Drifter 5

by Jake Henry

Savage’s voice was cold. ‘There’s your answer, sheriff. Now be on your way.’

  Hickam pressed on stubbornly. ‘I guess that’ll be for a judge to sort out, won’t it?’

  Savage’s thumb eared back the hammer on the Yellow Boy. ‘If you don’t turn your outlaw ass around and walk out those doors behind you, I’m going to put a .44 slug between your eyes. Your move.’

  Hickam’s face changed to a deep-red color. He wasn’t used to being spoken to like this. He had always been the intimidator, damn it. Time for them to learn.

  Something in the outlaw sheriff’s eyes must have telegraphed his intentions because even as his hand swooped down for the six-gun in its holster, the Winchester in Savage’s hand came up and he fired it one-handed.

  Just as he’d told Hickam, the bullet punched into his head, right between his eyes. The back of his head exploded outwards and a gory spray of blood, brains, and bone shards splattered over his deputies.

  The sound of another bullet being jacked into the Yellow Boy’s breech could be heard through the sudden din.

  The gun centered on the closest deputy and the Drifter snarled, ‘Out!’

  The shocked men didn’t move.

  ‘You don’t want to end up like your boss, get out!’

  ‘Hold it!’

  The crowd of onlookers parted and through the opening walked a man Savage knew only too well. Brit Foster.

  ‘Hello, Savage.’

  ‘Foster.’

  ‘Word has it that you’re a tough man to kill.’

  ‘I could say the same about you.’

  Brit absently rubbed at the livid scar beneath his shirt. ‘A Reb doctor saved my life. Paid him back by killing him when I escaped.’

  ‘Sounds just like you.’

  ‘Come on, damn it,’ Hanson growled. ‘Let’s finish it now. Kill these sons of bitches and it ends here.’

  Brit’s face turned to granite and his hand dropped to his six-gun. ‘You in a hurry to die, sonny?’

  ‘Leave it, kid,’ Savage warned him.

  Hanson never took his eyes from Brit. ‘I ain’t afraid of you.’

  Footsteps sounded on the floorboards and Bannister appeared. He looked at Hanson and said, ‘You should be, kid. Now, walk away.’

  ‘Mike …’

  ‘Now.’

  Hanson mumbled and walked away from the group. Brit stared at Bannister. ‘Howdy, Mike. Ain’t you on the wrong side of this one?’

  ‘Man goes where the money is good. Savage pays well.’

  ‘I see.’

  Savage interrupted them. ‘You go and tell Breen that we’re selling our cows to Barnes here. And if he has a problem with it, we’ll be at the pens in the morning. And tell him too, that once this is all done, I’m coming after him. I owe him a couple ounces of lead.’

  ‘You’ll have to get through me first.’

  ‘So be it. Tell him.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Brit and the others turned to leave.

  Bannister stopped them when he said, ‘Take your trash with you.’

  The killer signaled to the two deputies who bent down and grabbed Hickam by his arms and began to drag him across the floor towards the doors.

  The Drifter waited until they were gone before he turned around to the pale-faced Barnes and said, ‘Where were we?’

  ‘I guess we do it your way,’ Breen acknowledged. ‘Might I suggest we make an example of our illustrious cattle buyer?’

  ‘You want him killed?’ asked Brit.

  Breen slammed his palm down on the hardwood desk with a crack! ‘It’ll make the others think twice, by Christ!’

  ‘All right. What are we going to do about the cows?’

  ‘He invited us to a cattle sale tomorrow. We’ll not let him down. Get the men together first thing. In the meantime, kill that damned cattle buyer.’

  Mitch Barnes had a spring in his step when he left the saloon and started along the boardwalk toward his hotel. The reason might have been due to the way Savage had stood up to Breen’s men, or it could’ve been because he’d had a couple of whiskeys too many.

  Whatever it was, it made him feel great.

  The euphoria was short-lived when a shadow materialized from an alley to block his passage. He looked at the six-gun the figure was holding, and his bladder released, realizing instantly that the inevitable outcome to this situation would be his untimely death.

  And when the peaceful night was torn asunder by gunshots, Barnes was propelled backwards in a violent motion. He impacted the ground hard, his body arched and convulsed as he fought for life. Blood flowed from his mouth and the holes in his chest to pool beneath him.

  Barnes’ mouth opened and closed a couple of times and then everything went black.

  It was still dark when Lizzy Breen showed, looking for Savage with the warning of what her husband had planned.

  When Bannister shook him awake, the Drifter was dreaming about his dead wife and happier times.

  ‘Come on, Savage, wake up,’ Bannister growled, shaking his shoulder.

  ‘I’m awake, damn it,’ he moaned. ‘What the hell is the matter?’

  ‘You got someone here to see you.’

  Savage rolled out of his bedroll and stood up, stretching out the kinks. ‘Where?’

  ‘Over there, near the yard rails.’

  With the exception of Mavis, the crew had all camped at the cow pens in case of something sinister happening. Nothing had so far, however that didn’t mean it couldn’t.

  The Drifter blinked away the last vestiges of sleep and stared at the figure in the low firelight. He shook his head. ‘I don’t believe it.’

  ‘It’s her. You ain’t dreaming.’

  ‘Last time I saw her she got me shot.’

  ‘Maybe she came to say sorry.’

  ‘Let’s find out.’

  A moment later they both stood in front of Lizzy Breen.

  ‘What do you want?’ Savage’s tone was blunt.

  There was no hello, no apology, Lizzy just cut to the point. ‘Your buyer is dead.’

  A cold hand of realization settled on Savage’s shoulder. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Josiah had Brit kill him.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this?’

  ‘I was responsible for you getting shot the last time. I don’t want it to happen again.’

  ‘What do you mean again?’

  ‘Because they are going to come down here and kill you after the sun comes up. Brit and Josiah have scraped together around thirty men for the job.’

  Savage looked at Bannister. ‘Looks like there’s a fight coming. Are you in or out?’

  ‘If the cattle don’t get sold, I don’t get paid. I’m in.’

  ‘All right,’ Savage turned back to Lizzy. ‘Thanks for the warning. Now you best get out of here before they work out you’re not where you’re supposed to be.’

  ‘Be careful, Jeff Savage.’

  ‘I always am.’

  Once she was gone, The Drifter said to Bannister, ‘Let’s get Grub over to the hotel with a shotgun. He can watch over Mavis while this all plays out.’

  ‘Okay. I’m sensing you have a plan, already.’

  ‘Yeah. Let’s hope it works.’

  By the time they were ready, the sun had clawed its way into a clear sky, painting the surrounding landscape a red hue.

  An omen, Savage thought, but for who?

  The street below was eerily silent. Beside him, on the Cattleman’s Hotel’s second-floor balcony, Llano Sam waited patiently. Across the other side of the street were two more trail hands. The rest, along with Bannister and the kid, were waiting for Savage’s signal.

  ‘I wish these fellers would hurry up,’ Sam growled.

  ‘Don’t be in such a hurry to die,’ Savage told him.

  ‘Who said anything about dying. These bastards are keeping me from getting paid.’

  There was movement from behind them and Mavis stepped out and joined them in the fresh air.

/>   The Drifter gave her a scornful look. ‘What are you doing out here? I told Grub to keep you in the room across the hall.’

  Two men stepped out from behind her.

  ‘These men insisted they help.’

  Savage looked at the two buyers, Carson and Simpson. They both carried Henry rifles. The Drifter shook his head. ‘Go back inside. This ain’t no place for greenhorns.’

  ‘Who’s a greenhorn?’ Carson asked. ‘We both served. We know one end of a gun from the other.’

  ‘Well, make sure one of you stays alive. I aim to sell them cows once we’re done here.’

  ‘Do you have enough men?’

  ‘I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?’

  A low whistle came across the street from on top of the dry-goods store. Savage glanced over and saw one of the men signal that Brit and his hired killers were coming.

  ‘Keep low,’ Savage hissed. ‘Once this kicks off, it’s going to be like Antietam all over again. Mavis, get back inside.’

  The crowd of men moved quietly along the street. Savage could see Brit out in front of them, but no sign of Breen.

  The Drifter waited until they were level with his position before he stood up, his Yellow Boy at the ready.

  He said in a loud voice, ‘You all going somewhere, Foster?’

  The rest of them stood up and raised their guns.

  Down below, the armed bunch was confused as to what was going on. How did they know? But not Brit.

  ‘She told you, didn’t she?’ he shouted. ‘The bitch told you.’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘I guess not. I’ll kill her later, after I’ve killed you.’

  Savage shrugged. ‘I guess that means you ain’t going to surrender.’

  ‘You guess right. After all, there ain’t enough of you to go around. Did Bannister run out on you? Always knew he had him a yeller streak.’

  ‘Nope. He’ll be along directly.’

  ‘Pity you won’t be around,’ Brit snarled and brought his gun up and fired.

  It was a hasty shot, one which missed and chewed splinters from the wooden façade behind Savage.

  With that, the street roared to life, gunfire rolled along it like thunder.

  On the street three men had already fallen with the first volley from those above it. One man had a slug in his belly and was hunched over, his bloody hands trying to hold his guts inside the brutal wound.

  Brit fired a second shot at Savage and missed again. This one tugged at the Drifter’s shirt-sleeve.

  Savage fired back at the killer, but another outlaw got in the way and the slug buried itself into the man’s chest.

  A pained shout came from across the street and the Drifter saw one of the hands stumble around like a drunk, on Saturday night, before another bullet smashed into his chest close to the first.

  ‘Damn it,’ Savage cursed and shot one of the other outlaws below.

  ‘I’m hit!’ the pain-filled voice drew his attention and he saw Simpson down on his knees.

  Savage shouted, ‘How bad?’

  ‘Bastard got me in the shoulder.’

  ‘Get back inside and get Mavis to look at it.’

  The buyer disappeared in through the door and the Drifter turned his attention back to the street. That was when a rumbling sound started to reverberate, and he could feel the tremors coming through the timber beneath his feet.

  He wasn’t the only one to feel it. On the street the outlaws felt it too. But by then it was too late.

  A frantic shout drew Brit’s attention toward the end of the main street. His eyes widened as he saw the throng of Longhorns jammed shoulder to shoulder as they were driven toward the group of gunmen.

  Another shout made the killer turn to look the other way. If the first sight made him show a hint of fear, this one made Brit go weak at the knees. Another wall of Longhorns was charging at the melee from the opposite direction. Behind them he saw the figure of Bannister atop a horse, shouting orders at the few men who rode with him.

  ‘The cows!’ Brit shouted desperately. ‘Shoot the frigging cows!’

  The outlaws turned and saw the immediate danger and froze. Thousands of pounds of beef were bearing down upon them and there was nowhere for them to go.

  The gunfire switched targets as the men below concentrated their fire on the cows. Others headed for the boardwalks.

  A great, bawling tide of hooves and horns closed fast and the group and animals slammed up against each other, swallowing those of Brit’s gunmen who remained on the street.

  Savage saw that one of them had escaped to the far boardwalk. A big black and white beast charged at him, his horns sweeping all before him.

  The gunman tried to climb an awning post but at the last instant, slipped and the cow caught him with one of its horns. It gored him just beneath the ribcage and the Drifter saw it drive deep and emerge out the back, its white-patched shoulder no longer pristine, but a dark shade of red.

  The gunman’s scream could be heard above the noise as the large animal carried him off the boardwalk and onto the street where the outlaw slipped from the horn and disappeared under the roiling mass.

  Somehow others had avoided being trampled to death. Savage saw another gunman jump through a store-front window as he was about to be crushed by a thousand-pound creature. After the beast was gone the man appeared back at the window. He gathered himself and was about to shoot a mounted trailhand when a shot from Bannister flung him back inside.

  Below their position on the balcony, Hanson rode up on his horse. Savage saw him shoot another fleeing gunman and sight on another when seemingly from nowhere, a bloodied Brit appeared and was about to shoot the oblivious kid in the back.

  A piercing war cry sounded, and before Savage could do anything, Llano Sam launched himself from the balcony and onto the killer below.

  Both men went down beneath a mass of stomping hoofs. A gunshot sounded, and Brit seemed to erupt above the backs of the animals as one would from beneath the surface of a raging river.

  Then he broke free of the tide and disappeared inside the land claims office.

  Savage bit back a curse, gripped the Yellow boy, and leapt over the rail. He landed on his feet between two large Longhorns. The spooked animals lashed out at him but he managed to narrowly avoid their deadly prongs.

  Savage bent down and checked Sam and found him still alive. He’d been stomped a couple of times and had a bullet hole in his chest but was still breathing.

  The kid saw what was happening and urged his horse through the crush towards where the Drifter stood.

  ‘Are you crazy?’ he shouted above the din.

  ‘Give me a hand!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s Sam. Give me a hand.’

  The kid came down from his horse and helped Savage get him up.

  ‘What happened to him? Wasn’t he up there with you?’

  ‘Crazy fool thought it would be a good idea to jump on Brit right as he was about to shoot you in the back.’

  There was disbelief on the kid’s face. ‘From up there?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  They managed to get him off the street and back into the lobby of the hotel. They laid him on the carpeted floor and ripped his shirt open. There was massive bruising over Sam’s torso and a blackened hole which bled freely in his chest.

  The sound of running feet was followed by a man crashing through the doors. He saw Savage and the kid hunched over Sam and swung his gun up to shoot them. Instead the six-gun in the kid’s hand roared and the slug smashed into the man’s chest. Savage fired too and the slug from the Yellow Boy ripped into the now wounded man’s throat. He fell to the floor, his boots drummed out a staccato tune, and then he was still.

  Savage turned his attention back to Llano Sam and cursed. ‘Shit. Kid, get upstairs and find Mavis. She can take care of him until we can get him to a doctor.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going after Foster.’


  Hanson nodded. ‘Kill the son of a bitch.’

  ‘I aim to.’

  No sooner had Savage walked through the door when a bullet chewed splinters from the frame near his head. The Drifter spied an outlaw and fired at him.

  The bullet missed, but a shot from Bannister brought him down.

  Bannister eased his horse over to where Savage was. The herd had cleared somewhat, and the Drifter could see the bloody, trampled mounds of what were once men.

  ‘Have you seen the kid?’

  ‘He’s inside with Llano Sam. How many?’

  ‘We lost four men. I don’t know where Foster is?’

  ‘I do,’ Savage said. ‘I’m going after him. Find Breen.’

  ‘I thought you wanted him.’

  ‘I want the other son of a bitch more.’

  Savage marched across the street, up onto the boardwalk, and in through the open door of the lands office.

  The room was rocked by the sound of gunfire and bullets rattled the door frame behind him. The gloom of the office was temporarily lit by the flames that shot out of the killer’s gun barrel.

  Savage dived to the floor behind the counter, which happened to be where Brit was hiding. Rolling onto his back, Savage swiveled around and started to shoot through the counter’s thin timber frame. On the other side, Brit had the same idea and wooden splinters were soon being exchanged in both directions across the room, accompanied by flattened lead slugs.

  Savage cursed as splinters peppered his exposed skin. ‘Shit! Bastard!’ All the while he kept firing the Yellow Boy. Lever and fire, lever and fire.

  The sound of shattering glass reached the Drifter’s ears.

  Lever and fire.

  Then the hammer fell on the empty chamber.

  ‘Christ!’ Savage flung the weapon aside and dragged his Remington from its holster. However, no more bullets smashed through the scant barrier, and the room fell silent.

  He came to his feet and cautiously peered around the end of the counter. Brit Foster was gone. Then he noticed the flames starting to lick at the plank wall.

  ‘Damn it.’ Savage rammed the six-gun back into his holster and scooped up the Yellow Boy. He thumbed fresh loads into it and headed for the back door.