by Darrell Case
Chapter 18
Adam saw a glint in the corner of his eye. Wheeling around, he saw a small derringer in Shane's hand.
O'Malley pointed the barrel at Adam's chest. An evil grin spread across his face.
"Well now. You're not as dumb as you look, are you?" he said.
Adam stood frozen to the spot. Of all the reactions from O'Malley and Cooper, he never anticipated this. Frederick Cooper was white as a sheet. He dropped into the chair behind his desk.
"Why? Why would you steal from the church?" Adam asked. "You're wealthy."
"There's a good one for you," O'Malley said, laughing. "Wealthy am I? Without the money I get from the Market Street Church, I couldn't even afford this suit!" His left hand brushed up and down his side.
"Frederick. Now there's a man of integrity for you."
"Shut up, O'Malley!"
"What's the matter, Freddy? Afraid he'll find out you're stealing from the coffers?" "Don't worry, he will either join us or be dead," O'Malley said, moving around Adam as he locked the double doors leading to the hall.
"So what's it going to be, Reverend? Do you join us in our little enterprise or do we drop you right here?" He pulled back the hammer of the gun.
"Not here!" Frederick shouted.
"Keep your voice down. I'm not going to ruin your fine rug."
Stalling for time, Adam said, "How much could I expect each week?"
"Oh, I'd say a couple hundred."
"That's chicken feed," Adam said, edging closer.
"How much would you like?" Cooper asked, perking up.
"At least $500 and in about six months we move it up to $750 and a year from now $1000."
"That's ridiculous," Frederick said, slumping down again.
"Careful Preacher, you don't want to wind up like Peabody," O'Malley said, waving the gun.
A chill ran through Adam. He must be careful. If they had killed before, they would kill again. 'Keep them talking,' he told himself. "What happened to Reverend Peabody? I heard he died of natural causes."
O'Malley laughed. Cooper opened the bottom drawer on his desk, took out a bottle of amber colored liquid, and poured himself a drink. His hands shook so badly he spilled a large quantity. Pulling a silk handkerchief from his pocket, he mopped his brow and took a large gulp of the liquor.
"You talk too much, O'Malley," Frederick said. Downing the drink, he poured another.
"It's going to be hard for him to say anything. Either he's in with us or he'll be floating in the river with a bullet in the heart. What's it going to be, Wakefield?"
"Before I decide, I need to know if James is in it with you?" Adam asked, looking for an opportunity to act but seeing none.
It was Cooper that answered this time.
"You must be joking. That idiot? If he or Elijah knew, we would be in prison or hung."
"I guess I don't have much choice," Adam said, sticking out his hand to O'Malley as if to shake his.
"Not so fast, Reverend. How do I know I can trust you?" O'Malley replied backing up, refusing to take his hand.
"One thing I must know," Adam said, still holding out his hand smiling, "If James didn't help you, how did Pastor Peabody.. er .. pass away?"
"It's awful hard to breathe with a pillow on your face," O'Malley said with a smirk, "and sleeping powder in your stomach."
"Are we agreed on five hundred dollars a week?" Adam said, finally dropping his hand.
"No, Wakefield, we're not!" O'Malley said, pointing the tiny pistol between Adam's eyes. "I don't believe you."
Suddenly there was a banging on the library door.
"Frederick!" Erma Cooper called. "Frederick, Herbert has had to warm the food again! Frederick, do you hear me? Tell that impertinent minister to come back some other time."
Forgetting the door was locked, Shane lowered his gun. Seeing his chance, Adam jumped at O'Malley and grabbed for the pistol. Shane outweighed Adam by forty pounds, mostly fat but some muscle. He took advantage of his size as the two men struggled for the gun. Frederick scurried to unlock the door, intending to make his escape.
Adam's huge hand closed over O'Malley's fist. If it were a regular pistol, he would have torn it from Shane's grasp but the tiny derringer fit in the murderer's palm. O'Malley used his weight to plow into Adam; the minister grunted as he felt his ribs give. He tried hammering Shane's hand on the desk.
"Frederick, get back here and give me a hand!" O'Malley growled.
Frederick stopped. Hesitating between O'Malley and his still demanding wife, he faced the fighting pair just as the gun exploded. He was struck in the upper chest and knocked to the floor. Adam was momentarily shocked.
Pulling himself away, O'Malley aimed at Adam's chest, cocked the hammer, and fired. Missing the heart and lungs, the bullet lodged in his spine. Adam felt a fire burning in his chest. He stared at O'Malley, not able to comprehend the sudden turn of events. Suddenly his knees buckled and he collapsed on the floor.
He turned his head toward Frederick who lay next to him. 'We're dead,' Adam thought. 'O'Malley's killed us.' He was tired, so tired. Darkness enveloped him.
"Frederick!" Mrs. Cooper called. "Frederick, open this door immediately!"
She heard another of those loud popping sounds.
"Shane!" Mary called, "Is everything all right?"
Inside, Shane was moving the bodies into position.
"Herbert!" Mrs. Cooper called. "Come here now!"
"Yes ma'am," Herbert said, rushing into the hallway.
"Break down this door."
"Ma'am?" Herbert said.
"Do it now!"
"Yes ma'am," Backing across the hallway, Herbert lunged, hitting the door hard with his shoulder. It held with nary a shudder. A pain shot through his arm.
Hearing the thump, Shane leaned over Adam and pressed the gun into his hand. Herbert hit the door again, the results the same. The solid oak door looked none the worse for wear. Herbert's shoulder however was developing a large bruise.
"Oh for heaven's sake," Erma Cooper said. Picking up a marble statue off a nearby pedestal, she swung it around, slamming its nose into the doorknobs. Astonished, Herbert stood rooted to the spot with his mouth open. Pieces of the sculpture scattered on the floor. Mary O'Malley jumped back as Erma swung the statue again. This time she went for the lock.
The statue and lock shattered, sending the door swinging open wide. Erma screamed at the sight before her. The odious smell of blood mixed with gunpowder hung in the air.
Mary took in the scene before her. Adam lay prone on the floor, his feet at an awkward angle. Her husband's pistol was lying loosely in Adam's hand. Frederick lay across from him, his life's blood ebbing out. Shane hunched over the minister as if ready to strike.
Closer to Conway's age, Shane had wed Mary two years after the death of his first wife. Her delicate features, trim figure, blonde hair, and blue eyes made her a beautiful woman. Because of this, Shane believed her naive.
The look in Shane's eyes made her shiver. Hard as flint, they sent a warning message. Her heart leapt to her throat. One hand flew to cover her mouth, the other to her chest.
"He killed my husband," Erma cried, kneeling by Frederick's side. Springing up, she snatched the gun from Adam's limp hand. Shane ste
pped back. Erma raised the derringer, pointing the barrel wildly. Finally she settled on Adam's forehead. In an instant, Mary lunged at the older woman.
Grabbing at her wrist, she pushed Erma's hand aside. The bullet meant for Adam plowed into the floor inches from his head. For a few seconds, the two women stared at each other.
"I tried to stop him but he was too quick for me," O'Malley said by way of explanation.
"Herbert, send the maid for a policeman and bring the carriage around. Hurry!" Erma barked.
"Yes ma'am, right away ma'am." Herbert said already moving.
RIVER OF FIRE
