Man Who Burned Hell!, page 7
Two shots this time. Both took the would-be shooter in the chest, and he dropped his rifle and fell forward. He hit just below the top step and bumped and crashed down the stairs until he landed in a jumbled heap at the foot of them.
The Colt swung back to cover Beck and Cordis. ‘You were sayin’?’
Both men remained silent.
‘Eddie, are you still there?’ Ford called over his shoulder.
‘I’m here!’
‘Step inside a moment, will you?’
When she entered the saloon, Eddie immediately moved to her left, keeping the wall at her back. She met a withering glare from Cordis with one of defiance.
‘You need to leave,’ the hotel owner told her in a caustic voice. ‘This ain’t got nothing to do with you.’
A cold smile split her lips. ‘Can I shoot him, Josh?’
‘Only if he needs it.’
‘Oh, he needs it all right,’ she said, raising the messenger gun.
‘You know what I mean.’
Eddie’s green eyes sparkled, ‘Shame. I was looking forward to killing him.’
‘Who the hell are you?’ Cordis snarled.
‘I’m Eddie Yukon. Remember the name for when I do kill you,’ she sneered.
Recognition at the name crossed Cordis’ face.
‘That’s right. My brother was the sheriff here until you bastards killed him.’
‘If you’re all done gettin’ acquainted, would you mind keepin’ an eye on them?’ Ford broke in.
‘With pleasure,’ Eddie said.
Ford moved towards the bar. He walked behind it, glass from the mirror and bottles crunching beneath his boots. He bent down and dragged the wounded bushwhacker to his feet where he could get a look at him.
‘Hello Raven,’ Ford greeted him.
Raven moaned with the pain of his wounds.
‘Looks like you’ll have a date with the rope,’ Ford told him.
Alarm flitted across Raven Morris’ face and his eyes darted to Cordis. ‘I ain’t goin’ to hang.’
‘Shut up, Raven,’ Cordis snapped.
‘The hell with you,’ Morris bleated. His eyes locked on Ford. ‘OK. I’ll tell you what you want to know. But you can’t hang me.’
‘Who put you up to it, Morris?’ Ford asked him.
‘It was . . ‘
The roar of a gunshot filled the room and Morris clutched at his chest. His face contorted with pain before it relaxed and the bushwhacker fell dead.
Ford clawed at his Peacemaker and had it cocked and aimed in an instant. His trigger-finger was stayed by the sight of Ike Cordis with his arms raised and a still-smoking six-gun in his right hand.
‘Drop the gun!’ Ford shouted at Cordis.
With a nonchalant expression on his face, Cordis shrugged and did as he was ordered. The gun thudded loudly on the timber floor.
‘Son of a bitch,’ Ford cursed. ‘It looks like you’ll take his place on the gallows. Turn around and start walkin’.’
‘Where we going?’ Cordis asked.
‘Where do you think? Jail of course.’
Beck took a step forward to block their path. Ford sighted the Peacemaker on his chest.
‘Get the hell out of the way, Beck,’ Ford ordered. ‘Or I’ll blow you full of holes.’
‘It’s OK, Sam,’ Cordis assured his man. ‘I’m sure the judge will have no hesitation in seeing that it was a case of self-defence.’
‘Move, Cordis,’ Ford said and followed the killer out the door with Eddie close behind.
When the door to the jail opened just after midnight, the last person Ford expected to see was Camilla. As usual, she looked lovely in a floor-length, red dress that was low cut to accentuate the swell of her breasts.
Just the sight of her took Ford’s breath away. It didn’t matter that she’d shot him; the old feelings were still there and he hated himself for feeling that way.
‘What are you doin’ here, Camilla?’ Ford snapped at her.
She blanched at the vehemence of his words. She gathered herself and said, ‘I came to warn you.’
‘About what?’
‘Isom Friend is gathering men to come and bust Ike out of jail.’
‘Let them come,’ Ford told her.
‘They’ll kill you, Josh,’ she blurted out, her concern showing.
‘No, they won’t.’
Then she realized. This was the Josh Ford he’d always been. The man she’d loved and still did.
‘You haven’t changed,’ she said coldly. ‘Still have to do everything yourself no matter what. Even if it gets you killed.’
‘Comes with the badge,’ he said stoically.
‘You’re a damned fool.’
A wry smile touched his lips. ‘You and Bass need to get together. I’ve heard this tune played before.’
Anger flushed her face. ‘Damn you to hell, Josh Ford.’
‘Maybe one day, but not today.’
‘I hope they shoot you in your ass,’ she hissed and stormed out.
‘That woman still loves you,’ Eddie said from the doorway.
‘Did you hear what she said about Friend?’
‘Yeah, I did. They don’t let up, do they?’
‘Maybe you should make yourself scarce,’ Ford suggested.
‘A smart girl would do just that,’ Eddie agreed. ‘But I never considered myself to be one of those. I reckon I might sit out the back there with a messenger gun. And if they break in here, then I might just unload that gun, straight at that son of a bitch you got locked up.’
‘You don’t have to do this,’ Ford told her.
‘He had my brother killed, so yeah, I do.’
Ford stared into her emerald-green eyes for a long moment before the growing noise outside broke the moment.
‘You’d best get out the back,’ Ford told her.
Eddie’s gaze dropped briefly before she looked back up and nodded. ‘You be careful.’
Ford grabbed a messenger gun from the rack. ‘I always am.’
Out on the boardwalk in the dim lamp light, Ford could see the rowdy gathering rolling along Absaroka Street like a rising tide. They stopped in front of the jail and Isom Friend stepped forward.
‘We’ve come for Ike,’ he said in a brave voice. ‘Let him out.’
‘I would have thought that you lot would’ve learned from the last time you pulled somethin’ like this!’ Ford shouted above the noisy crowd. ‘This time someone will die if you try anythin’. You’ve been warned.’
Friend took another step forward. ‘The hell they will.’
The night was rocked as the charge of buckshot exploded from the barrel of the messenger gun in Ford’s hands. It smashed into Friend’s chest and threw him backwards into the crowd.
A stunned silence replaced the echoes of the shot as the mob stared collectively down at the dead railway boss.
‘Murderin’ son of a bitch!’ a man called out.
Ford shifted the aim of the messenger gun, and those in the front of the crowd cringed as they braced for the discharge of the second barrel.
‘You’ve all got a choice to make,’ Ford told them. ‘Go home or join your friend here.’
A ripple of uncertainty ran through the crowd and, one by one, they began to disperse.
Ford stood watching them until the last one had disappeared, taking the limp form of Isom Friend away. Once again, quiet settled over the streets of Serenity, but Ford knew there would be worse to come. There always was.
The Serenity courthouse had once been the town church. However, once construction had been completed on the new church on the outskirts of town, the court was moved from one of the saloons to its current location.
Ford pushed Cordis down into a wooden chair at the desk utilized as the defendant’s table. He looked around the surprisingly well-lit room at the people already seated, waiting for the trial to begin. Only a small few were townsfolk. The bulk was made up of miners and rail workers.
‘Looks to be a good turnout,’ Cordis commented. ‘Eager for the judge’s decision no doubt.’
‘Shut it, Cordis,’ Ford snapped. ‘Let’s see if you’re smilin’ when the judge puts a noose around your neck.’
‘Yes, let’s.’ Cordis smiled back.
Within minutes of their arrival, the judge, a round man with flabby jowls and large, red, bulbous nose, entered and stood behind his desk. The court clerk was about to speak but was cut short by the overweight man’s impatient voice. ‘Having reviewed the case and looked at the evidence, or rather lack of it, I feel that this matter going forward would be a waste of more than just my time.’
‘Your honour,’ Ford said, confusion evident on his face.
‘Therefore,’ he proceeded, as though oblivious that anyone had spoken, ‘I see no point in continuing. Case dismissed.’
There was uproar in the courtroom at the unexpected announcement. Ford looked at Cordis who sat there with a smug expression on his face.
The judge reached forward and picked up his gavel, its banging sounded like gunshots in the confined space.
‘Order! Order! Quiet I say!’ the judge roared.
After a moment, the noise died down but before the judge could speak again, Ford interrupted.
‘I would like to know how you came to that conclusion, Judge,’ Ford demanded.
‘And you are?’ he asked, as though becoming aware of Ford’s presence for the first time.
‘United States Marshal Josh Ford.’
‘Ahh yes, the killer with a badge. You’re lucky that you are not on trial.’
Ford ignored the remark and asked, ‘How can you dismiss the charges when he shot the man down in cold blood in front of a saloon full of witnesses?’
‘What witnesses?’ the judge asked. ‘Do you see any in this courtroom?’
‘I’m sorry, Judge, might I ask your name?’
‘Why?’
‘I need to fill out a report when I’m finished, and the marshal’s office is a stickler for dottin’ ‘i’s and crossin’ ‘t’s.’
‘I see. Very well, my name is Lemuel Jackson.’
Ford’s mind worked overtime as he tried to figure out if he’d heard the name before.
‘Is there anything else?’
‘Yes, why can’t you take my testimony? After all, I was there,’ Ford suggested, stalling.
Jackson frowned. ‘I suppose we could do that, if you insist. But it would do no good because I’ve already dismissed the case.’
Ford remained silent. He knew his offer had been a waste of time but the few moments gained by the stall had been sufficient to trigger his memory.
‘You know, I heard of a judge by the name of Jackson once,’ Ford said aloud. ‘He used to run a courtroom in St Louis. The word was he could be bribed with a bottle of rye. Anyway, he was caught out and ended up doin’ a year in the pen.’
As Ford spoke he saw the man’s face pale. ‘You wouldn’t be him by any chance, would you?’
‘No, no. Most definitely not,’ Jackson blustered and directed his gaze to Cordis. ‘Mr Cordis. You’re free to go.’
The deputy marshal looked at the prosecuting attorney. ‘Are you just goin’ to let this happen?’
The lawyer gave him a helpless look.
Ford shook his head and turned to leave when Jackson stopped him.
‘There was one other thing,’ the judge said.
Ford stopped to look at him.
‘The mine is reopened and the miners can go back to work.’
A cheer echoed around the room.
‘What about the creek?’ Ford asked. ‘The mine poisoned it.’
‘I have assurances that it all will be fixed,’ Jackson said.
Without looking back, Ford walked out the door. There was only one way to stop Cordis. With lead.
And little did he know, Hell was about to live up to its name.
Chapter 10
The reopening of the mine was cause for celebration, which is exactly what most did. With Ike Cordis fueling them with copious amounts of booze, the miners were cutting loose in the Dead Dog.
Ely, the saloon manager, approached the table where Cordis sat with Sam Beck, California Wells, Justus Harper, and Camilla. The latter began to look worried.
‘It’s time to close up,’ Ely said to Cordis.
‘Go away, Ely,’ Harper slurred. ‘Can’t you see we’re havin’ us a celebration.’
‘But the marshal. . . .’
‘Who gives a crap about the marshal,’ Harper snapped.
Ely looked at Cordis who nodded and waved him away.
‘Are you sure this is wise, Ike?’ Camilla asked Cordis. ‘He ain’t going to let this stand.’
‘Our marshal has grown too big for his britches, my dear,’ Cordis told her. ‘He seems to need reminding who runs our town.’
‘Maybe it’s you who needs reminding,’ Camilla said harshly. ‘From where I’m sitting, you haven’t been doing so well of late.’
Cordis’ eyes grew cold. ‘And maybe you need to be reminded of where you actually sit in all of this.’
Suddenly the room grew quiet and the crowd parted enough which allowed Cordis sufficient space to see the figure standing just inside the saloon entrance. He wore his hat pulled down low, his right hand held what was becoming his trademark. The sawn-off messenger gun. In his left hand, Ford held something long and cylindrical.
It took a moment for them to register what it was then someone gasped, ‘Dynamite!’
Cautiously a few of the miners edged past Ford and vacated the premises. Others stood and stared, unsure whether the lawman was bluffing or meant what he was implying.
‘This place is closed!’ Ford’s voice rang out. ‘From now until I see fit to allow it to open.’
The last of his words were directed at Cordis.
‘You ain’t got the stones to do that in here, Ford,’ Harper snapped in his drink-induced bravery.
‘Try me.’
Harper gave a sharp nod. ‘I’ll pay any man here $2,000 to kill this pain in the ass.’
The offer brought forth a string of murmurs before a voice said, ‘I’ll take that contract.’
California Wells stood up from the table and moved to one side. The crowd backed away to give a clearer line of fire.
‘This should be interesting,’ Cordis mused. ‘Wells ain’t no two-bit hack with a gun.’
Ford placed the unlit stick of dynamite into his coat pocket and changed the messenger gun into his left hand. He let his right hand drop to the Peacemaker’s butt and said to Harper, ‘Think very carefully about your next answer. If he draws his gun on me I’m goin’ to kill him and then you. Do you still want to walk that trail?’
‘Hell, yes!’ Harper shouted. ‘Shoot the son of a bitch, Wells.’
Before the last words were out of his mouth, Ford had commenced his draw. It was a blur of movement that even the best fast-guns in the business would’ve been proud of. The colt came up level and a shot crashed out.
California Wells may not have been a ‘two-bit hack’, as Cordis had put it, but he wasn’t in the class of Ford when it came to gun-speed. The slug punched into his chest, knocking him backward. A second shot hammered into him a short distance from the first, sealing his fate.
Ford shifted his aim and, without hesitation, made good on his word when the Peacemaker belched flame from its barrel and the bullet opened a neat hole in Harper’s forehead. The mine boss jerked back with enough force for his chair to tip and he clattered to the floor.
The Peacemaker moved once more and settled on the chest of Ike Cordis. He was unmoved and his face remained passive.
Once more a gunshot rang out, only this time it was Ford who fell under the bullet strike. He went to his knees, air knocked from his lungs with the force. He opened his mouth to speak.
‘You bitch. You shot me again.’
‘Someone had to,’ Camilla said. ‘You needed it.’
The room spun and Ford fell flat on his face.
Cordis stood up from his seat, his fist filled with his own six-gun. He looked at Camilla and the still-smoking gun in her clenched hand.
‘Saved me a bullet,’ he said gruffly. ‘Although, you were the last person I figured to put a slug in him.’
‘Why?’ she asked curtly. ‘You seem to forget, I shot him once before when he killed my brother.’
Cordis stared at her for a long moment then looked down at the dead men on the floor. He shook his head in disgust and pointed at the miners nearest.
‘Get them outta here,’ he barked.
‘And do what?’ one of the men asked.
‘I don’t care,’ Cordis said. ‘Take them to the undertaker.’
A few minutes later, Ford was being dragged out by his feet, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
His whole body hurt like a bitch, especially his chest. That felt like his damned roan had kicked him there. He moved his arm and the action brought forth a low moan.
‘You take it easy, honey,’ a soft voice said. ‘Or you’ll start bleedin’ again.’
Ford cracked his eyes open a touch and a pale face swam in front of him. He closed them again and waited a moment before trying once more. This time the face came into focus and he could put large brown eyes to it.
Her face was framed by black hair and her lips were full. She smiled and said, ‘It’s good to see you awake, handsome. I ain’t never had a man in my bed as long as you before. I was startin’ to think maybe we’d got married and I’d not been told.’
‘Water?’ Ford asked, his voice gravelly and dry.
‘Sure.’
The woman stood up from beside the bed and Ford got a better look at her. She wore nothing but pantalets and a red corset that forced her milky-white breasts upward so that they almost billowed over the top. From behind he could see that her hair stopped halfway down her back.
She walked to a cupboard against a wallpapered side of the room and poured a glass of water from a pitcher. She crossed back to Ford and gave him the half-filled glass which he nearly dropped.
‘Here, let me help.’
She leaned against him, putting her arm about his shoulders while the other hand held the glass to his lips. He couldn’t help but feel the suppleness of her body.
