“It’s still here!” she said. Turning her attention to the floor, Olivia reached into the hole to retrieve a few tarnished, broken combs and some dirty marbles. “This is where I stashed some of my things when I came to visit. I thought it was a big secret.” When she reached into the hole again, she pulled out a flat bundle wrapped in leather and held together by several lengths of twine.
“What’s that?” Clint asked.
Olivia stared at the bundle with wide eyes. “I don’t know. I didn’t put it here.”
FORTY-ONE
Clint brought the horses into the old house so they could at least get some protection behind what was left of the walls. Once the horses were in place, Clint walked over to Eclipse, patted the stallion’s neck, and took the rifle hanging from the saddle’s boot.
“You figure out what you found yet?” he asked as he checked the rifle to make sure it was in proper firing condition.
“Yes. It’s another letter from Abner.”
“He sure did enjoy his correspondence,” Clint said. He went to the window, and was quickly able to spot the four horses. They were converging on Coldwater Rock from two different directions, and had already covered half the distance between the crowned ridge and the house.
Walking around to the back of the house, Clint asked, “What’s this letter say?”
“It says he knows that if anyone’s reading this letter, it’s me,” Olivia replied in a trembling voice.
There weren’t any more riders coming in from the back of the house, but that didn’t make Clint feel too much better. They were, after all, still outnumbered two to one. “Not to spoil your moment here, but could you get to the more pressing information?”
“Oh, sure. Abner did come into some money and he meant for me to have some of it.”
“Great. How did those brothers find out?”
“It doesn’t say,” she replied with a shrug. “But there are a few more things.”
“Anything that we need to know in order to survive the next few minutes?”
“Well…I don’t suppose so.”
“Then grab your rifle because we’re about to have some houseguests.”
Olivia folded the bundle into thirds until it was back down to the size it had been when she’d found it. Rather than concern herself with all that twine, she wedged the bundle under the sash tied around her waist. The leather cover fit snugly against her hip.
Olivia rushed to her horse and removed the rifle from the boot of her own saddle. Unlike Clint’s rifle, hers was an older-model hunting rifle that had obviously been left to fend for itself in the elements.
“How much longer until they get here?” she asked.
“Not long,” Clint replied. “They’re riding in pretty fast. Just get behind a wall and keep your head down while I fire the first…hey!” Clint stopped short when he saw Olivia doing the exact opposite of what he’d just told her to do. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Olivia held the rifle with the stock under one arm as she reached out for the clay jar with her free hand. “We’ve got a bet going, remember?”
“Forget about that. Just…aww, hell.”
Clint could tell she wasn’t going to forget about anything. She already had the urn in her grasp and was running toward one of the broken walls that opened toward the nearby river. Although most of the house was still between her and the approaching riders, Clint propped his rifle on the windowsill and sighted along its barrel. If he couldn’t stop her, the least he could do was cover her.
As Olivia covered the short distance between the house and the bank of the Rio Grande, she was smiling like a child who’d broken free of her parents. She set her rifle down so she could hold the urn in both hands and raise it over her head.
“I love you, Uncle Abner,” she said. And with an even wider smile, she brought the urn smashing down upon a rock.
Either the sound of that shattering clay or the sight of her running to the river attracted the attention that Clint had been hoping to avoid. A shot cracked through the air, followed by a few more from the horsemen.
Clint sighted in on the puffs of smoke that had shown up around two of the riders. Since he knew the horses were too far away and moving too fast for anyone to get an accurate shot from their saddles, he took his time and held off a few seconds before squeezing his trigger.
“Whatever you’re doing, do it quick,” Clint shouted over his shoulder.
Kneeling on the muddy riverbank, Olivia held the two largest chunks of the urn as if they were the halves of a huge, broken egg. Ashes spilled from both halves, so she snapped her arms out to send the urn’s contents toward the water.
Dusty smoke billowed from the urn, and was carried by the wind toward the sprawling river. Some of the larger bits dropped into the water, while a few stubborn pieces clattered against the remains of the urn.
Another shot came from the other end of the settlement. This time, Olivia could hear the hiss of lead whipping through the air to her right. She could hear the horses as well as they raced toward Coldwater Rock. Wilson Nagle’s distinctive voice drifted to her ears, but Olivia couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying.
“Get back in here!” Clint demanded as he fired a shot of his own.
Olivia took the left half of the urn and turned it over so the rest of the ashes spilled into the water. Rather than shake it out, she tossed the broken clay in as well. When she shook the right half, the clatter that had always been there was even louder. It actually sounded louder than it should have and, against her better judgment, she looked inside to see what was making all that noise.
“All right!” Clint shouted after he fired another shot at each of the riders in turn. “You won the bet! You scattered the ashes before they got here. Now just get back here before I need to scatter you into that damn river!”
Olivia dipped her hand into the cracked half of the urn and fished out the small key that had been clattering against the clay. “I think I’ve just won more than our bet,” she said breathlessly.
FORTY-TWO
The four riders swooped in from the top of the rise in a formation that held together well enough for Clint to wonder if the men were the Nagles after all. Once the bullets from Clint’s rifle got close enough to be felt by the riders, however, they scattered and turned just as Clint had been expecting.
More shots were fired. More commands were shouted. Finally, some obscenities were tossed at the house where Clint and Olivia waited.
“Hand over that money or we’ll kill you and take it ourselves!” Boris shouted. “You’re dead if you fire one more goddamn shot!”
Clint kept his back to the wall as he reloaded his rifle. “What’ve you got there?” he asked Olivia.
Holding out the key, she said, “I think I just found the money everyone’s after.”
“What’s that a key to?”
“Probably the strongbox in that hole in the floor,” she replied.
One of the shots from outside got close enough to blast a chunk from the windowsill over Clint’s head. He ducked down a bit lower, but didn’t take his eyes from her.
“What strongbox?” he asked. “I thought there was just that letter.”
“There’s a strongbox, but no key. I took the letter and didn’t worry about the rest because I didn’t want to waste enough time to get us killed.”
Another couple of shots hissed through the air over their heads and punched into the walls around them.
“Too late for that,” Clint said with a smirk.
“Well, maybe I thought if nobody knew about that box, those assholes outside would just leave,” she said. “Or maybe this whole thing would just blow over. I don’t know. Thinking about that money right then felt like a disgrace to my uncle’s memory. Especially after—”
One of the riders’ bullets found something metal and sparked off it to ricochet into another wall.
“Especially after reading that letter,” Olivia said. “There�
�s something else in the letter that I should tell you.”
Clint shook his head and held out a hand as if that was the only way to get her to stop. Once she bit her tongue, he told her, “You can tell me this later. Right now, we need to say hello to our guests. Their horses are going to be within pistol range any second.”
Olivia raised herself up a bit and craned her neck before Clint took her by the arm and pulled her down again. She hit the floor on her backside and said, “They’re right outside.”
Clint did the one thing that could take Olivia completely off guard at that moment. He gathered his feet beneath him so he was crouched against the wall instead of sitting against it, let out a breath, and smiled. “All right,” he said as he held the rifle across his chest. “Now’s when the fun begins.”
FORTY-THREE
The first horse to reach Abner’s house thundered to within a few feet of the wall and then skidded to a stop. The rider swung down from the saddle, landed hard on both feet, and pulled the trigger of the gun in his fist. He stepped through the crumbling doorway, looked for a target, and caught the stock of Clint’s rifle in his face.
Stepping into the doorway, Clint took a quick look at the gunman and then slammed his boot into the man’s chest. He didn’t recognize the gunman’s face, but knew the Nagles weren’t far behind him. He could hear the brothers shouting orders back and forth like a couple of feuding generals.
“There he is!” Boris said. “Shoot the son of a bitch!”
Now that he was in the doorway, Clint could see where the others were. One horse stood just outside the house, its rider still lying on the ground, trying to catch his breath. Another horse was being ridden around the back of the house, while two more were closer to what Clint had figured was a small livery.
One rider let out a sharp yell to his horse and got the animal moving toward the house. Clint didn’t recognize that one’s face either, but he didn’t have any trouble recognizing the gun in the rider’s hand. As soon as he saw the rider take aim at him, Clint brought up his rifle and pulled his trigger.
That shot blazed through the air and knocked the rider from his saddle. While the man was kicking and flailing on his way to the ground, Clint had already levered in a fresh round and fired the rifle again. The second bullet clipped the rider’s chest and slapped the upper portion of his body to the ground before his legs could hit the dirt.
When he landed, the gunman tossed his pistol and let out a pained groan.
“Murdering bastard!” Boris yelled as he hopped down from his horse and ran for cover inside the livery.
Clint stepped over the gunman he’d knocked from the doorway and transferred his rifle to his left hand. After propping the rifle onto his shoulder, Clint circled around toward the right side of the livery.
“Hiring men to do your fighting now, Boris?” Clint asked. “I guess you haven’t had much luck on your own. Come to think of it, you haven’t even had that much luck with Olivia. I hear she worked you over pretty good with a shovel.”
That worked better than Clint had hoped.
Not only did Boris show where he was hiding, but he did so with enough bluster to draw the aim of a blind man.
“I don’t give a fuck who you are!” Boris snarled as he exploded from the livery. “You ain’t touching that money!”
All Clint needed to do was step to his right to get out of Boris’s line of fire. Boris pulled the trigger of his .44 again and again, but only managed to blast a few holes into the corner of the livery. Before he’d delivered his sixth shot, Boris drew his second pistol and started firing that one as well.
Boris gritted his teeth and worked his way along the front of the livery. He emptied half of his second pistol before reaching the corner. When he rounded the corner, Boris fired a shot before he could even get a look at Clint.
That shot, just like all the ones before it, hit nothing but wall.
Clint wasn’t there.
As Boris looked around, he didn’t see any trace of Clint. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered.
The moment he heard something move, Boris slammed his back against the wall and fired another shot in that direction.
There was still nothing, so Boris fumbled his cylinder open so he could reload his first gun.
Something moved again. This time, however, Boris could tell the movement was coming from inside the livery behind him. “Hey!” Boris shouted to the gunman who’d been kicked to the ground in Abner’s doorway.
The gunman got to his knees and then climbed to his feet. Blood streamed down his face from that first hit from the stock of Clint’s rifle, so he swiped at it with the back of his hand.
“Where’d Adams go?” Boris shouted.
“Who?” the gunman asked.
“The man who knocked you down. Where’d he go?”
“I was about to shoot him when you came charging out of there,” the gunman replied. “If you wouldn’t have moved, I could have—”
“Just keep your eyes open,” Boris snapped.
Suddenly, the gunman let out a surprised grunt and stabbed a finger toward the livery.
Boris nodded and turned to look through one of the holes that had rotted through the wall. Not only did he see Clint, but Boris found himself looking straight down the barrel of Clint’s pistol. Boris’s next move was to take a shot at Clint while he could.
Clint pulled his trigger just as Boris lifted his gun arm. The bullet sped through the hole in the wall and caught Boris in the chest to drill a hole through his heart.
The gunman who’d just stood up fired a quick shot at Clint, which came within inches of drawing Clint’s blood.
After snapping his arm out like a whip, Clint aimed at the remaining gunman and sent a round into the man’s eye. Once more, the gunman was knocked to the ground. This time, he didn’t get up.
FORTY-FOUR
Olivia huddled in the narrow corner as if she still had unbroken walls on all sides of her. Instead, there was barely enough wall in front of her to keep her partially hidden. The sounds of gunshots exploded through the air, but she intended on staying put as Clint had asked.
She heard shouting, but didn’t move.
She heard more shots and what had to have been a man’s dying breath, but Olivia still didn’t move.
When she heard steps knock against the battered floor, Olivia tightened her grip on her rifle and hoped to see Clint step into her sight.
The man who peeked in at her wasn’t Clint.
“There you are,” Wilson said in a dry, almost singsong voice. “If there was anything to be found in here, I knew you’d be right beside it.”
“There’s nothing here,” Olivia said as she aimed her rifle at him. “Just leave me alone!”
Wilson stopped coming forward, but leered at her as if he was somehow drawing her to him. His smile had frozen on to his face like something that had been chipped into a statue. Even as the gunshots continued to be fired outside, Wilson acted as if he didn’t hear a single one of them.
“Whatever you got in there, just hand it over,” he said.
Olivia shook her head. “There’s nothing here! All I meant to do was scatter Abner’s ashes. That’s the only reason we’re here.”
“Then why hire a man like Clint Adams?”
“To protect me from you!” she snapped. “You and your idiot brother don’t even need a reason to hurt someone. Since you got it in your heads that there’s money to be had, you’re like a rash.”
Wilson laughed and nodded. “A rash. I like that.”
“What are you doing?” Olivia asked nervously.
Holding his pistol in front of him, Wilson slowly opened the cylinder and checked each round. “Just making sure this is ready to blast a hole through your head.”
Olivia raised her rifle in trembling hands. “I’ll kill you first.”
“Yeah? Well, now’s your chance.”
Keeping his eyes on her, Wilson held his pistol so Olivia could see it from the side.
After a few seconds, he snapped the cylinder shut with a flick of his wrist. He shook his head and said, “I knew you didn’t have it in you to fire. That ain’t nothing to be ashamed of. After all, it’s only money.”
“Even if there was money, it’s not yours.”
“My brother and I stayed when you left to go see the world. We probably knew Abner better than you did. Do you know we even helped him make repairs to his house when he was ill?”
“You’re crazy,” Olivia whispered. She could feel a cold sweat breaking on her brow and her arms losing the strength they needed to keep the rifle pointed at Wilson. “That’s all just crazy talk.”
“All right then,” Wilson sighed. “Abner always had money and we didn’t. You went out and made a life for yourself when we couldn’t. Your family always got all the good chances and we didn’t. Now that one of your kin has turned on you, none of you deserves one goddamned dime. We’re taking this money and there ain’t a damn thing to do about it, so pull that trigger or I’ll take that rifle right out of your hands.”
Olivia steeled herself and pressed the rifle against her shoulder. She held her breath so she could use all of her strength to take aim and pull her trigger. Her mind raced with a hundred good reasons why she should fire.
Her life depended on it.
Suddenly, Wilson’s hand snapped out to take hold of the rifle’s barrel. Before she could do anything about it, Olivia felt the rifle get twisted until her finger snapped beneath the trigger guard. The pain only got worse as Wilson roughly yanked the rifle away from her.
“You had your chance, Olivia,” Wilson said. “Two of them. You wasted them both. I’ve got the chance to get rich and I also just got the chance to shove this rifle up into you and pull the trigger just to see what happens. I ain’t wasting neither of my chances.”
Olivia grabbed her hand and held it tight. She could feel the broken bones of her finger, but she no longer felt the pain. As she let out her breath, she whispered a few soft words.
Dying Wish Page 14