Live by the West, Die by the West
Page 51
“Down,” Smoke shouted to the maid.
She dropped without hesitation. Smoke popped a cap on the outlaw at close range. The slug pierced a forearm and entered a vulnerable chest. Smoke shot him again, and the thug’s six-gun flew upward out of his hand. It discharged when it struck the ceiling. The bullet went through the thin plaster and exited the building by way of the tin roof. A stunned expression washed over the dying gunnman’s features, and he fell face-first to the floor.
Smoke pointed to Lupe. “Stay here.”
Footsteps pounded in the stairwell as Smoke faced the next door. It was also locked. Smoke reared back for a good blow with his boot as Mac and three of Diego’s cowboys ran toward him.
“We got ’em all, Smoke. Most just gave up.”
“Stay back,” Smoke cautioned. Then he slammed his boot sole against the door.
It happeded in a blur. Smoke saw a thick-shouldered gunman facing the door and fired instinctively. The lout dropped his revolver and clasped his belly with both hands. Smoke shot him again. At once her looked to his left.
With a long-legged stride, Clifton Satterlee moved across the carpet toward a wide-eyed, visibly shaken Martha Estes. He had a .44 Colt Lightning in his left hand. Too, late, and knowing it, Smoke swung his Peacemaker toward Satterlee and fought to gain time with his voice.
“Don’t move!”
“Stop where you are.” Mac’s voice broke as he stormed into the room, eyes fixed on Satterlee.
Satterlee swung his Lightning away from Martha and fired double-action. His bullet hit Mac in the notch at the bottom of his throat. Quickly, Satterlee shot again. This .44 slug punched through Mac’s right lung and ripped out his back. Instantly, Clifton Satterlee grabbed Martha Estes and pulled her in front of him. Driven backward by the agony of his wounds, Ian MacGreggor stumbled into the corridor. He teetered on the banister for a precarious moment. Then his legs went out from under him, and he caught himself with his elbows.
Smoke did not have time to check the youngster and knew it. He faced Satterlee, who now held the muzzle of his Colt to Martha’s temple. “I’ll kill her. So help me, I will. Holster your iron and get out of my way. Let me go and she won’t be harmed.”
Reluctantly, Smoke complied. Then he heard a miserable groan from Mac, and his eyes narrowed to furious slits. “You’re a dead man, Satterlee. There’s no way you are getting out of here.”
Satterlee cut his eyes to a large carpetbag on the floor. It bulged with his portable wealth. Two finely wrought pieces of Tua jewelry spilled from the open top. “I’m taking that and her and leaving.
Smoke eyed the loot and returned his attention to Satterlee. “You killed that boy for nothing, Satterlee. More than for any other reason, I’m going to kill you for that.”
Clifton Satterlee forced a nasty chuckle. “Not likely, Jensen. I’ve worked too hard for that.” Again his eyes shifted to his ill-gotten gains. “You make a try and the girl dies.”
Suddenly, Martha Estes moaned and uttered a huge sigh. She went limp in the arms of Clifton Satterlee. The instant her head fell away from the gun barrel, Smoke Jensen drew with blinding speed and triggered a round. The slug hit Satterlee at the top of his nose and pulped the empire builder’s brain. He did not have time to send a signal to his trigger finger. He flew away from Martha Estes and sprawled across the bed.
At once, Martha straightened and opened her eyes. A big smile adorned her face. “I thought you might do that,” she told Smoke a moment before she rushed to him and gave him a big hug.
Gently Smoke disengaged her. “You’re safe now, Miss Martha. I’ll arrange for passage to your home. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Smoke stepped out into the hall and gazed down at the bloody, sweating, pale-faced Mac. Ian MacGreggor worked his throat, and his lips moved. He spoke in a low, wheezy voice. “I—I guess I’ll not be needing that gardening job.”
Something stung Smoke’s eyes, and he blinked rapidly. “That was fool thing to do, Mac. But you did save a girl’s life. I’m proud of you.” No reason to hide the obvious from the boy. “I’ll see that your family gets your pay.”
“Th—thank you, Smoke. It was—was an honor to fight at . . . your side.” That said, Mac heaved a mighty sigh and died.
Eyes wet and burning, Smoke Jensen turned away to discover that Don Diego Alvarado and his remaining vaqueros had arrived. Smoke went to his friend. “Alejandro took a couple of bad ones.”
“Yes, I saw. What about you?”
“I’ll live. But . . . Mac didn’t make it. I’ll have to see that the Marshal’s Office sends his pay to his parents.”
“It’s a beautiful day,” Martha Estes opined as she joined the two men.
Still deeply moved by the death of Ian MacGreggor, Smoke looked across the early morning vista. The rising sun cast a pink hue on the white caps of the Sangre de Cristo range. No matter the cost, peace could return to Taos and the Tua pueblo. He nodded to Martha.
“Yes, it is a right nice day.” She’s right, it’s beautiful, Smoke mused. Almost as beautiful as the Sugarloaf.
* * *
Sally and Bobby Jensen greeted Smoke’s triumphant return to the Sugarloaf with unbounded joy. After a long, energetic embrace, Smoke looked around and then kissed Sally on one cheek.
“It doesn’t look like anything has changed. What did you do while I was gone?”
Sally pursed her lips, fought to banish her sour memories, then answered. “I had a visit fron an old school friend.”
“That’s nice. Did you have a good time?”
“Like heck,” Bobby put in. “Her kids sure are a bunch of brats.” In spite of Sally’s sharp look, Bobby went on. “It’s the truth. And you’re always after me to tell the truth, Smoke. An’ to be man enough to stand up for it.”
Smoke put and arm around each of his family and started for the porch, hugging them tightly. “So, tell me about this friend of yours, Sally. And don’t forget the brats.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
WILLIAM W. JOHNSTONE is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over 300 books, including the bestselling series Smoke Jensen, the Mountain Man, Preacher, the First Mountain Man, MacCallister, Flintlock, and Will Tanner, Deputy U.S. Marshal, and the stand-alone thrillers The Doomsday Bunker, Tyranny, and Black Friday.
Visit the website at www.williamjohnstone.net.