by B. S. Dunn
Homesteaders scattered and prepared to fight, found cover and took up weapons.
Everyone except Kane. He stood out in the open and waited to see what would happen next. When the lone rider swung into view, the gunfighter breathed a sigh of relief.
The rider approached at a steady pace and as he drew near, Kane recognized him as Concho Bell.
Concho drew up short and pushed his hat back. ‘Howdy, Kane.’
Kane nodded. ‘Concho. I guess I don’t have to ask why you’re here.’
‘Guess not,’ he allowed. ‘Although I am surprised that you’re still alive. I thought I killed you the first time.’
‘That was you?’
‘Yeah.’
‘So here you are back to finish the job,’ Kane stated.
‘Mind if I climb down?’
‘Go ahead. Just keep your hand clear of that six-gun of yours.’
Concho dismounted and moved away from his horse, never once taking his eyes from Kane. When he considered he’d gone far enough, he planted his feet roughly shoulder width apart.
Kane knew the reputation of the man. He was considered by some throughout the vast state of Texas to be a viable challenger for the Gun King’s throne. It was one of the reasons that confused him as to why Concho had shot him from ambush.
‘Who hired you to bushwhack me Concho?’
The killer smiled coldly. ‘You know I ain’t goin’ to tell you that, Kane. It wouldn’t be professional, but bushwhackin’ you was my idea. Didn’t really want to take any chances goin’ up against you.’
‘So what changed?’
‘This time I have to make sure. This time, it’s about pride and reputation.’
For some, that’s what it was all about. Kane never wanted the reputation, but it had sought him out. Before long, he was being touted as the undisputed Gun King.
A wave of calm washed over him as it always did right before a gunfight. It was his way of making peace should he be killed.
‘Anytime you’re ready, Concho,’ Kane told him.
The smile left the killer’s face and a look of grim determination replaced it.
There was a long drawn-out silence, a pregnant pause that hung heavily in the air. The homesteaders held a collective breath and prayed that the man they wished to be their saviour would prevail.
When it was over, those who’d been a witness would swear that there’d been no movement of Kane’s gun arm. One moment it was hanging loose and the next, his hand held his Peacemaker at waist level as it roared into life.
Kane fired two shots, both of which struck Concho Bell full in the chest not two finger widths apart. His shirt blossomed red and he staggered backwards as he fought to remain on his feet. His gun barrel had just cleared leather and was still pointed at the ground.
Concho used every ounce of his waning strength to raise his six-gun, a snarl of defiance on his face. If he could just steady himself long enough. . . .
Instead, Kane’s Colt roared once more and a third eye appeared in Concho’s forehead. The bullet punched out the back of his skull and took bone and brain matter with it in a bright crimson spray.
The killer fell flat on his back beside his unfired six-gun.
Chapter 10
Hushed whispers followed Kane along the street as he led the horse with Concho Bell’s corpse draped over the saddle. A number of the townsfolk were still out on the street doing last-minute chores before the sun finally sank behind the Sangre de Cristo mountains when Kane hit town.
He rode up to the jail and dismounted. He tied Concho’s horse to the sturdy hitch rail and mounted back up.
‘What the hell is this?’ Jordan Kane asked his brother as he stepped out on to the boardwalk.
‘What does it look like, Jordy?’
Jordan studied the body from his position outside the door. Though he couldn’t see the dead man’s face he had a good idea who it was.
‘Is that Concho Bell?’
Kane nodded. ‘Yeah, it’s him.’
‘What’d you bring him here for?’
‘I thought that maybe you could tell your boss the next time he sends a gun after me, make sure he’s good enough to see it through.’
‘What makes you figure it was him?’ Jordan asked his brother.
‘Come on, Jordy,’ Kane snorted. ‘I ain’t stupid. He’s been behind everythin’ that’s happened so far.’
The younger Kane remained silent.
‘Tell me somethin’. Did you kill Brooks or did Lance have someone else do it?’
‘Does it matter, Lucas?’ Jordan asked. ‘Dead is dead no matter who does it.’
It pained Kane to see what his brother had become. In a way he blamed himself. Jordan had always looked up to him as a youngster and the pair were close. Now, given half the chance, Kane knew his brother would draw on him and try to kill him. Just for the title of being the best.
The gunfighter started to swing his horse away from the hitch rail when Jordan threw out the challenge. ‘We could settle this here and now, Lucas.’
Kane ignored him and rode off.
‘Are you scared, Lucas? Is that it?’
Looking straight ahead Kane said, ‘Nope, not scared. Just not ready to kill you yet, kid.’
Jordan Kane’s hand dropped to one of his Peacemakers as he fought to control the urge to shoot his brother out of the saddle.
‘One day soon, Lucas!’ he shouted after him. ‘One day soon!’
‘Yeah, Jordy,’ Kane mumbled to himself with recognition. ‘One day soon.’
As the gunfighter rode out of town, Brock Hamilton stood on the boardwalk and watched him leave. There was a faint smile on his lips. Maybe there was still a chance after all, he thought.
Jordan Kane’s horse thundered into the B-L connected ranch yard and almost sat down hard on its rump when his rider hauled furiously back on the reins.
Jordan left it ground hitched and stormed up the steps and across the veranda. He thrust one of the double doors open and it crashed back. He stomped along the marble floor and down the hallway until he found the room he wanted. He found Lance seated in his leather-backed chair. He drew his right side Colt, thumbed back the hammer and pointed it at the rancher.
Lance blanched noticeably but was not one to let his fear show for long.
‘What in tarnation do you think you’re doin’?’ he asked in a raised voice. ‘And put that damned gun up before you hurt someone.’
‘I warned you, Lance,’ Jordan said through gritted teeth. ‘I told you that Lucas was mine. Yet you hire another gun to go after him.’
‘You do what I pay you to do, damn it,’ Lance pointed out. ‘Nothin’ more.’
Jordan moved his aim so that the gaping maw of the barrel was centred on the rancher’s forehead. ‘I should just kill you now and be done with it.’
Twin hammers being thumbed back on a sawed off greener stayed the gunfighter’s finger.
‘If you don’t want your head spread all round this room I suggest you leather that Colt of yours,’ Chuck said calmly.
Jordan turned his head to look at the B-L connected foreman. The shotgun was pointed straight at his head.
‘Just so you know, Chuck,’ Jordan said casually, ‘I can turn and kill you before you even think about squeezin’ the trigger. Your choice.’
‘Son, I been around a long time and I’ve heard it all before,’ Chuck informed him. ‘So let me tell you. If you even draw breath the wrong way I’m goin’ to pull this trigger.’
Jordan looked into the foreman’s eyes and knew that this was a man who could not be bluffed. If he twitched the wrong way or at the wrong time, his brains would be splattered about the room. He smiled coldly and slipped the Colt back into its holster.
If Buford Lance felt any sort of relief, he didn’t show it. Instead, he asked brusquely, ‘What happened?’
‘Lucas turned up at the jail with Concho Bell face down over a saddle. He said to tell you that next time send somebody better.
’
‘And you just let him leave?’
‘I offered to settle it then and there,’ Jordan explained, ‘but he just rode off. Said he weren’t ready to kill me yet.’
‘Why didn’t you just shoot him and be done with it all?’ Lance snapped.
‘You wouldn’t understand, Lance,’ Jordan answered. ‘When it happens, I want everyone watching. I want there to be no doubt about who is the best.’
Lance shook his head. ‘Well, that don’t fix the problem we have now, does it?’
‘Let me handle it,’ the killer told him. ‘I’m goin’ to hire me some more guns. Professionals, this time, none of those tenth-rate wannabes.’
‘You’d best tell me what you have in mind then.’
Over the next five days, four gunmen rode into Buford and found their way out to the B-L connected ranch.
The first man was a gunfighter by the name of Johnny Marsh. He was rail thin and had red hair.
He was a professional gun out of Utah and was said to have killed seven men in stand-up fights.
The second man to arrive went by the name of Roscoe James. He was a cold-blooded killer with a mean temper and a livid scar on his cheek, who came out of Nebraska.
Marty Collins was a New Mexican gun-for-hire. He was a flashy type who dressed in a suit and wore a derby style hat.
The remaining man was Cassidy. He originated from Kansas and was a bear of a man with deceptively fast gun-speed. One look into his ice-blue eyes told enough about the sort of killer that he was.
It was said ten men had gone down before his gun. One of his more recent jobs was a small-town sheriff trying to put a stop to a range war. Not dissimilar to the one he’d just ridden into.
Jordan Kane had travelled with Cassidy out to the ranch and they all sat around whilst they were filled in on the requirements of the job.
‘How much are you payin’?’ Roscoe James asked.
‘I’ll pay you a thousand a man,’ Lance told them.
Marty Collins shook his head. ‘Nope. If I’m goin’ up against Lucas Kane, then I for one want more money.’
Lance was about to speak when Jordan interrupted.
‘You won’t be goin’ up against Lucas,’ he stated. ‘Lucas is my concern, not yours. You lot are here for the homesteaders.’
‘That’s a mighty tall order considerin’ that Lucas is camped out with ’em,’ Cassidy pointed out. ‘How do you expect us to do what you ask without tradin’ lead with him?’
‘I have a plan to get him out of the way,’ Jordan explained to them. ‘Once that has happened, then you’ll be free to do what you’ve been hired for.’
‘And what then?’ asked Marsh.
‘Then you’ll be paid and be free to go,’ Lance said abruptly.
‘OK,’ said Cassidy nodding. ‘But if any one of us goes up against Lucas Kane and kills him, they have a bonus comin’.’
‘I said. . . .’ Jordan snapped but Cassidy cut him off.
‘I heard you the first time, Jordan. But if it happens that we come up against him and you’re not around, don’t go expectin’ me to tuck my tail between my legs and run away.’
Jordan just glared at Cassidy.
‘Fine,’ said Lance. ‘If it happens, I’ll pay an extra thousand.’
The big gunfighter nodded. ‘Fair enough. Now, what is it we’re doin’?’
One hundred miles north of Buford, in a town called Perdition, Rio Smith sat at a dark timber table with a deeply scarred surface. He was working his way through a bottle of watered-down forty-rod and currently sat and toyed with the empty shot glass.
The scrape of chair legs on bare boards sounded and a young man aged in his early twenties sat down across from him. He was an up-and-coming fast-gun and called himself Utah.
‘Guess what?’
Rio looked at the young man and could see the excitement in his grey eyes.
‘What?’ he said disinterestedly.
‘I think I know where Cassidy lit out for.’
‘Where?’
‘Buford.’
Now he had Rio’s attention. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘Because there’s a range war goin’ on down there and Jordan Kane is involved.’
‘It don’t mean he’s goin’ to Buford,’ Rio pointed out.
‘You see that feller at the bar with the glasses?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, he’s the telegraphist feller in town here,’ Utah said excitedly. ‘And he said that a wire come for Cassidy and it was sent by Jordan Kane.’
Rio remained silent as he digested the information.
‘But that ain’t all, Rio,’ Utah explained. ‘Guess who else is down there?’
‘Lucas Kane,’ Rio answered, deflating the young Utah.
Rio sat the shot glass on the table top and stood up. He turned away and began to weave his way through the crowded saloon.
Utah jumped up to follow him.
‘Where you goin’, Rio?’ he called after him.
‘Buford.’
‘What for?’
‘To help a friend.’
Utah hurried after him. ‘Damn it, wait for me. I ain’t missin’ out on this.’
Chapter 11
‘There’s someone here to see you, Kane,’ Hughes announced.
Lucas Kane looked up from where he was washing in the clear waters of Cottonwood Creek. The large cottonwood trees branched out over the water course and their leaves let through a filtered light.
Walking towards him with Hughes was Brock Hamilton.
‘What’s up?’ asked Kane.
‘Hamilton here has some news about some new arrivals in town,’ Hughes explained. ‘Seems our fears were right. It’s been too quiet for too long and now Hamilton here has proof why.’
The gunfighter stood up and stretched out the kinks from where he’d been crouched over the edge of the creek.
He indicated a fallen log and said to the two men, ‘Take a seat and fill me in.’
Both men sat down on the rough barked seat and Kane sat on a rock at the water’s edge.
‘As Ernest said, there’s been some new arrivals in town. The last one rode in the day before yesterday,’ Hamilton explained. ‘Everyone in town has been talkin’ about it. That and your brother puttin’ pressure on the storekeepers not to sell anythin’ to the homesteaders.’
‘Who are they?’ Kane asked him. ‘Did anyone mention names?’
Hamilton thought for a moment as he tried to remember. Then they came to him. ‘A big feller someone mentioned, goes by the name of Cassidy. Do you know him?’
Kane nodded grimly. ‘Yeah. He’s good. Who else?’
‘There were four of them,’ Hamilton told Kane. ‘Johnny Marsh, Roscoe James were two more, the other one that I heard about was some fancy dresser. I don’t know his name.’
‘The first one who springs to mind is Marty Collins,’ Kane said thoughtfully. ‘He’s another good gun to have on your side. They’re all good. From the sounds of it, Lance is goin’ all out to put an end to this once and for all.’
A look of concern crept into Hughes’ face. ‘So this is it? It’s what we expected. A shootin’ war?’
‘It’s been a shootin’ war,’ Kane announced. ‘Now they’re gettin’ serious about it. This time they’ve hired actual gunfighters and not some wannabe amateurs.’
‘What do we do? How do we prepare?’ Hughes asked, panic adding an edge to his voice.
‘You can’t do any more than what you’re all doin’ now,’ the gunfighter explained. ‘Just remain vigilant. I told you this would come. That you would need to be prepared. Now that it has, you need to be strong. Lead your people from the front.’
‘What about you? You can lead us.’
Kane shook his head. ‘I’m just a fighter. You’re their leader. They respect you. They need someone to give them faith in what they’re doin’ and you’re it.’
‘I hope you are right, Kane,’ Hughes mumbled.
‘I know I am.’
Kane’s gaze drifted across to Hamilton. ‘How are you doin’ in town?’
‘We’re managing,’ Hamilton allowed. ‘Martha is doing some work with Ezra Stone and I’m doing bits here and there. It’s not a lot but hopefully, we’ll be able to get started on building our new house soon. Although, I’m worried about what will happen if Buford Lance succeeds with his plans.’
‘I think it will all be over soon,’ Kane speculated. ‘I have a feeling that the arrival of those new guns in town is the beginning of the end. We just don’t know how it will all play out yet. You’d best get on home, Brock. Thanks for the warnin’ about the extra guns. And one more thing, keep your family safe.’
Hamilton nodded. ‘I will. But you watch your back.’
Kane smiled mirthlessly. ‘Don’t worry about me. When my killer comes for me, it won’t be from behind.’
Martha Hamilton smiled warmly at her husband and daughter as they entered the doctor’s surgery.
‘To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?’ she asked.
‘We thought that seeing it was after dark, we would escort you back to the boarding house,’ her husband explained.
‘How sweet,’ she beamed and leaned in to kiss her husband on the cheek. Then she whispered, ‘Did you warn him?’
Hamilton waited for Martha to draw back then gave her a slight nod. ‘Yeah. I did.’
‘Did what, Daddy?’ Elsie asked.
Hamilton pulled a funny face at her and said in a hoarse voice, ‘Never you mind.’
His daughter giggled and instantly forgot the question she’d asked.
‘You’re funny,’ she cried out excitedly.
He scooped her up in his arms and looked at Martha. ‘Are you ready?’
‘Sure, I’ll get my shawl.’
Martha left the room and returned a short time later with her shawl wrapped around her shoulders. ‘Now I’m ready, let’s go.’
Hamilton put Elsie down and looped his arm so Martha could slip her arm through his.
‘You don’t want to let the doc know you’re leavin’?’ Hamilton asked.
