Whispers on the Wind

by Brenda Jernigan

  Mary didn’t realize that tears had started to tumble down her cheeks. She was left alone clinging to the cold bars, praying that no one would be killed, and wondering if Hank was still alive.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Red Eye Saloon was buzzing with activity. It was just past noon and the place was already crowded as the Carlsons ambled through, winding around the tables and making their way toward the mahogany bar in the back of the building.

  A honky-tonk piano player was playing a tune in the corner, but no one paid him any attention as they were either drinking or playing cards.

  Sammy spotted McCoy’s back at the bar and headed toward him. Sammy sidled up to the bar on one side of McCoy with Randy on the other side. “See you had to have a drink, too,” Sammy said and then ordered whiskey. “What have you heard?”

  McCoy tossed down a shot of red-eye before replying, “They have more help. Sheriff Hank came in earlier. He had a tall gunslinger with him. I heard Hank call the man Thunder. If that is true, you boys are in a lot of trouble.”

  “Pretty fast, huh?” Randy asked.

  “Damned tooting. Haven’t heard anything about him for a few years. But trust me, he’s fast. I saw him take a man down in Independence before his victim had a chance to clear leather.”

  Sammy refilled his shot glass. “I’m not so bad myself.”

  “Let’s hope so,” McCoy said. Turning sideways to look at Sammy, McCoy asked, “What’s the marshal after you for?”

  Sammy chuckled. “Not too sure other than he’s a lawman with a burr under his saddle about something. Don’t ever remember meeting up with him face-to-face even though he’s picked off most of the old gang.”

  McCoy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Are you boys still going with my plan?”

  “Yep. Although I’d rather shoot the marshal down in the street, I like the way you think about making Monroe suffer for the years he’s dogged my tracks.”

  “I think McCoy’s idea ain’t half bad,” Randy chimed in. “This way we won’t get charged with nothing since we aren’t doing the shooting. We’ll come out of this whole mess lily white.”

  “Good.” McCoy smiled. “Now remember to keep them busy, so I have time to carry out my end.” He slapped his coins on the bar. “Give me half an hour to get setup before you call them out”

  Randy watched McCoy as he left, “Something about that guy makes my skin crawl.”

  “Yeah. Mine, too, but we have the same goal this time, so it works,” Sammy said before he tossed down another shot “Don’t know if I believe what he’s talking about. Putting somebody to sleep or whatever the hell he called it”

  “Me neither. We’ll have to see if he can do what he says.” Randy grabbed a cigar off the bar. “Reckon it’s worth a risk or two.”

  “Give me one of those,” Sammy ordered. “If he don’t, we’ll just put a bullet in him.” He shrugged. “No big loss.”

  “Ah, shit!” Randy swore. His gaze fixed on the big looking glass over the bar. “Here comes the local sheriff.”

  “Good,” Sammy said. “I ain’t going to take no sass off him. Not today.”

  The telltale smell of burning tobacco hung in the air as Hank strolled through the saloon.

  “Look, boys. I don’t want any trouble.”

  Sammy leaned back on the bar. “Our fight is with Monroe.”

  “But it’s in my town,” Hank pointed out. He wasn’t a man of violence, but he wasn’t a man to back away either. “I won’t have you shooting up the town,” he informed them.

  Sammy straightened, his hands on his hips. “This has been a long time coming, Sheriff. Don’t even know why Monroe has dogged my tracks, but I’m real sick of it. If you don’t want nobody hurt, I suggest you get them off the street.”

  Hank looked at the outlaws long and hard. If he’d been ten years younger, he’d have already slapped these two in jail. But age had a way of making one cautious. “You boys are going to regret this,” he warned them one last time, then made his way to the front where he’d left Rick standing by the bat-wing doors.

  “Not as much as you will,” Sammy muttered under his breath to Randy. “Get one of the boys to take old Hank out.”

  Randy nodded. “He’s a mouthy old coot.”

  “He also made a big mistake when he killed our brother a few years back,” Sammy said tightly, then motioned for the bartender to bring another bottle. “We’re going to get revenge big-time today.”

  Hank and Rick sauntered out of the saloon and onto the street. What they didn’t see was Randy giving a signal from the saloon doors.

  Hank rubbed the back of his neck as they walked. The clinking of harnesses and the squeak of saddle leather sounded pretty normal at the moment. “I got a bad feeling about this. Those two are shifty-eyed scoundrels—can’t trust them.”

  “I agree,” Rick said. “I think they intend to shoot up the town.”

  “Yeah. Me, too. And we don’t have enough guns to defend it.” Hank pulled out his pocket watch; the sun glinted off the gold. “We got fifteen minutes. Better start warning folks to stay inside.”

  “I’ll take this side of Main Street,” Rick said as he started across the dirt

  They both knocked on doors and warned the citizens that there was going to be a gunfight and they needed to stay inside. Most folks nodded, but none volunteered to help out

  Rick was getting ready to step off the sidewalk to meet Hank when he saw a flash and heard a shot. He crouched down and fired at the rooftop, sending the outlaw toppling over the side of the building and down to the ground with a bone-crunching thud. Rick didn’t pay any attention to the body because Hank lay sprawled out in the street, and he wasn’t moving.

  Rick ran to Hank’s side, then dropped down on his knee. He saw that Hank’s eyes were open and he breathed a sigh of relief. “How bad is it?” he asked, helping Hank to a sitting position.

  “Pretty dam bad when you get shot in the back,” Hank grumbled.

  “I got the slimy bastard who did this,” Rick told him, then he grasped Hank’s arm. “Here, let me help you to your feet. We need to get you to Doc’s before they start shooting some more.” Rick looked at Hank’s arm. “Appears to be in the shoulder.”

  “Yeah. The same damn shoulder I was shot in two and a half months ago.” Hank grimaced as he stood. “I don’t have time for the doc. You boys are goin’ to need help.”

  Rick steadied Hank. “You’re in no condition to be in a gunfight. I think one bullet hole is enough for one day,” Rick told him while guiding Hank in the direction of the doctor’s office.

  “You saying I’m no good?”

  “Just not at your best At least you have one good arm,” Rick cajoled as they hobbled across the street He constantly scanned the buildings to make sure someone else didn’t take a shot at them before they could get to safety.

  “My shooting arm is still good,” Hank admitted. “But I’m beginning to wonder if I ain’t too dang old for this job.”

  “You’ve just been down lately. First the flu and now two new bullet holes.” Rick opened the door to the doc’s office. “Hey, Hank has been wounded!”

  Doc Moore sauntered out to meet them, took one look at Hank, and said, “Again?”

  “Yep. I’m getting slow,” Hank admitted.

  “I’m going to leave him here,” Rick said on his way out the door. “There might be more coming.”

  Rick ran all the way to the jailhouse, burst through the door, and shouted, “Hank’s been shot!”

  Carter paused just outside the jailhouse door and strapped down his gun. He straightened and looked out at the now deserted street. There were no riders or children playing, only quiet and the wind whipping down the street, causing a whorl of dust. He felt the tension; his long awaited day had arrived.

  Carter, Thunder, and Rick shuffled out into the dirt street At the far end they saw five men; Carter knew two of them had to be Sammy and Randy Carlson. They were spread across the
street, poised, ready.

  “Does it strike you as odd that the Carlsons are at the far end of the street instead of in front of the saloon?” Carter asked.

  “Maybe they wanted to get away from the townsfolk,” Rick suggested.

  “I don’t think so,” Thunder said.

  Carter glanced to his left “Let’s hear what you’re thinking.”

  “Could be an ambush,” Thunder told them as he adjusted his black Stetson over his eyes. “Only white men are stupid enough to walk down the middle of the street and shoot at each other.”

  Carter cleared his throat “Should I point out the fact that you are a white man?”

  “Ah.” Thunder smiled. “But I was raised by the Cheyenne.”

  “Are we going to stand here and jaw-jack all day,” Rick asked, flexing his hand impatiently, “or get on with it?”

  “Youth,” Thunder said. “Why don’t you two go ahead, and I’ll even out the fight by seeing who’s lurking on the rooftops.”

  “Good idea,” Carter agreed.

  Thunder darted into the alley so quickly, he seemed to have disappeared before their eyes. Carter and Rick started walking, making sure they didn’t take their eyes off the enemy.

  “You think we can take them?” Rick asked.

  “They’re pretty fast,” Carter drawled. “But I think we can take them. I especially want Sammy—he’s the one who rode out with my sister, and he’s always escaped my grasp in our previous encounters with the gang.”

  As they passed the saloon there was a noise. Both men crouched down and swung to their left. They saw Thunder wave briefly before he disappeared again.

  “I believe Thunder is still a little savage,” Rick said as he straightened and they started forward again.

  Another sudden thud followed the first, catching their attention for a moment. Carter realized that Thunder was making good on his promise. They hadn’t heard any shots so he was either knocking them unconscious or slitting their throats.

  Maybe Thunder truly was the savage.

  “As I was saying. What are you going to do when you no longer have to worry about the Carlsons?” Rick asked.

  “I don’t know,” Carter answered truthfully.

  They stopped about thirty feet in front of the outlaws. They were within easy speaking distance of the men and could see them clearly. All five of them were spread out across the street, feet apart, fingers flexing, waiting for someone to make the first move.

  “I think we’re a little outnumbered,” Rick commented.

  “Will one more help?” Thunder called from the boardwalk before strolling over to stand with them.

  “What took you so long?” Carter asked sarcastically.

  “The last guy was pretty stubborn.”

  One of the Carlsons shifted his stance. “Our fight ain’t with you, mister.”

  Thunder’s mouth spread into a thin-lipped smile. “It is now.”

  “Suit yourself.” The taller one sneered.

  “Which one of you is Sammy Carlson?” Carter asked.

  The taller one spoke. “I am.”

  “Then you are under arrest,” Carter told him.

  “I heard you been lookin’ for me, Marshal.” Sammy’s words were directed at Carter. “What for?”

  “You’re under arrest for the murder of my sister,” Carter snarled.

  “Just who the hell is your sister? And how do you know I killed her?”

  “Think back five years when you were in this very town.” Carter spoke in a hard, strong voice. “You were drunk and shooting up the town. However, that must not have been enough because on your way out of town you picked up a young woman who was sitting in a wagon—long blond hair, blue eyes.”

  “Oh yeah, I remember now,” Sammy said with a slow smile. “Fine little piece, too.”

  Carter’s gun cleared the leather in a flash. But he was so angry his bullet only hit Sammy in the arm. He grunted and grabbed his wound.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  A bullet caught one of the men just about the belt buckle; blood sputtered as he went down.

  Bullets were flying as both of the Carlsons ran into the dry goods store where they could hold off the law. Seeing this, Carter, Rick, and Thunder dove behind a wagon and water trough.

  Shots were heard from within the store and Carter knew they had killed Mac McBride, the store’s owner.

  “Christ,” Rick swore. Wood splintered off the trough and nicked his arm.

  “You all right?” Carter asked.

  “Yeah,” Rick grumbled.

  “I’m going around the back of that building,” Thunder called from his position. “If we don’t do something, we’ll be here all day.”

  “Look,” Rick shouted at the same time, but was ignored as the outlaws opened fire.

  Rick and Carter returned the gunfire, covering Thunder as he dashed across the street in a blaze of bullets. Remarkably he made it to the other side of the street without a scratch.

  A bullet whizzed by Carter’s head just as he ducked behind the wagon. He reloaded his gun while Rick continued firing. Carter had thought this was going to be a fair fight in the street. He should have known better.

  “Look,” Rick said again in between shots.

  That is the second time you’ve pointed that way,” Carter told him. The fighting is the opposite direction.”

  “No shit. However, the town is burning down the other way.”

  Carter eased up and looked over the barrel. A gust of wind whipped by him as he eased up to see flames coming out of the top of the building. The smoke was strong. The citizens were running out in the streets, screaming and yelling for water.

  “What are we going to do?” Rick asked.

  “Finish the outlaws,” Carter said, turning back around. “They’d love nothing more than to shoot at those innocent people.” He clicked the chamber of his gun shut and got back on his knees. “Listen! The shooting has ceased.”

  “They’re gone!” Thunder yelled just before he came out of the building. “Christ! There’s a fire.”

  Carter and Rick came from behind the wagon. “I guess we’re going to have to go after them,” Carter said.

  “That fire is getting near the jail!” Rick yelled.

  Carter swung around, the blood draining from his face. “Mary. She’s locked up. I’d forgotten about her,” he admitted.

  Thunder frowned.

  Carter took off, then stopped. “The Carlsons.” They were within in his grasp—all he had to do was ride after them. It was what he’d always dreamed of, what he’d always wanted.

  However, not when Mary’s life was endangered.

  Carter turned and started running toward the orange sky. It appeared as if the whole damn town was burning. The wind seemed to be whispering for him to hurry as it whipped up, causing the flames to soar higher and the dense smoke to become thicker. The wind was helping flames jump the street They landed on top of the dry goods store and other buildings. Several bucket brigades had already been formed. They were trying to save the opera house.

  When he reached the jail, smoke was pouring out the windows and panic like Carter had never experienced before threatened to take his breath away. He didn’t think twice as he barged through the door with his shoulder into black-gray smoke that sucked all the air out of his lungs and sent him to the ground. He sputtered and coughed until he could catch his breath, then got to his knees.

  The heat was unbearable as Carter crawled along the fire, praying the entire time. He was so damned scared that Mary would be dead, his hands were shaking. It was all his fault He shouldn’t have left her alone, just like he shouldn’t have left his sister alone. Evidently the years hadn’t made him any wiser.

  The smoke burned his eyes as he blundered through the smoke until he finally felt the hot metal bars, but the door was locked.

  His heart sank—she hadn’t gotten out

  After he got the keys and unlocked the door, he called, “Mary! Make a n
oise so I can find you.”

  Nothing.

  Part of the roof caved in and Carter had to roll to the side. He jerked the handkerchief from his neck and covered his mouth: Then he searched the cell, moving toward the bundle in the corner. The bundle wasn’t moving.

  “Mary.” Carter coughed, having taken in the bitter smoke. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he felt the bundle.

  Nothing. His brain screamed that it was all his fault.

  The flames were too intense to go any farther. Carter was forced to stumble back though the smoke until he fell out the door.

  He felt someone drag him off the porch and into the street. He coughed, gasping for fresh air, but he really felt like dying.

  When he finally got his wind, he looked up at Thunder. Tears blurred Carter’s vision as he whispered, “Mary is gone.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Thunder yanked Carter up by the shirt, which was no easy task. “What do you mean, she’s gone?"

  “I just told you. I found Mary’s clothes in the corner, but not Mary! And I’d suggest you get your hands off me,” Carter growled through clenched teeth.

  Thunder let go of Carter, but still gave him a hostile glare. “That doesn’t make any sense. Was the door open?”

  “No. I had to unlock it.”

  Something cracked behind them. They both swung around just in time to see the roof of the jail cave in, making both of them jump back as sparks flew high in the air and landed like raindrops around them.

  Thunder ran a hand through his hair. “If she were dead, you would have found her body, so let’s don’t think along those lines. She’s alive. She’s gone through too much in her life to die now.”

  Evidently Carter didn’t heed the warning, because as he gazed at the fire he said, “Maybe she went to the back room and couldn’t get out.”

  “I told you to quit thinking like that!” Thunder snapped.

  Carter had had enough. “I’m getting pretty damn sick of you right about now, so you’d better tread softly.” His voice was quiet, yet held an undertone of cold contempt as he finished. “You think that I’m not upset about Mary? Why, she means ...”