Drifter 5

by Jake Henry

Behind him, flames took hold and smoke filled the room.

  Mavis watched over Llano Sam, a look of concern etched on her face. The scout needed a doctor, and Hanson had gone to fetch one, but she still didn’t like his chances of survival should he get the attention he needed.

  She could hear the rattle deep emanating from the scout’s chest with each exhalation and noticed his breaths were becoming shallower as it filled with blood.

  The sound of footsteps signaled the return of the kid with the doctor. They rushed in through the doors and hurried across to where Mavis and Sam were.

  Mavis breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank God.’

  The kid smiled. ‘He’ll be –’

  A gunshot sounded, and Hanson crashed to the floor.

  Startled, Mavis cried out. The doctor, on the other hand, moved swiftly to check on the fallen young man.

  ‘Don’t be in such a hurry, doc,’ Josiah Breen snarled. ‘It won’t hurt for him to bleed some.’

  Mavis turned to see Breen standing near the hotel’s counter. He’d slipped in through the back door without anybody noticing. He waved the six-gun in his right hand at Mavis.

  ‘Stand up,’ he snapped. ‘Then walk over here.’

  ‘No!’

  The six-gun crashed again, and another slug hammered into the kid. His body lurched from the impact.

  ‘Don’t!’

  ‘Do as I damned well say!’ spittle flew from his lips, eyes rolled crazily in his head.

  On trembling legs, Mavis stood up and walked slowly over to the madman. Once she was within reach, his hand shot forward and grabbed her by the hair.

  ‘Ouch! You’re hurting me.’

  ‘I’m going to more than damned well hurt you if I don’t get out of this town,’ he snarled.

  A trailhand ran in through the door and shouted, ‘Hey. The building across the street is on fire!’

  He saw Breen and … ‘What the hell?’

  Breen gave him no time to recover before putting a bullet in his chest. He then dragged Mavis towards the back door, calling out over his shoulder, ‘Tell Savage if he wants the girl back, to come get her. I’ll be waiting near the pens.’

  A couple of minutes later when Bannister found the doctor working on Llano Sam, he saw the dead cowboy and then his eyes settled on the still form of the kid.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Breen shot them and took the woman with him,’ the doctor explained. ‘He said to tell the one called Savage that if he wanted the woman back he’d find him down at the pens.’

  Bannister set his jaw firm and started for the door. ‘The hell you say.’

  Savage located a trail of red outside the back door and followed it to a large house on the outskirts of Dobson. Brit had obviously been seriously hit, judging by the amount of blood he’d lost over the course of his journey.

  The trail led right up to the front steps. Then the large drops tracked up them and across the verandah to the open door.

  From inside the timber structure came a scream followed by a meaty thwack! Then, ‘You told him, you bitch! You frigging warned him! Do you know what he did? He drove damned cows over us!’

  The sound of another slap reached Savage’s ears.

  He slipped inside the house and crept cautiously along a short hall, hoping not to step on any squeaky floorboards as he went, following the sound of the voices to a doorway at the end.

  ‘I’m going to kill you for what you did, you bitch!’ Brit snarled.

  Something wasn’t right with the killer’s voice. It was different somehow.

  ‘No, Brit. Please. I didn’t do anything.’

  Whack! ‘Liar.’

  Savage brought the Yellow Boy up and stepped into what turned out to be the kitchen.

  ‘That’ll do, Foster.’

  Brit turned to look at Savage, and for the first time, the Drifter could see the extent of the killer’s horrific injuries.

  His jaw was crooked and oozing blood, his left eye was all but closed and his shirt torn in more than one place. The blood trail followed by Savage had been issued from a wound with a protruding rib-bone which could be seen through a tear in the shirt.

  The wounded man instantly maneuvered to stand behind Lizzy Breen, his six-gun rammed into her back.

  ‘Fuck you! I’m going to kill you too, you son of a bitch,’ he slurred thickly.

  Savage was about to say something when the muffled report of Brit’s six-gun sounded. Lizzy’s eyes flew wide as the slug ripped through the front of her blue dress and sprayed a fine mist of crimson outward. She opened her mouth to scream but a squeak was all that emerged, followed quickly by a torrent of blood.

  ‘Son of a bitch,’ Savage hissed.

  As Lizzy slumped to the floor, the Yellow Boy roared, and the .44 Henry slug punched into Brit’s chest. He rocked on his feet and a snarl appeared on his face as he fought to stay erect.

  Savage casually levered another round into the Yellow Boy’s chamber. He stared into the pain-filled eyes of the once Union sergeant and his lips peeled back from his teeth. ‘No. Fuck you!’

  The next slug slammed into the misshapen face and blew out the back of Brit Foster’s head. The floor beside the body of Lizzy Breen now held a second corpse.

  The Drifter walked forward and stared down at the dead killer and then at Lizzy Breen. She stared back at him with sightless eyes. He shook his head. ‘What a waste.’

  Now it was time to kill her husband.

  ‘Let the girl go, Breen!’ Bannister snapped.

  ‘Where’s that bastard, Savage?’ Breen raged as he managed to only partially hide at the heels of the struggling form of Mavis.

  Behind Bannister a large plume of smoke reared its ugly gray head into the clear morning sky as the fire, which started in the lands building, had now spread to two others.

  ‘You’ll deal with me, Josiah. You killed the kid. Shot him down in the back like a dog. It’s time to pay up.’

  ‘What else did you expect? You ruined everything. It was all set up and you lot wrecked it.’

  ‘Shoot him, Mike,’ Mavis urged Bannister.

  Breen moved his hand across her face to silence her and thus made his mistake. One of his fingers slipped between her lips and into her mouth.

  Mavis bit down hard and felt the bones of the finger give, the warm, coppery taste of blood flooding her mouth.

  Breen screamed and wrenched the mutilated appendage from between Mavis’ sharp teeth. He reactively pushed her away, leaving himself wide open for what happened next.

  The shot from Bannister’s six-gun rocked the room and a red blossom appeared on Breen’s chest. The gun in his hand fell to the floor as his grip loosened and his strength ebbed away.

  Breen staggered forward a couple of steps before his legs failed to support his weight and he fell to his knees. He remained there for a moment before he fell onto his side, convulsed once and went still.

  Bannister walked over to Mavis and helped her to her feet. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I—I think so.’

  ‘Come on, let’s go find the others.’

  ‘I’m sorry about the kid,’ Mavis told him.

  Bannister just nodded. ‘Come on.’

  They found Savage coming out of the hotel where the doctor informed him about Breen and his demand. He wasn’t surprised to find Mavis with Bannister.

  The Drifter gave him a sorrowful look, ‘I’m sorry about the kid, Mike. He was starting to grow on me.’

  Bannister said, ‘I think he looked up to you in a way. He’d started to settle some, lose his hot-headedness.’

  ‘How is Sam?’ Mavis asked him.

  ‘Doc says he’ll pull through. How about you?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks to Mike.’

  Savage turned and looked back along the smoke-filled thoroughfare. On the side of the street where the fire had started, a bucket brigade was trying desperately to extinguish flames which now engulfed five buildings. In the middle of the dusty road la
y the mangled bodies of the outlaw crew.

  At final tally, the outlaws had lost twenty-five of their thirty men, and Savage’s crew was down eight. Of the Longhorns, ten had been lost in the stampede, with another four put down later on. Apart from the few lost buildings, the town had fared well, and the cleanup had already commenced.

  The following day, not long after sun up, a lone figure led his horse away from the cattle pens in Dobson. He’d climbed onto the back of his horse when he heard a voice say, ‘Leaving without saying goodbye?’

  Savage turned in the saddle and saw Bannister standing there with Mavis and Grub. He swung the roan about to face them. ‘I ain’t one for goodbyes.’

  ‘What about thank yous?’ Mavis asked.

  ‘Don’t need to thank me, any of you. All I did was get a lot of people killed.’

  Bannister said, ‘They were big enough to make their own choices.’

  ‘At least let me pay you for what you did,’ Mavis pleaded.

  ‘No need.’

  She stepped forward and passed Savage a thick roll of bills. He wouldn’t know until later that there was fifteen-hundred dollars in it.

  ‘Thank you, May,’ he said softly.

  ‘Where are you headed from here?’ Bannister asked.

  ‘I figured I might head on down to Abilene. See what a real Cowtown looks like. Maybe pick up some work.’

  Bannister held out his hand. ‘Good luck, Savage. It’s been right interesting knowing you.’

  Savage took the hand in a firm grip. ‘You too, Mike. Say goodbye to Llano Sam for me, will you?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Grub stepped forward and held his own hand out which the Drifter took. ‘Take care, Grub.’

  ‘You too, Savage.’

  Savage sat erect in his saddle, stared at Mavis, and reached up to touch the brim of his hat. ‘Ma’am.’

  ‘Goodbye, Jeff.’

  Savage swung the roan back around and pointed it along the trail. Behind him he left friends and a town with a blackened hole where eight buildings had been destroyed by the fire.

  As for Dobson, twelve months later it ceased to exist. It had been built on a dream and died a violent death.

  And once more, whispers went on about a man who was becoming a legend.

  A drifter named Savage!

  About the Author

  Jake Henry—a pseudonym for the prolific Australian western writer Brent Towns - explains, “My passion for all things western started at a young age when the first movie I saw was How the West Was Won. From there it was mostly movies until I was 13 and a close family friend gave me a small bag of western books to read. And as they say, the rest is history.

  “I devoured authors such as George G Gilman, Louis' L’Amour, and Marshall Grover. That though was only the tip of the iceberg. Australian authors such as Keith Hetherington and Paul Wheelahan were also on the menu.

  “I would consider myself a late starter to the western genre, because my first book, Last Stand in Sanctuary. Wasn’t written or published until 2015.

  “Since then other titles have come along such as High Valley Manhunt, Fury At Bent Fork, Brolin, and of course the Drifter series.”

  The Drifter Series by Jake Henry

  Savage

  A Gun for Shelby

  Kill the Tin Star

  Bring Me His Head

  Longhorns and Blood

  But the adventure doesn’t end here …

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