Burning Daylight

by William W. Johnstone

  Maybe he ought to stay still without giving any sign that he was starting to wake up, he decided. Also, the sound of voices, faint and incomprehensible at the moment, had begun to penetrate his cobwebbed brain, and he thought it might be a good idea to wait until he figured out who they belonged to and what they were saying.

  One of the voices rumbled, sounding like wagon wheels on bad road. That has to be Creager. The sharp, angry tones that answered came from Three-fingered Jack McKinney. That were arguing about something, and Luke had a pretty good idea what it had to be.

  Him.

  Specifically, his life, which Creager no doubt wanted to bring to a swift and final ending.

  Gradually, the fuzziness in Luke’s hearing faded as the pain in his head subsided to a dull ache. He began picking out words in what McKinney was saying.

  “. . . no proof that . . . ruined our plans.”

  “Who the hell else could have done it?” Creager’s deep, gravelly rumble was easier to understand. “You heard what Bolton said. He saw Jones coming out of that saloon while the fight was going on. Jones caused a ruckus early just to keep us from robbing that bank!”

  Creager was smarter than he looked, Luke thought.

  “Why would he do that?” McKinney asked. “Luke stood just as much to gain as any of the rest of us.”

  “How the hell do I know?” Creager rasped back. “All I’m sure of is that he’s to blame.”

  Anew, higher voice joined in the argument. “The only reason you think that is because you hate him to start with!”

  “Stay out of it, kid,” Creager said. “When we want to hear your whining, we’ll ask for it. And that’ll be never!”

  McKinney said, “Creager’s right that you need to stay out of it, Aaron. This is something for the men to decide.”

  “Thad and me have had to play the parts of men ever since you rode off and left us.” Aaron sounded just as angry with his father as he had been with Creager.

  “Don’t talk to Pa like that,” Thad responded. “Go over there and sit down on that rock, like he told you before.”

  “Go to hell,” Aaron muttered. Luke heard boots scuffing the ground near him, and then he could tell by the sounds that Aaron was sitting down on the ground beside him.

  While the others were talking, Luke had moved his arms and legs just enough to discover that he wasn’t tied up, although not so much that anyone would notice unless they happened to be looking right at him when he moved. Even though he was still free, he knew he was in no shape to put up any sort of fight. He had to wait, bide his time, let more strength seep back into his body while bloody-handed outlaws stood around him and debated his fate.

  “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now,” McKinney went on. “The boat will dock in Stanton today to pick up that gold shipment and take it back downriver. We might as well move on and figure out another job somewhere else.”

  Creager said, “They still have to take the gold from the bank to the dock. We could hit the place then.”

  “Between the guards who’ll come in on the riverboat and the ones already in town, those mine owners will have forty armed men on hand. I’m not going to ride right into a bear trap like that with my eyes wide open. They’d wipe us out, Creager, and you know it.”

  “Damn it, I thought you had more sand than that!”

  “Are you calling me a coward?” McKinney asked.

  “I’m just saying you never used to hesitate so much before those brats of yours joined up with us. You need to get rid of ’em. Send ’em back home bawlin’ to their mama!”

  “The boys aren’t going anywhere,” McKinney said. “It’s too dangerous—”

  “It’s dangerous to us just having them around!” Creager broke in. “You can’t think straight anymore because you’re too busy worrying about them.”

  Luke heard mutters of agreement from some of the other men. He didn’t like the way this confrontation was shaping up.

  “You’ve already put this damn stranger who calls himself Jones ahead of me, just because you’re grateful to him for helping your brat,” Creager continued. “We’ve been riding together for years, McKinney. You taking his side the way you did sticks in my craw.”

  “I didn’t take his side. I just stopped you from finishing off a man who may not have done anything wrong. I’ll talk to Jones when he comes to. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “It’s too late for that. You’re gonna have to choose, McKinney. Me and the rest of the boys, or those kids and that double-crossing stranger!”

  An uneasy silence followed Creager’s ultimatum. Luke thought it was time he got a better handle on the situation. He didn’t move, but he opened his eyes to narrow slits.

  They were no longer in the little depression on the other side of the hills from Stanton that had served as the gang’s rendezvous point. A small campfire crackled and gave off a flickering red glow that revealed mostly desert and a few rocky knobs around them. Luke guessed that the gang had headed east after regrouping and probably had gone several miles before stopping again.

  Having a fire wasn’t the smartest thing in the world when it came to the chance of renegade Apaches being out there somewhere in the darkness. Nobody could do anything about that, though. The fire was already burning.

  The light from it illuminated a tense scene. McKinney and Thad stood on one side of the flames, to the left of where Luke lay on the ground with Aaron sitting beside him. Creager was on the other side of the campfire with the rest of the gang. Luke wondered if some of them had moved to where Creager was when he’d started arguing with McKinney in a show of support for the brutish outlaw.

  Regardless of how it had developed, things didn’t look good. If all the men on Creager’s side of the fire were ready to back his play, McKinney and his sons were facing overwhelming odds.

  “What’s it gonna be, McKinney?” Creager asked. “Get rid of the brats and give Jones to me so I can settle my score with him . . . or am I gonna be the boss of this gang from here on out?”

  McKinney’s lips drew back from his teeth in a furious grimace at the challenge.

  “You think I can’t shade you on the draw, Creager? McKinney’s whiplike body had a crouch to it. His hand hovered over the butt of his gun, ready to hook and draw.

  The obvious threat didn’t seem to have any effect on Creager. He stood calmly and said, “Maybe you can, maybe you can’t. Even if you put lead in me, I’ll put a bullet in you before I go down. You know that, McKinney. And as soon as you kill me, the rest of the boys will finish you off, along with Jones and those kids!”

  McKinney’s eyes flicked to the other men. “You wouldn’t shoot down innocent boys,” he said, but he didn’t sound completely convinced of that.

  “Look, Jack, we just want things to go back to the way they used to be,” one of the men said. “You runnin’ things, plannin’ jobs that netted us a lot of loot and dodgin’ the law dogs.”

  Another man said, “It’s been a good run, Jack. You’ve done right by us. But a gang like this is no place for youngsters. They’re muddlin’ up your thinking, and you know it.”

  “So you’re backing Creager’s play?” McKinney asked bleakly. “You’re going to let him take over?”

  “He’s got some good ideas,” a third outlaw spoke up. “He knows of a bank we can hit that’ll put a lot of money in our hands.”

  “Oh? Where’s that?”

  An ugly grin stretched across Creager’s face as he replied, “Singletary.”

  Luke felt just as shocked as McKinney, Thad, and Aaron. Singletary was the county seat close to where the McKinney spread was located, where he probably still had friends, or at least people he had considered friends during his earlier life as a law-abiding rancher and farmer. Ever since returning with the gang to that part of the country, he had avoided pulling jobs in what he probably considered his hometown.

  “By God, you’re not going near there,” McKinney said after a few seconds of st
unned silence.

  Luke saw movement then, a darting shape coming up behind McKinney, and he knew instantly that one of the outlaws in the back of the group had slipped away into the darkness, circled around, and was about to attack McKinney from behind. It was an effort to complete Creager’s takeover of the gang without a gunfight that would probably leave several of them dead.

  “McKinney, look out!” Luke shouted as he tried to push himself up off the ground, hoping his muscles would work.

  The attacker was too close. The gun in his hand rose, then chopped down viciously while McKinney was still turning toward him. The revolver slammed into McKinney’s head with a dull thud. McKinney’s knees buckled. He had gotten his gun out of its holster, but it never came up before the outlaw hit him again and knocked him to the ground.

  “You bastard!” Thad cried. He clawed at his gun.

  Close beside Luke, Aaron tried to scramble to his feet and lift the heavy Henry rifle he clutched.

  Luke saw guns coming up on the other side of the fire and rammed a shoulder against Aaron, knocking the boy off his feet as shots began to roar. Bullets whipped past him and sizzled through the space where Aaron had been a second earlier. Luke got a hand on the Henry’s barrel and yanked it out of Aaron’s grip.

  “Kill ’em all!” Creager bellowed.

  The man who had just knocked McKinney to the ground tried to follow that order, swinging his gun toward Luke.

  Luke struck first, using the Henry like a club to knock the outlaw’s gun arm aside. He grabbed the man’s shirt with his other hand and slung him toward the fire. The outlaw stumbled and fell, rolling through the flames and screaming as they caught his clothes and hair on fire.

  That served to scatter the burning brands and plunge the camp into deeper shadow. Muzzle flashes split that darkness as Thad triggered shots and the rest of the gang returned them.

  Luke turned the rifle where he could use it and told Thad, “Grab your pa and get up the hill!” He sprayed several rounds among the outlaws as fast as he could work the Henry’s lever and pull the trigger.

  The gang scattered, giving them a few seconds’ respite.

  Luke hoped that would be enough. Looking around earlier, he had noticed some rocks up on the hillside that would serve as decent cover if he and the three McKinneys could reach them. “Aaron, go!” he snapped at the boy. “Get up the hill!”

  Thankfully, Aaron had enough sense to scramble to his feet and obey the order, racing up the slope through the shadows. Barely upright, McKinney was only semiconscious, but he stumbled along as Thad held onto him and urged him up the hill.

  Luke backed away, still firing to keep the outlaws’ heads down. He sent some shots toward a dark mass he took to be the horses, not intending to kill any of them but figuring if he could spook the animals, that would also serve as a distraction. Shrill, frightened whinnies sounded.

  A man yelled, “Don’t let those horses stampede, damn it!”

  Luke glanced around, saw Aaron scoot behind a rock and Thad and McKinney drop behind a good-sized boulder. Luke felt the wind-rip of a bullet passing close beside his ear as he threw himself down behind a thick slab of stone.

  “Aaron, do you have any more bullets for this old Henry?” he called to the youngster.

  “I’ve got a whole pocket full of ’em!” Aaron replied.

  Luke checked his holsters. His Remingtons were still there, the loops on his shell belt were full, and he had extra rounds in his pockets, too. He smiled for a second in the darkness. “I’m going to toss the rifle back over to you. Ready?”

  “I’m ready,” Aaron said.

  More shots blasted from below as Luke raised up to toss the Henry over to Aaron. Some of the slugs came close enough that he heard them whistle through the air, but no closer. Luke dropped down again as Aaron caught the rifle.

  “Thad, how’s your father?” Luke called. He could just make out Thad and McKinney on the far side of Aaron.

  “He’s starting to come around,” Thad replied. “He’s got a cut on his head that’s bleeding some, but I don’t think he’s hurt too bad.”

  “How are you fixed for ammunition?”

  “I’ve got plenty! Just let those varmints try to come up here!”

  Luke wasn’t sure if the young man was telling the truth or if Thad’s answer was for the benefit of Creager and the other outlaws, to make them believe they faced stiffer opposition than they really did. However, at least for the time being he and the McKinneys had good cover, the high ground, and enough bullets to put up a fight. A chance, in other words, and no man could ask for much more than that.

  The shooting from below died away. The outlaws could keep throwing lead up, but they would be wasting time and bullets.

  A long, tense quarter of an hour ticked past, and by then McKinney had recovered enough to shout down the slope, “You boys better listen to me! It’s not too late to call this off! Nobody’s dead yet!”

  “You think we’d ever trust you again?” Creager called back. “You made it clear where you stand, McKinney!”

  “I wasn’t talking to you, Creager! You’re a dead man no matter what those other fellas decide to do! I’ll see to that myself! But the rest of you . . . put your guns away, move out into the open away from Creager, and we’ll forget this whole damn thing ever happened! Creager and I will settle this between ourselves, the way it ought to be!”

  Since no shooting was going on, Luke was able to hear the buzz of conversation down below as the outlaws talked about what McKinney had said. For a moment, he hoped that maybe they would actually listen to reason.

  But then one of the men shouted, “Forget it, McKinney! We’re goin’ with Creager to Singletary to empty out that bank!”

  Yells of agreement came from several more of the outlaws.

  McKinney began, “I won’t let you—”

  A bray of laughter from Creager interrupted him. “You can’t do a damned thing to stop us! You’re out in the middle of the desert, miles from anywhere, with no horses! We don’t even have to kill you! The desert—or the Apaches—will do that for us!”

  Luke’s heart sank as he understood what Creager meant to do. Sure enough, within moments he heard men moving around and then the sound of horses. The outlaws threw a few last shots up the slope, but then hoofbeats rolled out and filled the darkness.

  “They’re leavin’ us here!” Thad cried. He stood up and started emptying his revolver in the gang’s direction as they rode away.

  McKinney grabbed the back of the youngster’s shirt and pulled him back down. It was a good thing he did. A few more shots blasted and one of those slugs might have found Thad by blind luck. The hoofbeats swelled up, then began to fade.

  Luke, Three-fingered Jack McKinney, and his two sons were alone on the knob, set afoot with nothing around them for miles and miles except snakes, scorpions, bad water, and worse . . . Apaches.

  CHAPTER 31

  Quietly, Luke said to his companions, “We’d better wait a while before showing ourselves, just to make sure they’re not trying to trick us. They could have left some riflemen behind to pick us off.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” McKinney said. “How are you holding up, Jones? You got shot in the head a while ago, after all.”

  Luke lifted a hand to the side of his head and gingerly explored the painful, sticky welt he found there before saying, “Creager just grazed me with that bullet. It hurts like hell, but it seems to have stopped bleeding. And my skull is so thick that it takes a lot to dent it.”

  “You’re lucky. An inch to the side and that slug would have gone through your brain.”

  “Yeah, but an inch the other way and it would have missed me entirely,” Luke said dryly. “And Creager would be dead now. You can bet a hat on that.”

  McKinney grunted and said, “No bet.”

  “How about you?” Luke asked. “How’s that skull of yours?”

  “It hurts, but I’m pretty thickheaded, too. Thad,
Aaron, are you boys all right?”

  “I wasn’t hit, Pa,” Aaron replied. “Thanks to Luke.”

  “I’m fine,” Thad said. “Just mad as hell. Creager’s as loco as a rabid skunk.”

  “He’s not crazy,” McKinney said, “just greedy and mean. I can’t blame the other boys too much for following him. They’re scared of him, I reckon.”

  “Well, I’m not!” Thad insisted. “I’m gonna kill him the next time I see him.”

  Luke said, “Seeing Creager again involves getting out of this predicament first.” He drew his bandanna from his pocket, rolled it into a crude bandage, and tied it around his head so that the bullet graze was covered in case it started to bleed again. He could feel the dried blood where it had trickled down the side of his face.

  “I guess I’d better go down and see if any of the horses got away from them,” he said as he stood up at last. “If we can get our hands on a mount or two, it’ll help.”

  “I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” McKinney advised.

  “Believe me, I’m not.”

  Luke kept one of the Remingtons in hand as he went down the slope. Some embers from the scattered fire still glowed. It hadn’t been an actual camp for the outlaws; they had just stopped there to decide what to do with Luke, and Creager had turned that into a showdown over who was going to run the gang.

  Luke searched, but it didn’t take him long to determine that none of the horses were still around. Creager and the other men had taken all the animals with them, including the four that Luke and the McKinneys had been riding. They were well and truly set afoot.

  That was one of the worst things that could happen to a man.

  “Come on down,” Luke called to the others. “All the horses are gone.”

  McKinney and the two youngsters joined him near the remains of the fire.