by J. T. Edson
‘Talbot and one more, they’re in the front.’
Waco handed Keith his rifle and checked over his Colts. Red and Doc were watching him and Molly took the key Mary Anne relieved Della of. ‘This’s the key to the back door. Rusty gave it to me.’
‘Give me your hat, boy,’ Red ordered. ‘I’ll move out so he can see it and keep them watching the front. You go around the back. We’ll give you five minutes.’
Waco handed Red his stetson and Red laid his own on the sidewalk and pulled the black hat on. He stepped forward and Waco called, ‘I’ll give you five minutes, Brarsand, then I’m coming in after you.’
Saying this he turned and moved back, then bending low so that he could not be seen he darted across the street and between the two buildings. There were no windows on the bar side here and only one door which Waco guessed would be locked. He wondered where Brarsand’s two remaining men were. One would be upstairs most likely, probably on this side and covering the street. By hugging the wall Waco should be able to keep out of sight. He reached the end of the building and moved along keeping flat. The back room was empty except for a man who lay still on the floor. Waco saw that through the broken window as he went by to the door. He inserted the key, standing to one side and turning it slowly. The gun came into his right hand as the lock clicked and he gently eased the door open. There was no sound from the room, no shot, no alarm. Drawing his second gun Waco went in fast but in silence and halted just inside with guns ready.
The man on the floor was dead, shot by a heavy rifle. Waco turned and waved back the men who came from the houses behind the saloon and ran forward to help him. This was a personal matter now. Brarsand was the man who killed Sunshine Sam Catlan and tried to ruin the S.S.C. or scare Mary Anne from her home. Brarsand was Waco’s meat, the man he’d ridden from the O.D. Connected to find.
Crossing the room on silent feet Waco holstered his left hand gun once more and gripped the knob of the door leading into the bar-room. This was the time of danger. If the door was locked he would be forced to kick it open and alert them, but it would do no good to hesitate now. He twisted the knob and pushed the door slowly.
Brarsand was standing with his back to Waco, looking at the batwing doors and lining his revolver ready to shoot down the first man through. Waco was about to lunge forward when he saw the bar mirror’s reflected view of the room. Apart from a man who lay by a broken window he could see no one. The stairs leading to the first floor and the balcony were deserted, yet at least one man should be there.
It was then Waco detected a movement, caught it reflected in the mirror. Talbot was crouching behind the bar, ten-gauge shotgun in his hands, ready to turn loose the murderous charge when the batwing doors burst open. Then Waco saw the black hat moving, accompanied by another, white hat. Red and Doc were moving in and he must take a hand.
‘Brarsand!’
Waco yelled the word and flung himself forward. The big man started to turn, his gun coming up. Waco’s right-hand Colt crashed, throwing lead into the bar, shooting as fast as he could thumb the hammer. There was a roar from the shotgun as Talbot stiffened up into view then went down again.
Brarsand came round. He was fast but not fast enough. The revolver in his hand roared, flame licking at Waco as the young man flung himself to one side. Even as he went down Waco was shooting, his left-hand Colt thundering. Brarsand rocked on his heels, his gun crashed once more tearing a furrow in the floor by Waco, then the youngster rolled right over and fired as he landed on his stomach. A hole appeared between Brarsand’s eyes, the big man going backwards, his gun flying from his hand. The thud of his body hitting the floor was echoed by the crash as Red and Doc burst through the batwing doors.
A man came into view, leaping from a side room to the balcony at the head of the stairs, his gun slanting down. Doc Leroy brought up his Colt fast, firing almost without aiming it seemed. The man was flung backwards by the impact of the shot. He crashed into the wall and slid down, the gun dropping from his hand.
Silence fell and the smoke of the burnt powder slowly dispersed. Waco got to his feet, walking to the man who’d killed his adopted father. He bent down and picked up the revolver, noting the awkward-looking butt and the cylinder which was slightly shorter than that of a Colt. He turned to hand the gun to Red. ‘Take this for Ole Devil. He doesn’t have a Webley R.I.C. in his collection.’
‘He’s the one, is he?’ Red asked.
‘Sure’s he’s the one. We’ll let Ed Ballinger know we got the man who killed Doc Pilsener.’
‘How about you, boy?’ Doc inquired, for their business here was done now and the O.D. Connected might need them again.
‘Reckon old Rusty gal can handle things here herself. Her and Larry between them,’ Waco replied and grinned. ‘Sure be good to see Dusty, Mark and Lon again.’
The three young men walked towards the door of the saloon as men came crowding in. Waco stepped out and looked to where Larry Beaumont was talking to Mary Anne and hanging a blanket around her shoulders. The youngster smiled; Mary Anne would be all right. She wouldn’t need him here now. He’d paid his debt to Sunshine Sam Catlan.
THE END
THE COLT AND THE SABRE by J. T. EDSON
The Confederate Army needed arms. They knew where the arms were to be had, but payment in gold was necessary and gold was short in the South.
Belle Boyd, beautiful Confederate spy, knew how to get the gold but needed help if her plan was to succeed.
Fate threw her in with a certain captain in the Texas Light Cavalry — a young man who was already spoken of in the same breath as the legendary leaders of the South.
His name was Dusty Fog.
0 552 08017 9—45p
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Scanned and proofed by Amigo da Onça
v. 1.0 – 27/04/2017
