Man Who Burned Hell!, page 9
Ford stared out the window and down at the street near the livery. He thought long and hard.
‘No. After dark, I’m goin’ back to work. The first thing I aim to do is shut down the Dead Dog. If Cordis wants a war, then he’ll get one.’
‘But you’re only one man,’ Eddie pointed out. ‘Even with my help, we’ll still be outgunned.’
Ford’s face grew stony. ‘You stay out of this. What comes next is nothin’ for a woman to be involved in.’
Eddie opened her mouth to protest but Ford shut her down. ‘I know what they did to your brother and I’m sorry for that. But I can’t take you along on this. It’ll be a distraction I can’t afford. You’ll need to be able to kill a man without compunction, without question and I’m not sure you can.’
He could see the disappointment on her face. ‘Stay here out of sight. I’m goin’ to be around but not at the jail. From now on I’m not lockin’ anyone up. By the time this is over I’ll either be dead, or Cordis will be.’
‘But you just can’t. . . .’ Eddie protested.
‘Can’t what?’
They turned and saw Camilla standing in the doorway.
‘Don’t you believe in knocking?’ Ford asked, dismissively.
‘Can’t what?’ she repeated the question.
‘He says he’s going back to work,’ Eddie explained.
‘They’ll kill you, Josh,’ Camilla said, unable to hide her concern.
‘That’s what I told him,’ Eddie echoed.
‘You’re the only one who’s come close to that,’ he pointed out. ‘Do you plan on shootin’ me a third time?’
‘If it will keep you safe, yes.’
‘Can I rely on you to get some things for me?’
‘What?’
‘My guns, ammunition, some other bits ‘n’ pieces.’
‘Make me up a list and I’ll get it for you,’ Camilla told him. ‘What about your horse?’
‘I’ll fix him myself after dark,’ Ford told her.
‘But where are you going to stay if not at the jail?’ Eddie asked.
‘I’ll be around,’ Ford said. ‘Which is more than I can say about Cordis.’
‘Oh, Josh,’ Camilla said, exasperated. ‘How on earth are you going to stop him?’
Ford smiled wryly. ‘First I’m goin’ to make him good and mad. And then I’m goin’ to kill him.’
When Ford walked into the Dead Dog saloon sometime after ten that night, the whole barroom looked as though they’d seen a ghost. The man standing before them was dressed in black and aside from the Peacemaker in his holster, his hands also held the messenger gun that they’d become used to him carrying. Tucked into his belt were two more six-guns and hooked over his left shoulder by a leather strap was a Winchester rifle.
The silence was so complete that Ely Cramer came out from his office to see what was happening.
The instant he laid eyes on Ford he gasped and said, ‘You’re dead. You can’t be alive.’
Ford looked around the room. ‘It looks like you got yourself some new guns.’
He counted at least three armed men around the room.
‘What do you want?’ Cramer asked, apprehension in his tone.
‘Get everybody out,’ Ford ordered.
‘What?’
Ford saw one of the new guards move off to his left. With blinding speed, Ford released the messenger gun with his right hand and palmed up his Colt. The weapon roared and the would-be killer staggered with a blossom of red on his shirtfront.
Taking deliberate aim, Ford fired a second shot, which knocked him on to his back. Shouts of alarm filled the room and Ford locked his gaze once more on Cramer.
‘Get everybody out, Cramer,’ he said in a menacing voice. ‘You have exactly one minute.’
‘Or what?’ asked the pale-faced manager.
Ford dropped the Peacemaker into its holster and pulled the stick of dynamite that he’d threatened them all with before he was shot the last time, from his pocket. ‘I’m not foolin’, Cramer. Get them out.’
‘You’re a lawman,’ the manager said confidently. ‘You can’t do that.’
Remaining silent, Ford reached into his opposite pocket and retrieved a book of matches. Without any fuss, he took one and lit it. Then he placed it against the dynamite’s fuse until it spluttered into life.
‘He’s goin’ to do it!’ a miner shouted and started a grand exodus of pushing and shoving bodies.
Ford doused the fuse and waited until the Dead Dog was empty. Almost empty. Cramer still stood in front of him, defiance etched on his face. He nodded towards the extinguished fuse and said, ‘I told you; you couldn’t do it. You may not be dead yet, but Cordis will kill you and I’ll be standin’ there to see him do it.’
‘Maybe,’ Ford allowed, ‘but that depends.’
‘On what?’
Ford relit the fuse with another match, tossing the deadly blasting implement behind the long hardwood bar. He turned and started to walk towards the street. As he went he said nonchalantly, ‘On how fast you can run.’
Cramer charged past Ford who had almost reached the door. His shouts of alarm sent everyone outside scattering for cover. As they watched from their assorted sheltered positions, they witnessed something that could only be described as surreal.
As Ford stepped from the boardwalk down into the street, the dynamite exploded. The glass of the front window blew out, a large orange ball of flame in its wake, escaping from within, while the rest of the building seemed to implode on itself, leaving a pile of burning rubble. The sound resonated across Serenity as though the sky above it had been torn asunder by some invisible giant.
Pieces of timber rained down upon Absaroka Street like man-made hail, and in the middle of it all, a black-clad figure illuminated by a halo of a flaming orange backdrop continued to walk away.
Josh Ford.
When the debris had stopped falling, Cramer raised his head slowly above the rim of a water trough he’d been cowering behind. His jaw dropped when he saw the burning wreck that had once been the Dead Dog saloon. The buildings either side of it were also ablaze. One was the adjoining pool hall that Cordis also owned. The other was, or used to be, a rare commodity: a dentist office. It had been abandoned because the previous tenant had been shot by a disgruntled customer.
Cramer looked about for the man who’d caused the chaos but Ford was nowhere to be seen. The saloon manager swallowed hard. What was Ike Cordis going to say?
Two gunshots close together slapped against the walls of the back room in the Royal Palace saloon and those present heard their ears ring. Cramer jerked violently as the sound echoed in his head. He watched the two remaining guards from the Dead Dog drop to the timber floor, shot through the heart, and the ringing continued.
The six-gun in Ike Cordis’ fist moved to its left and centered on Cramer’s chest.
‘No, wait!’ he blurted out, arm outstretched, palm facing the irate man who was about to kill him, as though it could stop the bullet that was about to end his life.
‘Why?’ Cordis snarled.
‘There was nothin’ could be done to stop it, Ike, honest,’ Cramer pleaded. ‘He was supposed to be dead. How is it that he’s still alive?’
Cordis thought for a moment and as he did so, the anger surging through him abated. He leathered the six-gun and said, ‘You’re right. For Ford to have survived that gunshot, he would’ve needed a doctor. Sam, have a couple of men find him and bring him here.’
Beck nodded.
‘One more thing. Put it around that I’m goin’ to pay $2,000 for that sonofabitch’s head. Let’s see how long he stays alive with that hangin’ over him.’
The explosion jarred Judge Lemuel Jackson from his slumber but he thought nothing of it. Serenity nights were full of noises: gunshots, shouts, and all kinds of other things. For some reason, though, he had trouble returning to sleep. He tossed and turned for about half an hour when he became aware of a presence in his room. He rolled over and reached for his bedside cupboard only to feel the cold, hard barrel of a gun press against the side of his head.
‘You got five minutes to get some clothes on and get the hell outta town,’ a voice hissed.
‘Don’t shoot me,’ Jackson bleated. ‘I’m a judge.’
‘You’re no more a judge than I am,’ the voice hissed. ‘Now move.’
The overweight man rolled out of bed and found his clothes, all the while careful not to look at the face of the man in his bedroom. When he was dressed, Ford lit the lamp beside the bed. The orange light illuminated his face and Jackson’s eyes immediately grew wide.
‘You,’ he gasped. ‘You’re dead.’
‘Not hardly,’ Ford said. Then he had a thought. ‘Where does Cordis keep all of his money?’
‘I – I don’t know,’ Jackson lied.
The gun hammer ratcheted back, bringing an alarmed expression to Jackson’s fleshy face.
‘Wait, he keeps it at Ike’s Place,’ he said hurriedly. ‘That’s where most of the gambling happens. There’s a safe in Bale’s office.’
‘Does it have a back door?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good,’ Ford nodded. ‘Now get out of town. If I ever see you again, I’ll see that you end up in a federal pen.’
At the livery twenty minutes later, Jackson had managed to saddle a horse in preparation for his departure from Serenity. It wasn’t his horse; he didn’t own one. But any horse would do to get him as far away as possible from this town.
He led the sturdy-looking bay outside and managed to drag his large frame into the saddle. He sat atop it and kicked it in the ribs with his heels.
‘Come on, horse,’ he urged it but the animal remained immobile.
‘Damnit, horse, move!’
Nothing.
‘God damn ornery son of a bitch—’
‘Goin’ somewhere, Judge?’ a voice asked from the shadows.
Jackson jumped and almost fell from the saddle, his head whipped around. ‘Who, me? Nothing. Nothing at all.’
‘A little late to be goin’ ridin’ ain’t it?’ the man asked. ‘Come to think of it, I ain’t never seen you on a horse before.’
‘I – I, ahh . . .’ Jackson stammered.
The triple-click of a gun hammer going back made Jackson kick furiously at the horse, which still refused to budge.
‘Get off the horse, Judge,’ the man’s voice came in a harsher tone this time. ‘I think we better go and see Cordis. I think he’ll be mighty interested to hear why it is you’re tryin’ to leave town.’
Chapter 13
Ike Cordis listened intently to what Jackson was telling him. The jabbering idiot was hard to understand so he concentrated his gaze on the man’s face, willing him to finish. The judge, however, kept glancing at the bloody figure of the town doctor and pausing his story, forgetting where he was up to. The medic was tied to the chair beside him and a large man worked him over with fists covered in blood.
The more he stopped and started, the darker Cordis’ mood became. When the judge mentioned that he had told Ford where the money was kept, Cordis shot him where he stood. Four times.
‘What the hell is happening to this town?’ Cordis raged. ‘Come on, Sam, we got to get to that money before Ford does.’
Before he rushed out the door, he looked down at the unmoving form of the corpulent man and shot him again.
When Mort Bale entered his office, the last thing he expected to see was Josh Ford sitting in his leather-backed chair, feet resting on the polished timber desk. He opened his mouth to shout but the sight of Ford’s Peacemaker made the shout die in the back of his throat.
‘Just come in and lock the door behind you,’ Ford ordered. ‘We wouldn’t want any interruptions now, would we?’
Bale did as he was told and turned back to face Ford. ‘What now?’
‘Put the key on the desk.’
Bale tossed it and it landed on the hardwood top with a metallic clunk.
Ford indicated to the Mosler safe in the far corner. ‘Unlock it.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Because I want what’s in it,’ Ford snapped, coming to his feet. ‘What the hell do you think I want?’
‘No,’ Bale said confidently. ‘And you won’t shoot me because you need me to open it.’
‘You know what? You’re right,’ Ford agreed and shot him in the foot. ‘Open the damned safe.’
Bale screamed. The slug had punched through his shoe and foot and embedded itself in the wooden floor.
Ford hurried forward and grabbed him by the collar. ‘Open the damned safe or I’ll shoot you in the knee next time.’
Moaning with pain, Bale started to spin the small wheel on the front of the safe. First one way then the other until he could pull the heavy door open.
‘There you go, you son of a bitch,’ Bale said through teeth clenched against the pain that radiated from his foot up his leg. ‘When Ike gets hold of you, he’ll kill you slow for takin’ his money.’
Ford removed an empty burlap sack from inside his coat and started to fill it with everything he could carry. All the notes went in, along with some of the gold. He couldn’t take it all, but what he had would do nicely. He figured there to be around $30,000 worth of mixed currency in the sack.
He stood up then directed his gaze at Bale. ‘That should get his attention, don’t you think?’
Suddenly the door rattled and a heavy fist pounded on the timber. Muffled voices sounded from the other side and Ford began to move towards the back door.
‘I guess it’s time I was leavin’, Ford observed. ‘You tell Cordis I’m sorry I missed him and I hope to catch up with him real soon.’
‘You’re a dead man Ford, you bastard,’ Bale cursed him.
As he was leaving, Ford gave him a wave and said, ‘I’d say that once Cordis finds out what happened here, you’ll be the dead man long before me. Have a nice life, or what’s left of it.’
No sooner had the back door closed than the main office door burst open and Ike Cordis strode through the opening, six-gun in his fist. Sam Beck followed him.
‘He’s just gone out the back door,’ Bale said with urgency. ‘If you hurry, you’ll get him.’
Beck rushed across to the door, wrenched it open and disappeared out into the darkness. Cordis tore his gaze away from the open safe and fixed it on the wounded manager.
‘What happened?’
Bale flinched at the harsh edge to his voice.
‘He – he was in here waitin’ for me. He must’ve come through the back door.’
‘Wasn’t it locked?’ Cordis asked, demanding an answer.
‘I – I don’t know. Normally it would be but. . . .’
‘But it wasn’t and now the son of a bitch has virtually cleaned me out,’ Cordis snarled.
Beck returned through the door and looked at his boss. He shook his head. ‘He’s gone.’
Trembling with rage, the six-gun in Ike Cordis’ fist lined up on the center of Bale’s forehead.
‘No! Wait!’
Bale would never know how close he came to dying at that moment, because the man who’d been working over the doctor chose that moment to enter the room. Cordis gave him a questioning look.
‘The doctor talked,’ he said in a low voice.
‘Who?’
‘Camilla.’
‘He’s lying,’ Cordis snorted. ‘Go and question him again.’
‘I can’t. He’s dead.’
‘Damn it.’
‘He wasn’t lyin’,’ the man said. ‘He told me so I would stop beatin’ on him.’
‘It’s not true,’ Cordis assured him. ‘It can’t be.’
‘She ain’t been around much, Ike,’ Beck pointed out.
‘She’s as much a part of this as we all are. I don’t believe it,’ he stated. ‘And I’ll prove it. Come on, we’re goin’ to see her.’
Eddie was torn from her slumber by the sound of raised voices and something breaking. She sat on the side of her lumpy mattress and listened, unsure whether it had come from within the building or out on the street. The room was bathed in silvery moonlight that filtered through the window. She slipped from the bed and stepped lightly across to the door, opened it a crack and listened.
‘After all I’ve done for you, this is the way you repay me?’ she heard a man snarl.
‘Keep away from me, Ike,’ came Camilla’s voice, ‘or I’ll stick you with this knife.’
She heard a maniacal laugh then Camilla screech, ‘Keep away from me!’
Eddie shut the door and hurried to where her clothes hung over a chair. She dressed in quick time and strapped her six-gun around her waist. She made sure the gun was fully loaded, cocked the hammer then exited the room into the hallway.
A dull orange glow from a single lamp barely illuminated the wooden walls and long carpet runner. The sounds grew louder as Eddie neared the top of the stairs. One of the girls poked her head out of her room and gave her a frightened glance.
Eddie shooed her back in and turned as another girl hurried towards her. The terrified look on her face said it all.
‘What’s happening?’ Eddie whispered.
‘It’s Ike and Sam Beck,’ she blurted out, fear dripping from her voice. ‘Ike’s gone crazy. He knows Camilla helped the marshal after she shot him. He’s going to kill her.’
‘Get to your room and lock the door,’ Eddie told her. ‘Stay there and don’t come out.’
The semi-naked girl hurried along to the third door on the right and went inside.
Eddie started to move cautiously down the stairs. Below her, the sounds continued. The shouts, a woman’s cries of alarm, and at one point Eddie heard a meaty thwack resonate up the stairs. A surge of anger ripped through her, and she threw caution to the wind and took the last steps in a couple of strides.
At the bottom of the stairs, Eddie stopped near a door that was ajar and paused. Inside the room, she heard Cordis ask, ‘Where is he?’
‘I don’t know!’
Thwack!
She’d heard enough. Eddie pushed the door open and stepped into the void. Cordis with an upraised hand was ready to strike Camilla another blow. Sam Beck was on the other side of the beaten and bloodied woman, who cowered lower on her wooden chair.
