Kane narrowed his eyes. “What are you saying?”
“I think it’s time to consider our options.”
The others watched him carefully. Each man understood the meaning behind his words.
Quinn looked out at the sunset. Tomorrow they would ride to Casper one last time. If Emerson killed Charlie, the gang would be Quinn’s for the taking. When he considered the possibility that the fight might go the other way, a chill went down his spine.
Charlie was bringing death to Casper, and there was only one man with a chance to stop him.
Chapter Eighteen
As the last vestiges of night yielded to the impending rise of the morning sun, Christian rose from the small cot in the back of Doc Brooks’ store to prepare for what was to follow. His feet touched the wooden floorboards, and he stood in silence for a few moments and listened to the sounds of morning. The floor creaked under his weight as he made his way across the room to the dresser.
This was it. There was no backing out now. Casper was counting on him. If he didn’t beat Charlie Sheldon, the entire town would be brought to its knees. Christian didn’t intend to allow that to happen.
God, grant me strength, he prayed as he slid the shirt over his head. One last time.
Christian had no illusions about what was to come. He would very likely die. While with any luck he might take Charlie Sheldon with him to the grave, Christian felt the weight of the moment like an inescapable grip. He could no longer count the number of occasions he had faced death. How many times had he escaped? From the war onward, he was always a marked man. It was just a matter of when.
He pulled on the pair of boots sitting beside the bed. The earliest traces of dawn crept into the small room from the solitary window, casting light on his holsters. Christian picked up his guns and fastened the holsters securely around his waist. He took a step toward the door and nearly fell when the light-headedness returned. Christian grimaced uncomfortably. The night’s rest had worked its wonders, but he was still not fully recovered from the ordeal on the mountain. He balled his hand into a fist and drew himself up.
“I can do this,” he whispered aloud. “I must do this.”
It felt like every inch of his body was sore. Christian pushed the door open and walked into the next room, which sat empty. His boots thudded across the floor as he cleared the room and stepped outside. In the distance, a rooster crowed outside the thin walls of the apothecary.
Christian treaded down the abandoned street, looking out over the town. Each place held a memory for him. He passed the diner where he first had coffee with Landon Morgan. He saw the stables where he first met Finley. Christian couldn’t help chuckling when he remembered how Finley had drunkenly attacked him the saloon, swinging like a madman. There was the barbershop where the barber had given Christian his first shave in months. He passed the jail and the courthouse, which had spent too long under Jim Markham’s shadow.
Christian approached the ruins of the saloon on his way to the barn. This had all started when he stopped the rustler in the saloon from assaulting May Turner. It felt like an eternity had passed since then. Whatever his intentions were in the beginning, Christian knew he had become a part of Casper.
He let himself into the barn and spent a few minutes with his horse. He stroked Galahad’s muzzle. The chestnut watched him with large, unwavering eyes. They had been through a great deal together, over many years.
“Goodbye, old friend,” he said finally before leaving. He walked along the bank of the river and remembered what Reverend Burke had said during Dennis Potter’s baptism.
For God will bring every deed into judgment, with every secret thing, whether good or evil.
Christian fixed his gaze on the mountains. Charlie Sheldon and his men had much to answer for. When Abigail’s and May’s lives were on the line, Christian had been willing to give himself up. Now, it was time to stand and fight. Come what may.
Around Casper, people were starting to emerge from their homes. The streets remained quiet for the most part, with many no doubt hoping to avoid the rustlers’ wrath. Christian trudged up from the riverbank and returned to the street. Most of the stores were closed. Christian suspected that would be true for the rest of the day. A storm was coming, and his name was Charlie Sheldon.
“Where you think you’re going, boy?” a voice demanded.
It was Morgan, alongside Finley, Rudolph Griffith, and Sheriff Newton.
“To finish this,” Christian answered.
“Well, you aren’t doing it alone.” Morgan held a rifle in his bandaged arm.
“We’re in this with you,” Finley said.
Christian was caught off guard by Newton’s presence. He saw that the man was carrying a shotgun, in addition to the two revolvers holstered at his side.
“Sheriff?” Christian asked, surprised.
“I figured you could use the help,” Newton said plainly.
Christian looked out over the men. Morgan was old and injured, Griffith likely couldn’t even fire a weapon, and Christian couldn’t remember ever seeing Finley hit a target.
“I won’t ask you to die for me,” he said.
“Not for you,” Morgan replied. He glanced toward the cemetery. “For my son.”
“In that case,” Christian said, “I’d be honored to fight alongside you.” He looked at each of the others. “There’s no turning back from this. If you stand with me, either we will win, or Charlie will kill us all. There’s only one way this can end.”
Newton gave Griffith a pistol and instructed him on how to fire it. Christian privately doubted the businessman would prove much use in a fight. Griffith’s best asset would be in simply boosting their numbers. Finley wore an anxious look on his face. As usual, it was impossible to tell what Morgan was thinking underneath his stern expression. Christian went over his plan, and the men readied themselves for the shootout.
It was almost noon when the horsemen first appeared in the distance. A cloud of dust followed the rustlers’ trail from the mountain. Christian mustered all his strength and stepped out into the road. The others took cover behind walkways and in alleys. Christian unholstered one of his pistols. It was time. He glanced from side to side. Near the edge of town, dozens of townspeople huddled inside their homes, watching anxiously from windows as the horsemen rode past them. Christian turned his attention to the rustlers, who drew to a stop several yards away.
The outlaws numbered seven men. Charlie Sheldon sat silently on his horse, behind the others, farthest from Christian. Charlie motioned to Quinn Blackwell, and the man advanced toward Christian on horseback. Newton stood in front of the jail, his shotgun pointed at Quinn’s chest. Quinn’s eyes darted to the alley where Finley was hiding, and he spotted Griffith and Morgan waiting behind the ruins of the saloon.
“He’s not alone,” Quinn called back. An eerie silence followed as Charlie’s gaze sought out the others.
“This ends today,” Christian shouted. His voice carried loudly across town. “This is your last chance. Ride out and never return.”
Several of the rustlers looked worried, but Charlie burst into laughter. “I don’t think so,” he yelled. “What have we to fear from a fat man, a boy who can’t shoot, or an old fool who couldn’t even save his son? We outnumber you almost two-to-one.”
“Even so,” Christian said. “We’ll put a fair number of your boys in the ground before we’re through.”
Charlie considered his words. To Christian’s surprise, he nodded. He waved his hand, and Quinn fell back. The riders retreated down the road. For a moment, Christian thought they were really leaving.
Then Charlie pointed to the right, and the group split in two and turned back toward town.
They mean to surround us, Christian realized.
“Take cover!” he shouted. He ran to join Newton,
and the two shot at the three riders who sped past them, firing back as they rode.
Before Christian could give further thought to the men, the other half of Charlie’s men dismounted and took cover.
“They’re riding toward the school!” Finley shouted. Four of the rustlers were driving their horses in the direction of the schoolhouse. Christian looked on in horror as the horsemen dismounted outside the building. He was too far away to stop them, and the other group of attackers was on their way back.
“Lock them up,” Charlie said to his men. “Trap everyone inside.”
Children’s screams sounded from inside the building. With no back door, there was no way out. The rustlers knocked over lamps and set fire to the schoolhouse before barricading the entrance.
It wasn’t long before Christian saw smoke rising in the distance. Charlie intended to burn it down with the children trapped inside. Christian knew it was a trap to draw him out into the open. It didn’t matter. He flung himself out from cover, firing as he ran closer to the school. When the rustlers saw him, they fired in his direction. Finley stepped out to cover his path, and Newton and Morgan followed his lead.
“Finley!” Christian shouted once he was under the cover of the walkway on the other side of the street. “Come on!”
When the young man turned to go, a rustler’s bullet hit him in the leg. He fell to the ground out in the open. Christian’s eyes widened. There wasn’t enough time to reach him.
Then Rudolph Griffith ran into the street, firing his weapon wildly. The rustlers took cover long enough for Griffith to drag Finley inside the general store.
Christian sprinted through a stream of bullets. He heard a shout and thought he hit one of the rustlers, though he wasn’t sure.
* * * * *
Russell Hale felt the searing heat from several feet away. Flames engulfed the schoolhouse. The fire seemed to grow with each second that passed. Children’s screams rang out from inside.
He had planned to leave before Charlie’s men ever reached Casper. He packed his belongings and had purchased a horse on which to flee, but the rustlers arrived before he got the chance. Now he looked on in terror, his eyes fixed on the flames. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
Casper was consumed with chaos. Charlie Sheldon planned to unleash hell on the town, and if he were not stopped it wouldn’t be long before all of Casper was razed to the ground. Russell stood silently, his entire body trembling. How did it ever come to this? His gaze returned to the school, where the rustler with the gun stood guard in front of the building to keep the children from escaping. To his relief, the gunman hadn’t spotted him yet.
The screams grew louder. Spurred on by the potential loss of innocent lives, a few citizens finally emerged from their houses with guns, but they were too far away to make enough of a difference. Emerson was on his way, but only Russell was close enough to do anything.
He watched as part of the roof fell down outside the school, landing on the ground in a flaming heap. In that moment, something changed in him. The look of fear on his face was replaced with determination, and he ran as fast as his legs could carry him toward the school.
The guard didn’t see him coming until it was too late. Russell hit the man hard on the back of the head. The man hit the ground with a curse. Before he could recover, Russell hit him again, and a third time. The rustler collapsed against the ground.
“Help!” he heard someone scream desperately from inside.
“It’s going to be all right!” he shouted above the cries as he attempted to lift the barricade against the door.
Gunshots echoed across town. Russell looked up to see if anyone had spotted him. Charlie Sheldon was staring at him, a look of rage on his face. Russell’s heart pounded like a drum, but he remained exactly where he was despite Charlie’s proximity. He kept working, even as two more rustlers drew closer to the school.
Finally, when it seemed he was out of time, Russell succeeded in opening the door. Children spilled out, tears streaking down their faces.
“Go on!” he hollered, gesturing to the church in the distance. He prayed they would find refuge there. “To the church!”
He could see Emerson exchanging fire with one of the outlaws across the street. The bullets cascaded toward the school. With the children safely out of harm’s way, it was time to find a place to hide.
It was then that he heard a child’s cry for help. Russell’s eyes fell toward the back of a wagon next to the burning school, where a little girl hid. His eyes widened as bullets streaked past the girl, who was too frightened to move. Without thinking, he ran over to the wagon and picked the girl up.
“You’re safe now,” Russell whispered reassuringly as he held her tightly in his arms. “I’ve got you.” He started toward the church, carrying the girl.
He was mere yards away from the school when he felt the first bullet. He heard a scream and realized it was his own. As he fell, Russell caught Emerson’s eye, and shock registered on the gunslinger’s face. The heat from the fire inflamed the back of Russell’s neck. His thigh hurt where the bullet had struck him. He could see his blood seeping into the soil beneath his boots.
Russell held the girl closer to his chest. Then he gritted his teeth and rose to his feet. He ran as hard as he could toward the church, which loomed ever farther. Bullets streamed around him. In the back of his mind, he knew he would never make it.
* * * * *
Christian watched the mayor race from the burning school, carrying a small girl in his arms. Christian tried to get close enough to protect Russell, but the rustler with whom he was exchanging fire was relentless. He crouched behind a post and fired blindly, hoping to draw the rustlers’ attention away from Russell and the girl.
Then Charlie Sheldon, standing in front of the school, pointed his gun at Russell and shot him in the back from thirty yards away.
Christian flung himself into the open and put a hole in the heart of the rustler who was shooting at him as he ran toward Russell.
* * * * *
Russell’s knees hit the street, and his grip on the girl loosened.
“Go,” he whispered to her. “Run.” The girl took off for the church. Before he collapsed, Russell saw Landon Morgan scoop up the girl in his good arm and spirit her away.
From the flat of his back, the mayor stared up at the sky. The sun bore down on him from above, but its warmth felt only comforting rather than excruciating. He could not see where the bullet had exited, though the ground was covered in his blood.
So, this is what it’s like to die, he thought.
“Russell!” a voice shouted.
“Mr. Emerson,” Russell moaned, searching for the face of the one man who had believed in him. “You were right,” he added weakly, attempting a smile. “I think I made the right choice.”
There was a depth of compassion in Emerson’s eyes Russell never would have expected from the hardened man.
“My name is Christian,” the rider said. He hesitated for an instant before saying, “Christian Burr.”
“Pleased to have met you, Christian Burr.” Then Russell Hale’s eyes rolled back, and he saw no more.
* * * * *
Christian lowered the man to the ground and rose to his feet. The other rustlers on horseback raced toward him from across town.
Charlie Sheldon stood in front of the school, the look in his eyes as wild as the flames behind him. On his face he wore a mocking grin. His unkempt hair blew in the wind as he leered at Christian, his gun in hand.
Christian shook with anger. He clenched his jaw and stepped toward Charlie. Every eye in town was on them.
“Enough,” he said.
Before Charlie could even move, Christian drew his pistol and pulled the trigger.
The bullet ripped through Charlie’s
upper arm. Charlie dropped his gun and sank to his knees in the dirt in the middle of the road. He clutched his bleeding arm, disbelief in his eyes.
Quinn Blackwell held up a hand. The rustlers on horseback came to a stop on the road some distance away, watching the scene unfolding in front of them from a cloud of dust. Then they turned and rode away. Charlie watched them go, shocked by the sudden display of disloyalty.
Christian walked up to Charlie and kicked his gun away, staring down at him with a dark gaze.
“You’re all alone,” Christian said. “There’s no one to help you.” He pointed his pistol at the Charlie’s head. “I should kill you now, for all you’ve put this town through.”
Christian’s hands shook. He was tired and still recovering from the beating he endured in the mountains. “Reach for your gun,” Christian said, looking at the weapon he’d kicked just out of reach. Even now, he would not shoot an unarmed man.
Charlie shook his head. Christian saw from the look in his eyes that Charlie knew he wouldn’t stand a chance.
Charlie whispered, “Why don’t we settle this like men?” he asked. “I’m shot, and you’re in a sad state.”
“Don’t do it!” Finley Mason shouted from the doorway of the general store.
“Kill him!” someone else yelled.
Christian held his gun on the rustler. Then he lowered the weapon.
“No,” he said. Christian looked at Charlie. “So that everyone will remember what happened here today. No one will fear you ever again.”
Charlie was on his feet in an instant. He rushed Christian and caught him in his stomach with a hard punch. Charlie grabbed the weakened man and threw him back, nearly toppling him. Christian barely sidestepped another punch.
“I’m going to kill you,” Charlie whispered. Christian was drained of energy. Even shot, Charlie was in far better shape.
The next time Charlie rushed Christian, he didn’t bother to try evading the collision. Instead, he caught Charlie’s hand in his fist and smashed his head into Charlie’s face. Charlie took a few steps back, but Christian didn’t give him time to breathe. Instead, he hit Charlie hard in the chest with a punch that staggered him. Charlie swung blindly, and Christian hit him in the jaw with an uppercut.
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