The Last Gunfighter

by William W. Johnstone

  As long as the men weren’t threatening Nancy, he could afford to wait, so that was what he did. A half hour went by. The sun began to grow warm as it rose higher in the sky. Here on the edge of the timber, Frank could actually feel its rays.

  Movement caught his eye, and he lifted his head to see a man riding out of the trees on the far side of the clearing, heading toward the cabin. Right away, Frank recognized the newcomer as Jack Grimshaw. Anger surged up inside him. Jack had always taken the easy way out, and now that tendency had put them on opposite sides, so that Frank might easily wind up having to kill him.

  Or maybe Jack would kill him, Frank mused. Grimshaw was a tough man, a good man with a gun. He had never been anywhere near as fast on the draw as Frank, but in a gunfight, you never could tell for sure what was going to happen.

  The other men saw Grimshaw coming, and gathered around Nancy Chamberlain to wait for him. As Grimshaw rode up and brought his horse to a stop, one of the men asked, “Well, what’s it gonna be?”

  “The girl said her horse was over in the trees,” Grimshaw replied. “Somebody go and find it. She’ll need a mount. We’re takin’ her back to her father’s mansion.”

  The square-faced man said, “Why the hell are we doin’ that?”

  “Those are the boss’s orders,” Grimshaw said. “He’s gonna meet us there.”

  The glance he shot at Nancy Chamberlain told Frank that there was more to it than that, however. Bosworth wouldn’t be returning Nancy to her father without something else in mind, some sort of double cross. Maybe he intended to hold her hostage until Chamberlain agreed to give up this stretch of prime timber.

  But if that were the case, then Bosworth couldn’t afford to let any of the witnesses live afterward. Frank’s eyes narrowed as he thought about that. This was the showdown, he realized. Bosworth’s finishing stroke that would wipe out his competition once and for all.

  And it was up to Frank to prevent it.

  He slid back away from the edge of the ridge as down below the group of gunmen got ready to ride. He had to get to Chamberlain’s mansion to stop whatever Bosworth had planned. It would be easier, though, if he had some help. If he could get Wilcox and the other loggers, maybe some more men from Chamberlain’s crews, and reach the bizarre redwood mansion before Bosworth had time to launch his scheme, he might still be able to save Nancy and ruin Bosworth’s plans. When he was well out of sight of Grimshaw and the other killers, he stood up and jogged toward the spot where he had left Stormy and Goldy. Dog was at his side.

  The big cur stopped suddenly and growled. Frank tensed and looked around. Ben Chamberlain was still roaming around out here somewhere, he reminded himself, and in Ben’s current state, there was no telling what he might do.

  But it wasn’t Ben who stepped out from behind three of the massive trees and leveled rifles at Frank, though. It was Erickson and his two monster-hunting partners. Erickson said, “Hold it, Morgan! Make a move and we’ll fill you full of lead!”

  Then he grinned and added, “Of course, it don’t really matter—because we’re gonna kill you anyway!”

  Chapter 26

  Frank stood absolutely still. They had him boxed in, covered from three angles. The Winchester was in his hands, with a bullet in the chamber. All he had to do was point it and pull the trigger. He knew he could get one of them before they ever got lead in him. He might even be able to drop two of them.

  But the third man would tag him. No doubt about that. Frank figured he would live long enough to kill that hombre, too. But he might not live to stop Bosworth from whatever he was planning to do to Nancy and her father.

  “Is this about that bounty on the Terror?” Frank asked. It might be a good idea to keep Erickson talking.

  “Damn right. With you out of the way, it’ll be twenty thousand dollars. That’s more money than I’ve ever seen in my life, Morgan.”

  Frank shook his head. “You’ll never collect a penny of it. Rutherford Chamberlain’s not going to pay off on his own son.”

  “His son?” Erickson repeated with a frown. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

  “The Terror. He’s really Ben Chamberlain.”

  “You’re crazy! The Terror’s some sort of monster!”

  “No, he’s not,” Frank insisted. “He’s just a young man who had something terrible happen to him. I don’t know what it was just yet, but I plan to find out.”

  Erickson shook his head. “You’re wastin’ your breath. I don’t believe a word of it.” The barrel of his rifle came up a little. “Say your prayers, Morgan—”

  Ben stepped out from behind the same tree where Erickson had been lying in wait for Frank. He reached out and closed his massive hands around Erickson’s head. Erickson started to scream, but it was choked off as Ben twisted hard.

  Frank was already moving, pivoting toward the man on his left. From the corner of his eye, he saw a fountain of blood and something flying through the air, something with long red hair attached to it, but then he saw only the target in front of his gun. The Winchester cracked, and the second gunman spun off his feet without getting a shot off as the slug drilled cleanly through his chest.

  The third man managed to fire a couple of frenzied shots before Dog flashed across the open space and crashed into him, knocking him over backward. The man had barely started to scream when the big cur’s fangs sank into his throat and ripped it open. Arms and legs spasmed as the man died.

  The fight had taken only seconds. Frank quickly checked the man he had shot and found that he was dead. There was no doubt about the other two. Ben had twisted Erickson’s head right off his body, and Dog had done for the third man.

  Ben sagged against a tree trunk. As Frank hurried over to him, the giant smiled and said, “Fraaaank.”

  “I don’t know where you came from, Ben, but I’m glad you got here when you did,” Frank said. “Were you hit by either of those shots?”

  “Hiiiit?”

  Carefully, Frank reached out. “Can I look under your coat?”

  Ben didn’t make any move to stop him. Frank pulled the crazy quilt of pelts back and saw fresh crimson welling from a black-rimmed hole in Ben’s shirt.

  “We need to get you some help, Ben,” Frank said. “I’m going to take you home.”

  Ben pulled back and started to shake his head.

  “Nancy’s there,” Frank went on. “I’m going to take you to see Nancy. You want that, don’t you?”

  “Nan…cy,” Ben rasped. “See…Nan…cy.”

  “Come with me then. Can you make it?”

  Ben pushed away from the tree and took a staggering step. “Maaaake…it.”

  There was no time now to find Wilcox and the other loggers, Frank thought. Grimshaw and the rest of Bosworth’s gunmen were on their way to the Chamberlain mansion. They had probably heard the shots, and that might speed them up even more. He would have to hope that Chamberlain’s men would be able to hold off any attack until he and Ben could get there.

  Frank didn’t think that Bosworth would order a direct attack, though, at least not at first. The man was too devious for that. He would probably offer to trade Nancy’s safety for Chamberlain signing over that timber lease to him. Once that happened, then Bosworth would pull his double cross. With a signed lease in his pocket, no one was safe from Bosworth.

  Stormy and Goldy started to shy away from Ben, but Frank stopped them with a word. He hated to ask Ben to run all the way to the mansion, but he didn’t have much choice.

  As he was swinging up into the saddle, though, he heard a crashing in the brush, and then Wilcox, Peterson, Trotter, and Neville burst out into the open, brandishing guns. They jerked the weapons up when they saw Ben, who let out a furious roar and spread his arms as if he were about to charge them.

  “Hold it!” Frank bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Put those guns down! Ben, stop! They won’t hurt you!”

  For a tense second, the loggers didn’t lower their weapons. Then Wilcox mo
tioned for the others to do as Frank said. “My God,” he said in a hollow voice. “I remember Old Man Chamberlain’s kid. That really is him, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Frank said. “Do you have that wagon with you?”

  Wilcox jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Back there about a hundred yards. We heard the shootin’ and came to see what it was about.”

  “Lead the way,” Frank ordered as he lifted the reins. “We have to get to the Chamberlain mansion as fast as we can, because there’s about to be a showdown there between him and Emmett Bosworth. And I reckon Bosworth has a trick or two up his sleeve.”

  “If we help you with this…critter…we get to fight Bosworth and his bunch?”

  “I’d say there’s a good chance of it.”

  Wilcox nodded. “Come on, boys, let’s get that wagon. It’s about time Bosworth got what’s comin’ to him.”

  “What about the Terror?” Neville asked.

  Frank said, “Leave him to me.” He turned to the huge, foul-smelling giant. “Ben, listen to me. These men are our friends. They won’t hurt you, and you don’t need to hurt them.”

  Ben didn’t look convinced. He waved a massive paw at the loggers and rumbled, “Cut down…treeees.”

  “I know, and you don’t like that.” Frank was starting to understand why Ben had attacked the loggers. To Ben’s twisted way of thinking, he was just trying to protect the trees from them. All the other men Ben had gone after had attacked him first. “Right now it can’t be helped. We have to save Nancy. She’s in danger.”

  “Nan…cy? Daaaanger?”

  Frank nodded. “That’s right. Are you with me, Ben?”

  Ben lifted both hands and curled them into fists the size of nail kegs. “Wiiiith…you,” he said. “Help…Nan…cy.”

  “That’s right,” Frank said.

  He just hoped they wouldn’t be too late.

  Grimshaw had seen the Chamberlain mansion from a distance before, but it was even more impressive up close. Impressive—or downright bizarre, take your pick, he thought. He couldn’t imagine living in such a crazy place.

  Chamberlain’s men must have seen them coming, because half a dozen of them rode out quickly to intercept the riders approaching the mansion. They were tough, hard-looking men, but they wouldn’t be any match for his bunch, Grimshaw told himself. For one thing, his men outnumbered Chamberlain’s men almost two to one.

  Bosworth was already here. Grimshaw recognized the fancy carriage parked in front of the mansion. That meant Chamberlain probably knew already that they had the girl. From the angry looks on the faces of Chamberlain’s men as they approached, Grimshaw knew that was true.

  He turned in the saddle and motioned for Radburn to bring Nancy up alongside him. Chamberlain’s men would be a lot less likely to start throwing lead around if Nancy was front and center where she’d be liable to get in the way of some of it.

  As the two groups of gunmen came to a halt facing each other, Grimshaw said, “We’re here to see your boss. But I reckon you already know that.”

  “Let Miss Chamberlain go,” one of the men said. “Then we’ll talk about what you want.”

  Grimshaw smiled thinly and shook his head. “It don’t work that way, and you know it. We got our orders, the same as you boys do. Move aside now, and let us ride on to the house.”

  “And if we don’t?” the leader of Chamberlain’s men challenged.

  “Then I’ll have to shoot you, Cobb,” one of the others said, and Grimshaw felt a surge of surprise when he saw that the man had slipped out his gun and fallen back a little, so that he could cover his companions from behind.

  “What the hell!” the man called Cobb exclaimed as he twisted around in his saddle. “Rockwell, you double-crosser! You’re workin’ for Bosworth?”

  Cobb didn’t wait for an answer. He clawed at the revolver on his hip. Rockwell fired, his gun spouting smoke and flame, and Cobb rocked to the side in his saddle as the bullet thudded into his barrel chest. Cursing, he pawed at his chest for a second before he toppled off the horse and crashed to the ground to lie motionless.

  The rest of Chamberlain’s men hadn’t moved except to stare in surprise at the one called Rockwell. Grimshaw drew his gun, and so did the rest of his men. “Drop ’em, boys,” Grimshaw ordered. “It’s over.”

  Chamberlain’s men knew they were in a bind. Carefully, they took their guns out and tossed them on the ground.

  “Now, we’re goin’ in,” Grimshaw said.

  With half a dozen prisoners now instead of just one, the hired killers moved on toward the mansion, reining in when they reached it. Grimshaw dismounted and said, “The rest of you boys stay out here and keep an eye on Chamberlain’s men. Miss Chamberlain, you come with me. You’re about to see your father again, I reckon.”

  Grimshaw wrapped his left hand around Nancy’s right arm and led her up the steps to the porch. A pale-faced butler must have been watching from inside. He opened the door before they reached it and said in a shaky voice, “Miss Nancy, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, Dennis,” she said, although she didn’t sound fine. She sounded scared to death, and with good reason, although she couldn’t know that yet.

  “Your father and…and Mr. Bosworth are waiting in the library,” said the butler.

  “Take us there,” Grimshaw snapped.

  The butler escorted them along the hall to the double doors that opened into the library. When they went inside, they stepped into an atmosphere of tension and hatred. Rutherford Chamberlain and Emmett Bosworth stood there, staring at each other, evidently at a standoff.

  Chamberlain turned sharply toward the newcomers. “Nancy!” he exclaimed. He started to rush toward her, but Bosworth stepped over so that he blocked the older man’s path.

  “Not yet, Chamberlain,” Bosworth said. “You can see for yourself that your daughter’s all right, but you know the deal. You don’t get her back until you sign that timber lease over to me.”

  Chamberlain glared at his rival. “You really think such a document will stand up in court, with a signature coerced on it that way?”

  “You let me worry about that.” Bosworth pointed to the desk, where a document was laid out. “You just sign that contract I brought with me.”

  “You’ll never get away with this!” Chamberlain looked at Nancy. “What were you doing out there wandering around alone in the woods anyway?”

  “I was looking for Ben,” she shot back with a flare of anger of her own. “You never would believe me, and I didn’t know if Mr. Morgan would ever find him, so I…I thought I’d take another look around, before you put out another of those damned bounties.”

  Chamberlain stared at her in disbelief. “Are you still clinging to that insane notion about the Terror being your brother—”

  “Actually, he is,” Grimshaw said. He wasn’t quite sure what prompted him to speak up, unless he was just too damned sick and tired of carrying around what he knew. “The Terror is your son, Chamberlain.”

  “How do you know?” Chamberlain demanded. “You’re nothing but one of Bosworth’s cheap gunmen!”

  “Not so cheap,” Grimshaw muttered. He went on. “I rode up to that cabin one day, not long after I’d come to these parts to work for Mr. Bosworth. I had another fella with me, named Macklin.”

  Bosworth said, “There’s no need to go into all this.”

  Grimshaw tightened his grip on Nancy’s arm. “I reckon there is,” he said. “I know you pay my wages, Mr. Bosworth, but I think these two deserve to know the truth after all this time.”

  And it wouldn’t matter anyway, Grimshaw thought, because in just a little while, Chamberlain and Nancy would both be dead.

  Nancy turned toward him and pleaded, “Tell me. I…I was afraid the Terror was Ben, but I could never be sure…”

  “He’s your brother, all right, miss. Macklin and I found him there at that cabin where he’d been stayin’. We were out scoutin’ around, lookin’ for some way to cause
trouble for your pa. When we met your brother and realized who he was, Macklin got the idea we ought to scare him a little. He thought that might convince your pa to sell out to our boss here.” Grimshaw shook his head. “But it didn’t work out that way. Things got out of hand. Macklin used to do a little rustling, so he had a runnin’ iron in his saddlebags. He heated it up and used it to singe some of your brother’s beard off and burn his face.”

  Nancy let out a sob as she listened to the story. Chamberlain stood there stony-faced.

  “Before that, your brother wouldn’t fight no matter what we did to prod him,” Grimshaw went on. “Even after Macklin burned him, he just wanted us to leave him alone. But then Macklin got into a trunk your brother had in the cabin and started tearin’ up the books he found there…and that set your brother off good and proper. He went wild. He jumped Macklin and, well, started tearin’ him apart. I took a shot at him and hit him in the head. I thought I’d killed him. I was so shook up, I lit out of there and didn’t even try to take Macklin’s body with me. I didn’t tell anybody what had happened except Mr. Bosworth, and he said we ought to just lie low for a while, see if anybody found out about it. I went back a week later. Macklin’s body was still there, what was left of it…but Ben Chamberlain was gone. I hadn’t killed him after all.”

  “My God, man,” Chamberlain breathed. “A head wound like that can do things to a man’s brain…”

  Grimshaw nodded. “I reckon it did, sure enough. Because after that, there wasn’t any Ben Chamberlain anymore. There was just the Terror.” He sighed. “I gathered up all of Macklin I could find and took the remains and buried ’em. Hadn’t been back to the place until today.”

  “All right,” Bosworth said harshly. “You’ve told your little story and gotten it all off your chest. Now stay out of it while Chamberlain and I finish our deal.” He pointed to the document on the desk again. “Sign it, Chamberlain, and we’ll get out of here and leave you and your daughter alone.”