.
Tilghman knew instantly who those riders had to be. Garza must have returned to the place where Cal Rainey intended to wreak his terrible vengeance on the lawman. Finding Tilghman, Rainey, and Scanlon gone and Jonah dead, Garza would have known that something unexpected had happened. He must have gathered up the rest of the gang and followed the trail here to town.
As those thoughts flashed through Tilghman's mind, he turned away from the jail, whirled around, and broke into a run back toward the livery stable. He didn't have time to deal with Dave Rainey right now. Garza and the other rustlers would be here in a matter of minutes.
Nor could he and Scanlon hole up in the barn and hope to fight off the gang. The place wasn't made to defend against a large, well-armed force.
Tilghman had an idea for a refuge that might be better. He had to hurry, though.
The stable doors were closed almost all the way. Gonzalez hadn't left yet to fetch the doctor and must have been keeping a watch through the narrow crack between the doors because one side suddenly started to swing open as Tilghman approached. As he rushed into the barn he was glad to see that Scanlon and Rainey were still mounted.
"Come on!" Tilghman called to them as he practically leaped into his saddle. "We're headed for the hotel!"
"The hotel!" Scanlon repeated as Tilghman led the charge out of the barn. "What – "
"The rest of the gang will be here any minute!" Tilghman flung over his shoulder. "We're going to fort up on the top floor of the hotel."
"But Casey – "
"She'll be safe as long as she clears out and lays low. We'll grab Martin when we go in, so we'll have both him and Cal to use as hostages."
There was no time to explain any more than that. The horses pounded around the corner. Tilghman didn't slow down as he approached the hotel. He headed for the steps and rode right up onto the verandah with Scanlon behind him, leading Cal Rainey's horse. Rainey yelled through his gag, but the sounds were muffled and incoherent and lost in the clatter of horseshoes on the planks of the verandah.
Tilghman's mount tried to shy away from the doors, but Tilghman jerked his right foot from the stirrup, kicked the doors open, and sent the animal crashing on through into the lobby, ducking his head as he did so to clear the top of the opening. He heard a shout of alarm from the desk clerk.
Tilghman dismounted quickly, pulled his saddlebags loose and slung them over his shoulder, and turned to the horse carrying Cal Rainey. Scanlon was already leaning over in the saddle, using his knife to cut the bonds holding Rainey's wrists to the saddle horn. Tilghman grabbed Rainey and hauled him off the horse.
"Boone!"
The woman's surprised shout made Tilghman glance around. He saw Casey rush out of the dining room toward them. Scanlon slipped down from his horse's back and grabbed her as she threw herself into his arms.
"Casey, honey," Scanlon said as he hugged her tightly to him. "It's all right, Casey, but you've gotta get out of here."
She drew back a little and shook her head vehemently as she looked up at him.
"I'm not going anywhere except with you," she told him. "It's about time you understood that."
Tilghman drew his gun and used his other hand to grab Rainey's uninjured arm. He forced the rustler toward the stairs and said over his shoulder, "You two will have to work this out later. Come on, Boone."
Scanlon kissed Casey and then pushed her away.
"Please," he begged her, "get out of here and go somewhere safe."
Then he turned and backed toward the stairs, covering the open doors with his gun as he did so.
Rainey didn't cooperate. He struggled and made it as difficult as possible for Tilghman to force him up the stairs. Tilghman felt like bending the gun barrel over his head, but he knew that knocking Rainey unconscious wouldn't help matters. Then he'd have to deal with the outlaw's dead weight.
Wounded and weakened like he was, though, Rainey couldn't put up too much of a fight as Tilghman wrestled him up the stairs. They reached the second floor landing. Tilghman turned and started up toward the third floor.
The scuff of shoe leather against the floor warned him. He looked up as Martin Rainey appeared at the top of the stairs. Martin had a pistol in his hand, and he sized up the situation instantly. Seeing his brother Cal as Tilghman's prisoner told him that there was no point in pretending to be an honest businessman any longer. He snapped up the pistol and jerked the trigger.
At the same time, Tilghman shoved Cal Rainey down to get him out of the line of fire. The bullet from Martin's gun whipped past Tilghman's ear as he crouched. He squeezed off a round of his own, aiming carefully, and Martin cried out and staggered as the lawman's bullet ripped through his right thigh. He almost fell, but he caught his balance and tried to raise his gun again.
He stopped when he saw Tilghman gazing intently at him over the barrel of the Colt .45 in the marshal's hand.
"I don't want to kill you, Rainey," Tilghman said, "but the next one goes in your head if you don't drop that gun."
Martin's pistol thudded to the floor.
Tilghman hoisted Cal Rainey to his feet again and resumed the climb. Boone Scanlon was close behind them, still covering their ascent.
"Back away from the landing," Tilghman ordered. Martin did so, holding his wounded leg with both hands now and limping heavily. His face was pale with shock and pain.
"What . . . what . . . " he managed to say.
"You know good and well what's going on here," Tilghman snapped. "You and your brother are my prisoners. You're going to answer for all the rustling you've done, as well as the men you've killed. I reckon there's a good chance you'll both swing, but you never know. You might just spend the rest of your lives behind bars."
"You . . . you can't do this. You're just one man – "
"There are two of us," Scanlon said. "I'm backing the marshal's play."
"And so am I," a new voice said.
Tilghman swung around to see Raoul Gonzalez coming along the third floor balcony toward them with a shotgun in his hands. The stableman went on, "There is a rear staircase, Señor Marshal, but don't worry, I'll make sure no one comes up that way. When I heard you say you were coming up here, I knew you would need help."
Since Gonzalez was a civilian, Tilghman's first impulse was to send him away, out of the line of fire. But Gonzalez was right. He and Scanlon would need help to hold off the rest of the gang. He nodded to Gonzalez and said, "Muchas gracias, señor. I just hope you don't get yourself killed."
"A wish I devoutly share for us all!"
Tilghman shoved Martin Rainey into a chair. The mayor was wearing a dressing gown
with a belt tied around its middle. Tilghman took the belt off and used it to tie him into the chair.
"We don't need you running around loose, Mayor," he said.
"I'm wounded," Martin wailed. "I'm going to bleed to death!"
"Maybe not. If you're lucky."
Tilghman tied Cal Rainey into another chair. He had just finished doing that when he heard the swift rataplan of hoofbeats in the street outside.
"They're here. Let's find some windows and give 'em a warm welcome!"
Chapter 14
Since the third floor was devoted entirely to Martin Rainey's personal quarters, the rooms were much larger than the other rooms in the hotel. Along the front of the building were a sitting room and a dining room, with Rainey's bedroom in the back. Tilghman and Scanlon ran into the sitting room while Gonzalez retreated along the corridor to cover the rear stairwell.
Tilghman would have liked to have some rifles at their disposal, but the reality was that he and Scanlon were armed only with a six-gun each. The good thing was that they had plenty of ammunition, at least for the moment. Tilghman had a couple of boxes of .45s in his saddlebags.
Dust swirled in the street outside as Tilghman and Scanlon reached the sitting room windows. Tilghman spotted Garza, who seemed to have taken over temporary command of the gang. They had reined in, and the half-breed was looking around, as if trying to decide what to do next.
Someone was bound to tell them about the three men riding into the hotel lobby on horseback, so there was no hope they could hide up here and not be discovered. Better not to waste the element of surprise, Tilghman decided.
He shoved the window up, thrust the Colt through the opening, and fired.
The bullet struck Garza and rocked him in the saddle. At the window next to Tilghman, Scanlon opened fire as well. His shot knocked one of the rustlers to the ground. Each of them managed to squeeze off another shot before return fire drove them back from the windows. Tilghman knelt, edged forward, and sent two more bullets screaming into the mass of outlaws in the street.
"How many do you reckon are out there?" he called over to Scanlon.
"At least twenty," the young man replied.
"Ten to one odds, then." Tilghman grinned. "Could be worse!"
Not many of Burnt Creek's citizens had been on the street this early, and once the shooting started, those who were cleared out in a hurry. Tilghman was glad to see them scurrying for cover. He didn't want any innocents injured if it could be avoided.
The outlaws began to scatter as well. Some of them tried to reach the hotel's verandah so they could get inside the building, but accurate fire from Tilghman and Scanlon drove them back. They wound up taking cover behind water troughs and parked wagons and inside buildings across the street facing the hotel.
Once they were behind shelter, they started sniping at the third floor windows with rifles and pistols. Bullets shattered the windows and sent shards of glass spraying across the room, causing Tilghman and Scanlon to duck again. As soon as all the windows were busted out, though, at least they didn't have to worry about that anymore.
"They're going to try to get around behind us," Scanlon warned during a lull in the firing. Strands of gray powdersmoke floated in the room.
"Even if they do, they can't get to us without coming up those back stairs," Tilghman said. "As long as Raoul is waiting there with that scattergun of his, I don't think they're going to have much luck."
He took a box of cartridges from his saddlebags and slid them across the floor to Scanlon. Both men took advantage of the opportunity to fill the cylinders of their guns.
A footstep behind them made Tilghman spin around and lift his Colt. He didn't think either Cal or Martin Rainey could have gotten loose, but anything was possible.
What he saw took him even more by surprise. Casey Spencer stood there with a Winchester in each hand.
"I found these downstairs and thought you could use them," she said.
Scanlon leaped to his feet.
"Blast it, Casey!" he exclaimed. "I thought I told you to get – "
At that moment the outlaws across the street opened fire again, pouring lead at the hotel's top floor. Scanlon dived at Casey and tackled her, pulling her to the floor as bullets began to zip through the broken windows. She was far enough back so that the shots probably would have missed her anyway, because of the angle at which they were fired, but Scanlon clearly didn't want to risk that.
Casey yelped in fear as she hit the floor. She said, "I'm sorry, Boone. I didn't mean to cause trouble. But I'm going to help you, whether you want my help or not!"
"And we're obliged to you," Tilghman told her. "Those rifles will come in handy, all right. Slide one of 'em over here, Boone."
Scanlon did so. The Winchesters held fifteen .45 caliber rounds apiece, more than twice as much as the Colts. That would help considerably. And having Casey here meant they had an extra pair of hands that could be busy reloading while Tilghman and Scanlon were making things hot for the enemy. Tilghman would have preferred that Casey had gotten out of the hotel and hunkered down somewhere safe, but since she hadn't, they might as well take advantage of her offer to help.
He filled the rifle that Scanlon pushed over to him, then came up on his knees and thrust the barrel over the windowsill. The Winchester blasted a string of half a dozen shots as fast as Tilghman could work the weapon's lever and pull the trigger. He sprayed lead across the front of the building across the street and around a wagon where he knew at least one of the rustlers had taken cover. The barrage had an effect, as a man flopped out from behind the wagon and writhed in the dirt from the pain of being wounded in the side. He tried to crawl back into cover but didn't make it in time. Tilghman drilled him through the head.
Heavy return fire forced the lawman to drop below the window again. He looked over at Scanlon as the young man returned to the other window.
"Do you know how many men Dave Rainey can muster here in town who work for him and his brothers?"
Scanlon shook his head and said, "I don't have any idea. Another dozen, maybe?"
Tilghman thought of something else that made a grim look settle over his face.
"That's not all we have to worry about," he said. "Most of the folks in town don't know what all the shooting is about. Dave can tell them anything he wants to. He can convince them that a couple of outlaws are holed up in the hotel and get volunteers to join the fight."
"Innocent folks, you mean?"
"That's right. He may try to turn all of Burnt Creek against us."
"I'm not gonna shoot innocent people," Scanlon declared. "Although . . . how will we know?" A look of despair came over his rugged young features. "We can't win, Marshal. There's just no way. Not with all of the gang and the whole town against us."
He was probably right, thought Tilghman. If he'd had a little more time and had been able to get all three of the Rainey brothers behind bars, he would have been able to explain the truth to the rest of the citizens and enlist their help when the gang came storming into town. But that hadn't worked out, and now all the odds were stacked against them.
The only card he had left to play was that he had Cal and Martin Rainey as his prisoners. That might give him a little bargaining power. Also, people in town knew who he was. Would they take the word of a deputy U.S. marshal over that of their local lawman? Tilghman didn't know, but it was worth a try. He just had to get the truth out there somehow.
The boom of a shotgun filled the air and made Casey jump. Tilghman crawled across the floor to the sitting room door, trying to avoid the broken glass as he did so. Leading with the Winchester, he stuck his head and shoulders into the hall. It was empty except for Cal and Martin Rainey, tied into the chairs where they sat.
"Señor Gonzalez!" Tilghman called. "You all right down there?"
"Sí, señor," came the stableman's answer. "A couple of those badmen, they tried to come up the stairs."
"What happened?"
"They wer
e not expecting me to be waiting for them. They will not go back down under their own power. They will have to be carried down."
"Good job." Tilghman got to his feet and edged along the wall toward the prisoners. He came to Cal Rainey first, who cursed him bitterly as Tilghman loosened the ropes and jerked him to his feet. Tilghman said, "Come on. I've got work for you to do."
"If you think I'll help you, you damn lawdog – "
Tilghman put the Winchester's muzzle under Cal's chin.
"I haven't forgotten what you tried to do to me up there in the Devil's Hand," he grated. "These burns I've got sting like blazes, and I'll carry the scars from them for the rest of my life. What I need you for is to keep your friends from shooting at me, and you can do that dead as well as alive. You'd be wise to remember that."
Cal didn't say anything else as Tilghman shoved him along the hall to the door of the sitting room. The gunfire had tapered off again. This was the time to make his move.
Tilghman rushed Cal Rainey across the room to the window. It went against the grain for him to use a man as a human shield, even a rustler and killer like Rainey. There was a chance the outlaws would open fire as soon as Cal appeared in the opening, without waiting to see who he was. Tilghman had to run that risk. Circumstances had already forced him into doing the sort of things he normally went out of his way to avoid, such as riding those horses right into the hotel lobby like some sort of Wild West showman.
"Hold your fire! Hold your fire!" somebody bellowed across the street as Tilghman held Cal Rainey in front of him. "That's the boss!"
"Dave Rainey!" Tilghman shouted over Cal's shoulder. "Dave, I know you're out there somewhere! You'd better answer me!" He paused, then added, "This is Deputy United States Marshal William Tilghman!"
The guns were all silent now. Tilghman knew his powerful voice would carry along the street. He hoped that a number of Burnt Creek citizens would hear it and start to realize that the situation wasn't exactly what their local marshal must have told them it was.
A moment of silence ticked past, then Dave Rainey replied from the building across the street, where he had joined forces with Garza and the other rustlers.
West of the Big River: Boxed Set of Eight Western Novels Page 8