Vigilante Dawn

by Ralph Compton

  The person who came in hesitated before answering.

  Edgar winced. “Guess not. Whoever it is, I believe there’s one tub left. If you prefer a bit more solitude, I’d say we’re just about—”

  The first gunshot exploded through the room, taking Edgar by complete surprise. When the second gunshot blasted through his divider, the old man slid as far down into his tub as he could. Bringing his legs up, he felt a sharp pain jab through his lower body that shot straight down to his right foot. Edgar reached beneath the water, his hand brushing against jagged edges on one side of the tub.

  “Aw no,” Edgar groaned as he looked down to see the two holes that had been shot into the side of his tub. Water spilled out through openings that were only marginally plugged by the arm that had brushed against the other side. Ignoring the scraping of his elbow against the spots where metal had been bent inward by the passing bullet, he found a hole in his hip that leaked blood straight into the water.

  More shots tore through the room, sending water splashing from multiple damaged tubs. Something heavy hit the floor, followed by the frantic scrape of thrashing arms or legs. Not willing to lift himself high enough to climb out of the tub and feeling his strength drain out through his fresh wound, Edgar slouched down and called out, “I’m hit!”

  Nobody answered him.

  Chapter 15

  It was difficult for Edgar to determine how many people had heard the shots. Surely there were other guests in the hotel, but some could very well have been hiding in their rooms and keeping their heads down. If he’d been in any other spot when the shots were fired, Edgar would have been one of those people. For the moment, all he could do was hunker down in what remained of his hot, bloody water and listen as the steps that had come into the room slowly worked their way forward.

  Before long, Edgar became aware of another sound. It was closer than the footsteps. There was a slight rustle followed by the brush of something solid against the floorboards. Just as Edgar looked in the direction of the curtain separating him from the neighboring tub, that rustle grew into something much louder.

  Jack let out a raging cry as he leaped out of his stall. From what he could hear, Edgar assumed the bigger man had gotten ahold of whoever had done the shooting. That was confirmed when the divider blocking Edgar’s line of sight was knocked down by Jack’s falling body. Tripping over backward, Jack became entangled in the curtain, which led to him knocking one shoulder against Edgar’s tub. Now that the barrier was down, Edgar could see the man who’d barged in on them.

  He was a burly fellow with broad shoulders, a thick chest, and a solid frame. Built like a barrel with tree stumps for limbs, the gunman kept his face hidden behind a filthy blue bandanna. His eyes were wild as he raised the pistol in his hand, thumbed back the hammer, and prepared to punch a few holes into the man he’d just tossed aside like so much trash.

  Before the gunman could pull his trigger, Lem flew at him as if he’d been shot from a cannon. Both arms stretched in front of him, Lem collided with the gunman from one side to take him completely off guard. A smaller man would have been knocked down or completely overpowered by the attack, but the bulky fellow behind the mask merely staggered half a step to one side before shifting his weight to answer back. Lem dropped to the floor and scrambled to get his feet beneath him. The rustling Edgar had heard must have been from Lem’s stall, because he’d managed to pull on his jeans before making his move. When Lem straightened his knees, he pushed off with both legs to drive his shoulder into the gunman’s midsection.

  Once again, the gunman remained rooted to his spot. He tried to shove Lem back, but that proved to be difficult since Lem had dug both heels into the floor so he could stand his ground as well. Keeping as close to the gunman as possible, Lem pounded one fist after another into the bigger man’s ribs. After at least half a dozen blows, the gunman started to show signs of weakening.

  “You hurt, Jack?” Edgar asked.

  The mute ranch hand pulled free from most of the curtain, using some of it to wrap around his lower body. Still dazed after his rough landing, Jack shook his head to clear it and then shook it again to answer Edgar’s question.

  “I’m . . . Look out!”

  Jack followed Edgar’s line of sight to see what had startled the old man. The gunman was still struggling with Lem, but his pistol was now pointed toward Edgar’s stall. Lem also responded to the old man’s warning by grabbing the gunman’s elbow and shoving that arm upward. When the pistol barked again, it sent its round into the ceiling instead of through flesh and bone. After that, the gunman snarled like a bear and drove one knee straight into Lem’s belly.

  When Jack stood up again, he looked like something from an old painting of warriors who charged into battle wearing nothing but their clan’s colors wrapped around their waists. He also took hold of the gunman’s arm, but followed up by slamming a fist into that elbow. The gunman yelped in pain. Since one arm was still being held, he lashed out with the other. Unfortunately for Lem, that arm was closer to him and he caught a wild swing squarely upside his head.

  Lem hit the floor hard and sat there for a moment to collect his breath.

  Still hanging on to the gunman’s wrist, Jack did his best to keep the pistol elevated so no more shots could spill blood. He was a strong man, but the gunman was just a little stronger and the pistol slowly inched its way down.

  Edgar might have been hurting, but he knew he would be in much worse condition if he just sat in that tub and did nothing. He hadn’t brought a weapon into the bathroom, and there were none lying about. That left him with precious few options, so he climbed out of the leaking tub and grabbed the first thing he could find.

  Feeling he was being overpowered, Jack tightened his grip on the gunman’s arm, using both hands. The only sound he could make was a strained grunt as the gunman’s thickly muscled arm pressed ever downward. A few more seconds was all it would take for that gun to have a real target, so Jack did the only thing he could and sank his teeth into the gunman’s forearm.

  “Son of a bitch!” the gunman hollered. All his muscle or not, there was only so much he could take before he was forced to relax his grip and let the pistol fall. Inches away from hitting the floor, the gun was caught by Lem’s outstretched hand.

  There wasn’t much time for Lem to steady himself before the big gunman recovered from being bitten. A split second before catching a large boot to the ribs, Lem pulled his trigger to fire a shot up at the gunman. The bearlike man reeled back, clutching his face and hollering with rage. When he lowered his hands, he revealed a long, bloody gash that had been opened from his chin all the way up one cheek. Like any wounded animal, he became twice the threat he’d been a few moments ago. Lem tried to put him down but quickly realized the pistol in his hand was empty.

  Jack’s grip wasn’t even close to strong enough to keep the gunman from drawing his arm back and lashing out with a vicious backhand. The impact of fist against face was loud enough to echo through the room as Jack staggered back. His eyes were vacant as he dropped onto the curtain trailing behind him.

  Still enraged, the gunman tore the bandanna the rest of the way from his face and reached for another pistol that was kept tucked under his belt. Before he could get to it, Edgar lunged forward with the jar of bath salts he’d grabbed and tossed every last one of the scented granules into the gunman’s face. As soon as all that salt hit the fresh, open wound, the gunman’s voice shifted from an angry roar to a higher-pitched wail. All the rage that had been etched into his face was washed away and the only thing he wanted to do was run away.

  Sitting on the floor with an empty pistol in his hand, Lem wasn’t about to get in the bigger man’s way. He quickly scooted to one side before he was trampled under those pounding boots.

  At that moment, Jarrett appeared in the doorway, gun in hand and ready for a fight. There was no possible way he could have fully br
aced himself for what was coming at him, however. To his credit, Jarrett did bring his weapon up a little more than halfway before he was knocked aside and slammed into the wall behind him.

  The gunman charged into the hall, bounced blindly off the wall less than a foot away from where Jarrett had hit a moment before, and paused to look around. While he might have gotten a peek at his surroundings, the gunman also got salt into his eyes, which only made him madder. He stormed for the stairs, broke a piece from the top of the banister, and thumped noisily all the way down to the ground floor. By some miracle, he managed to bounce off the walls to keep from falling down the staircase. “Out of my way!” he shouted to some unlucky soul who must have been standing too close to the front door.

  There was one final crash as the front door was slammed against the wall, which allowed the gunman to get outside. After that, the hotel was much quieter.

  Edgar set the empty jar down and looked over at Lem. “You all right?” he asked.

  Lem pulled himself up to all fours and then to one knee. “Yeah,” he said while rubbing a spot on his head. “Least, I think so.”

  “What about you, Jack? Can you stand?”

  The younger man’s hand was still tangled up in the curtain that was wrapped around his lower half. After failing in one attempt to get up on his own, he reached out to take the hand Edgar offered him. Try as he might, Edgar was unable to pull Jack up before the other man’s hand slipped through his wet fingers. Jack landed on his backside and looked at Edgar with a vaguely disgusted expression.

  Edgar looked down to find that he was stark naked and standing there for the world to see. His larger concern was the messy bullet wound in his right hip. Upon seeing the wound, he felt his stomach churn and his head start to spin. “Uh-oh,” he groaned. “I think I’m about to . . .” He started to keel over but was caught by a pair of hands from behind him.

  “Easy there, old-timer,” Lem said. “Let’s get you off your feet.”

  Grunting as he pulled himself up, Jarrett staggered into the room and asked, “What on earth happened? Who was that? I feel like I been rolled over by a steam engine!”

  “We know barely more than you do,” Lem said. “We were just washing up when that beast charged in here.”

  “What did he want?”

  “Yeah,” Edgar said. “What did he want, Lem?”

  Lowering Edgar to the floor beside the old man’s pile of clothes, Lem straightened up and worked his jaw back and forth. “How should I know?”

  Edgar’s next breath was stolen from him by a jolting pain from his wound. The more he tried to shift his weight to get dressed, the paler he became. By the time Jarrett made it over to him, he was almost too wobbly to remain upright.

  “Here,” Jarrett said. “Let me help you pull some clothes on.” Drawing in a few quick breaths through his nose, Jarrett looked down at the old man with even more confusion. “What the hell is that smell? Lavender?”

  Chapter 16

  The hotel’s clerk and owner were both commiserating on the third floor as Edgar, Jack, Lem, and Jarrett all gathered in Edgar’s room. Since Edgar was also staying on the third floor, they could hear the clerk and owner bad-mouth them as well as the gunman who’d started the fight that had done so much damage to their bathroom.

  “That looks like a nasty wound,” Jarrett said as he examined the old man’s hip. “We’re gonna have to get you to the doctor.”

  “No!” Edgar said as he lowered himself onto a chair. “He’ll just want to take my leg. I’ll take my chances with gangrene.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Lem said.

  “So you think we should just put him to bed?” Jarrett asked.

  “No. I say we take him to the doctor. That wound isn’t bad enough for anyone to want to saw anything off him. If the doctor in this town is that incompetent, he’ll need to get by me to get to him.” Looking to Edgar, Lem asked, “Happy?”

  “Yes,” Edgar replied. “I suppose I am.”

  When the old man tried to stand back up, Jack came forward to help him. Edgar’s first instinct was to angrily push away the other man, but Jack was barely moved by that and came at him again.

  “Let us help you,” Jarrett said as he circled around to Edgar’s other side.

  “I managed to move about on my own during that fight,” Edgar groused, “and I can do so again.”

  Lem stood at the open doorway. “That was when the blood was pounding through your veins like a stampede,” he said. “A man can do a lot more at a time like that than he can under regular circumstances. You really want to walk down three flights of stairs and all the way to the doctor’s office on that leg?”

  Grudgingly, Edgar said, “No!”

  Between Jarrett and Jack, Edgar was moved from his room and down the stairs. Lem disappeared somewhere along the way, only to reappear again fully dressed and wearing his gun belt. All four of them shuffled past the front desk. The few others they passed were too shaken by the attack to try to stand in their way.

  “This is all your fault, you know,” Edgar grunted.

  “Whose fault?” Jarrett asked.

  Glaring in Lem’s direction, the old man said, “Who do you think?”

  Walking beside them, Lem recoiled and said, “Me? Why is this my fault?”

  “Because if you hadn’t been so concerned with getting your damn pants on instead of attacking that bastard right away, the whole fight would have been much shorter!”

  Jarrett had to turn his head before the cranky old-timer caught sight of the grin making its way onto his face.

  They all went outside and nearly walked into the two lawmen who were on their way in.

  “Well, now,” Sheriff Rubin said. “Look who we have here. Any bit of trouble that comes along, there you men are.”

  “If the trouble you mean is my life getting burned down,” Jarrett said, “then I suppose you’re right. Is it against the law to be shot at too many times in one week?”

  Rubin held his hands up in a placating gesture. “I spoke out of turn there, Mr. Pekoe. Sorry about that. What’s happened this time?”

  “Some big fella came in shooting, that’s what!” Edgar said. “We was all taking our baths when it happened and he just came right in!”

  The other man with Sheriff Rubin was his deputy, Tom. Smirking, the deputy said, “Taking your baths, huh? Were you scrubbing each other’s backs?”

  “Not in the same tub, you idiot! Aw, what the hell do you care?” Edgar groused. “You ain’t interested in catching him anyway.”

  “You wanna tell us who he was?” Rubin asked. “Which way he went? Anything to let us know where to look for him?”

  The four battered men continued shuffling along as the lawmen followed.

  “Didn’t think so,” Tom grunted.

  “Tom, go have a word with the folks in that hotel,” Rubin said. “See what they have to say about it. I’ll help with this bunch here.”

  “Don’t bother with us,” Jarrett said. “We can take Edgar to the doctor just fine on our own.”

  “You sure?” Rubin asked.

  “I think the three of us can drag one old man down a street,” Lem replied.

  “All right, then,” Rubin said with a shrug. “I’ll go and see what there is to see at that hotel.”

  Rubin and Tom moseyed off, heading in the general direction of the nearby hotel. After they were several yards away, Edgar grumbled, “That pair was almost as useful as tits on a bull.”

  “No argument here,” Jarrett said.

  “You certain you want to ride with the likes of them?”

  “They carry badges,” Jarrett said. “All they need to do is get close to those rustlers and make it nice and legal for us to put them down.”

  “What happened to bringing them to justice?” Edgar asked.

  “Six of
one, half a dozen of the other.”

  After walking a few more steps, Lem asked, “You need any help pulling this one along?”

  “You’ll need help pulling my boot out of your rump if you keep talkin’ about me like that,” Edgar said.

  “No,” Jarrett said. “I think this is just a two-man job. Why?”

  “Those two clowns will barely find the room where them shots were fired,” Lem said. “I’ll see if I can point them in the right direction.”

  The only responses to that were a shrug from Jack and an annoyed gesture from Edgar. That seemed to be enough for Lem, so he veered off from the rest of the group and made his way back to the hotel.

  The remaining three were within sight of the doctor’s office when Edgar spoke up again. “What’s got you so intrigued?” he asked.

  “Huh?”

  “You been looking over your shoulder ever since Lem decided to get himself some sleep.”

  “You think that’s what he’s doing?” Jarrett asked.

  “Sure. You really think he’s concerned about what them fools in badges are doing?”

  “I’m curious to see what Sheriff Rubin will say to him. For that matter, I wouldn’t mind seeing how Lem takes to getting any lip from that deputy.”

  When he heard that, Jack made a huffing sound that was as close as he could get to a laugh.

  “Oh, you like that, do you?” Edgar snapped.

  Jack nodded.

  “If I promise to let you know what happens,” Jarrett said, “would you mind if I go have a look?”

  “Don’t be foolish,” Edgar replied. “There’s already enough of that sort of thing going around.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  Jack smirked and used his free hand to motion for Jarrett to go on ahead. He then shifted Edgar’s weight so he could carry the old man without any help.

  “Looks like you’re in good hands,” Jarrett said. “Good luck with that doctor. He’s a real beaut.”