Bullets Don't Die

by J. A. Johnstone

  Fair enough, he supposed. As he looked at her, sultry and beautiful in the soft lamplight, the thought of kissing her certainly crossed his mind . . .

  And then abruptly disappeared as gunshots from somewhere in Chalk Butte suddenly ripped through the night.

  Chapter 26

  Holly turned and plunged toward the door. The Kid’s hand shot out and gripped her arm, stopping her.

  “Let me go!” she cried. “There’s trouble out there!”

  “And if you jerk that door open with the light still burning in here, you’ll be a perfect target.”

  She muttered something under her breath, then said, “You’re right.” She turned back to the desk, leaned over, and blew out the lamp. Darkness engulfed the office.

  The first flurry of shots had stopped, but then several more blasted, more sporadically paced.

  Holly drew her gun as she pulled the door open and stepped out into the night. The Kid was right behind her, also with his Colt in his hand.

  Muzzle flame stabbed redly from the darkness of an alley mouth diagonally across the street. Bullets whipped past The Kid and Holly and pinged against the stone wall behind them.

  There was no cover out there, so The Kid looped his free arm around Holly’s waist and hurled them backward through the door. He snapped a couple of shots at the alley as they fell through the opening. More bullets whined through the air above them.

  The Kid rolled to the side and kicked the door closed. Bullets smacked into it but didn’t penetrate the thick wood.

  “Let . . . go . . . of me!” Holly panted. “What are you doing?”

  “Saving your life,” The Kid said as he let go of her.

  He surged to his feet and went to one of the windows just as a bullet shattered it, spraying glass across the room. He recalled the windows were equipped with heavy shutters on the inside, and slammed them shut. Holly put her anger aside long enough to do the same at the other window.

  “Is there a back door?” The Kid asked.

  “Yes. I’ll bar it.”

  “Good idea.”

  She was much more familiar with the office than he was, of course, and didn’t need light to find her way around. He heard her cross the room and a moment later a thunk! sounded as the bar dropped in place to fasten the rear door.

  The Kid pulled one of the shutters back slightly to make a narrow gap through which he could look. The bushwhackers across the street had stopped shooting. He figured they were in that alley to open fire on anyone who left the marshal’s office.

  “It sounds like the whole town’s under attack,” Holly said as she opened a shutter on the other window a crack. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “I’ve got a hunch it has to do with that hombre who was giving us the skunk eye in the general store this afternoon.”

  “Some old enemy of Marshal Tate’s? He must have brought a blasted army with him, from the sound of it!”

  That comment stirred something in The Kid’s memory. He didn’t know if what he was thinking was possible or not, but he realized he couldn’t rule it out.

  “What’s your father going to do when he hears all that shooting?”

  “What do you think he’s going to do?” Holly snapped. “He’ll come to see what it’s all about. He’ll do whatever he can to protect the citizens.”

  The Kid knew she was right. Porter wouldn’t want to put Jared Tate in harm’s way, but his duty to the people of Chalk Butte would come first. Porter might tell Tate to stay put at the house, but it was also possible he would take the old lawman with him while he investigated the shooting.

  In a fight like this, having Tate around might even come in handy. Danger seemed to bring out the best in him and prod his brain into working more like it once had.

  “Will he try to make it here to the jail?” The Kid asked.

  “He might. He knows that’s where we were headed, and he’ll want to know that I’m safe.”

  “This place is pretty sturdy. Meant to be easy to defend.”

  “We can’t just sit tight!” Holly said. “Papa’s out there somewhere. I need to go help him.”

  “Why don’t you hole up here, and I’ll slip out the back and see if I can find out what’s going on? You can close and bar the door again behind me as soon as I’m out.”

  “I know my way around this town a lot better than you do, blast it! I’m the one who ought to be going out there.”

  “Yeah, but I’ve had more experience fighting killers,” The Kid said bluntly.

  “How do you know that?”

  The Kid thought about all the pitched battles he had taken part in over the past few years. “Take my word for it. Somebody’s got to hold down the fort here, in case your father and Marshal Tate show up, and you’re the best one for the job.”

  “All right, go on,” she snapped. “But if you get yourself shot to pieces, don’t expect me to weep over your bloody corpse!”

  “You wouldn’t even shed a single tear?” The Kid asked, smiling in the darkness.

  “Go on before I change my mind, damn it.”

  They closed and fastened the shutters again, then retreated to the back room where the rear door was located. For all The Kid knew, he’d be stepping into another ambush, but he had to risk it. They needed to know what the situation was so they could plan a counterattack.

  Working by feel, he drew the bar from its brackets and set it aside.

  “Bar the door again as soon as I’m out,” he whispered to Holly. “And don’t open it unless you’re absolutely sure who’s on the other side.”

  “I’m not a complete fool, you know. I’ve been a deputy for several years. I’ve handled my share of trouble.”

  Not any like this, The Kid thought. “All right. I’ll see you later.”

  “Be careful, Kid.”

  “I intend to.”

  If it hadn’t been pitch-dark in the hallway, he might have bent over and planted a quick kiss on her forehead. As it was, he’d probably miss, and that would be awkward.

  He opened the door slightly and slid into the alley behind the jail with his Colt gripped tightly in his hand.

  No shots rang out as the door closed behind him. He heard the bar drop back in its brackets and felt a little better. Holly wasn’t safe, by any means—he had a hunch nobody in Chalk Butte was truly safe at that moment—but she had a better chance with those stone walls and thick doors between her and the raiders, whoever they were.

  The Kid moved along the rear wall of the jail until he reached the corner. Instinct made him pause there, and a second later, when he heard the faint scrape of boot leather against the ground, he understood why. Even though he hadn’t been consciously aware of it, he had known someone was skulking around in the thick shadows next to the building.

  He pressed himself against the wall and waited, breathing so shallowly it couldn’t be heard more than an inch or two away. A few feet away, a deeper patch of darkness shifted. The Kid’s keen eyes gradually made out the shapes of two men working stealthily toward him.

  They stopped, and for a second he thought they might have spotted him, but then he heard a whisper.

  “There’s nobody back here.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” the second man whispered in return. “The boss said to watch the door and if anybody tries to sneak out, ventilate ’em.”

  “What if it’s the hombre he’s after? He’ll be mighty upset if somebody else kills him.”

  “Yeah, but the main thing is, he don’t want the old coot to get away, no matter who winds up killin’ him.”

  The Kid’s hunch was right. The men were after Marshal Jared Tate. The old lawman must have been one hell of a fine lawman to make so many enemies among the outlaw breed, The Kid thought.

  “I’ll take one side of the door, you take the other,” one of the men suggested. “If anybody comes out, we’ll have him in a crossfire.”

  “Just be careful we don’t shoot each other.”

  That drew a grim
chuckle from the first man as he stepped past The Kid, no more than two feet away.

  The outlaw had no idea how close he was to death.

  The Kid remained motionless until the two men were in position flanking the jail’s rear door. Then he made his move, coming up behind the closest one, looping an arm around the man’s neck, and jerking back to stifle any outcry as he pressed the barrel of his Colt into the man’s side.

  “Ssst!” the other outlaw hissed. “Davey, you say something?”

  The Kid pressed down hard, cutting off the man’s air. The man didn’t dare struggle with that gun in his side, and after a moment he slumped in The Kid’s grip as he passed out.

  The Kid let go of him, allowing him to fall to the ground with a soft thud. Hearing it, the other outlaw leaped forward, raising his voice a little as he whispered urgently, “Davey!”

  The Kid pressed the muzzle of his Colt against the outlaw’s forehead. “Davey can’t hear you.”

  With a startled gasp, the man jerked back involuntarily, raising his gun slightly.

  The Kid leaped forward and slashed with his revolver, feeling the barrel strike yielding flesh. He chopped down again, and the gun landed with the solid thud of metal against bone. The outlaw fell to his knees and pitched forward.

  The Kid reversed his Colt and used the butt to rap on the back door of the jail. He gave Holly a moment to get there. She didn’t say anything, and he gave her credit for being cautious. Hoping she was there to hear him, he said, “Holly, it’s me, Kid Morgan. Open up. I’ve got a couple prisoners.”

  “Kid?” The whisper came through the tiny crack around the door. “How do I know they don’t have a gun on you?”

  “Because I’d let them shoot me before I’d betray you,” he answered honestly.

  That satisfied her. The bar scraped in its brackets, and then the door swung inward. Holly stepped, into the doorway, gun in hand.

  “Cover me,” The Kid told her as he bent to grasp the collar of one of the unconscious outlaws. He dragged the man inside and, working by feel, put him in a cell. It took him only a moment to haul the other man inside, then Holly closed and barred the door.

  The Kid dumped the second man inside the same cell and made sure neither of the prisoners had any more guns or knives, then slammed the cell door. “Bring the lamp,” he told Holly.

  She came back with it and lit it.

  The yellow glow revealed the hard, beard-stubbled faces of the two raiders. One of them had an ugly gash on his face where The Kid’s gun sight had raked him. Both men were beginning to stir.

  “Whoever the boss of this gang is, he sent these two to watch the back door,” The Kid explained. “They didn’t get here quite soon enough. I was able to jump them.”

  “That’s pretty good work, taking them both without firing a shot,” Holly said as she glanced at The Kid with a new level of respect.

  He didn’t care about that. “Hold the light closer.” He drew his Colt again and pointed it at the two men. “Wake up, fellas, unless you’d rather die without seeing it coming.”

  The man The Kid had choked to unconsciousness groaned and rolled over. He lifted his head and shook it groggily, then raised it even more so he could look up at his captors.

  The Kid had never seen the man before, but was still convinced the attack on the town had something to do with the two men who’d been in the general store that afternoon. He eared back the hammer of his gun and aimed it at the man’s face. “You’d better talk, or I won’t have any reason to keep you alive. Who’s behind this? What does he want?”

  “Who . . . who are you, mister?” the outlaw mumbled.

  “Never mind that. Just answer the questions.”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” The man sneered. “Our boss will wipe out the whole town if he has to, to get what he wants.”

  “And that’s Marshal Jared Tate, isn’t it?”

  “Go to hell,” the man snapped. “I’m not talkin’.”

  “Well, then . . .” The Kid’s finger tightened on the trigger.

  He wasn’t really going to blow the man’s brains out, but obviously his bluff was convincing. Holly exclaimed, “Kid, wait! You can’t—”

  “Don’t shoot!” the outlaw said, his eyes wide with fear. “I don’t reckon it matters whether you know or not. There’s nothing you can do about it. The boss has got fifty townspeople rounded up and herded into the church, and he’ll kill all of them if he don’t get what he wants.”

  “And that is?” The Kid thought he already knew the answer, but the next moment his hunch was confirmed. Not by the prisoner inside the cell, however, but by a powerful shout from the street outside.

  “Tate! Marshal Jared Tate! I know you hear me! This is Brick Cantrell, and if you don’t come out and face me, the blood of this whole town will be on your head!”

  Chapter 27

  He had suspected he knew who was behind the attack on Chalk Butte, but hearing Brick Cantrell’s voice still came as a shock to The Kid.

  Not that he had ever heard Cantrell’s voice before, of course. The shock came more from having been told Cantrell was still in prison and believing that to be true. Whether he had escaped from custody or been released, in the end it didn’t matter.

  The only important thing was that Cantrell had hostages under the guns of him and his men, and was demanding vengeance on Marshal Jared Tate.

  The man inside the cell laughed. “Not so damned smart now, are you?”

  For a second The Kid thought about shooting him—just a nice flesh wound in the leg, maybe—but pushed that idea aside. He wasn’t going to descend to the same level as these vicious outlaws.

  “What are we going to do?” Holly asked tensely.

  “Come on.” The Kid led the way back out into the marshal’s office and closed the cell block door, plunging the cells back into darkness. When Holly set the lamp on the desk, he told her, “Blow that out again.”

  Once more shadows cloaked the office as Holly blew out the flame. Out in the street Cantrell shouted, “Tate! Did you hear me, old man? I’ll kill all those people! Men, women, and children, Tate!”

  “He’s crazy,” Holly whispered. “Pure loco.”

  “He’s had ten years in prison to get that way, if he wasn’t to start with,” The Kid said. “Where’s that church he mentioned?”

  “There are three in town. I don’t know which one he’s talking about. Do you think we can get to the hostages and free them?”

  “That’s what I had in mind. He thinks the back door here is covered. He doesn’t know we took care of the men he sent back there.”

  “So we can get out, and they won’t know we’re on the loose.”

  “Right. But the two of us can’t do much good against all of them unless we have some sort of plan.”

  “We need to find my father and Marshal Tate,” Holly said. “Or will the marshal surrender himself to Cantrell?”

  “I don’t think your father would let him do that, even if he wanted to.”

  “Neither do I,” Holly agreed. “We need to get out there. We can work our way back toward the house, and maybe we’ll meet Papa and Marshal Tate on the way.”

  The Kid thought about it for a second and then nodded, even though his companion couldn’t see him in the dark. “They’ll head for the jail, we’ll head for them. Sounds like it might work. But there’s something we need to do first. We can’t leave those prisoners able to yell and warn Cantrell.”

  “What are you going to do?” Holly asked. “We can’t just kill them in cold blood.”

  “Maybe not, but we can make sure they stay quiet.”

  They took the lamp into the cell block and lit it again. Both outlaws were conscious. The one with the blood-smeared face glared murderously at The Kid.

  “Tie him up and gag him,” The Kid told the other man.

  “What if I tell you to go to hell instead?” the outlaw responded with a sneer.

  “Then I just shoot you both and be
done with it.”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  The Kid shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. It would be quieter and attract less attention if I just cut your throats. Mighty efficient, too.”

  “Better do what he says,” Bloody Face advised. “I think he’s crazy enough to do it.”

  His partner gave in. He tore strips off his shirt and used them to bind Bloody Face’s wrists behind his back, then fashioned a gag with more scraps of cloth.

  Once that was done, The Kid said, “All right, come up here by the bars and turn around.”

  “You’re gonna knock me out, aren’t you?” the man asked with a sigh.

  “There’s still the throat-cutting option,” The Kid reminded him.

  The outlaw did as he was told. The Kid’s gun rose and fell, striking through the bars. The outlaw crumpled to the floor, out cold.

  Holly unlocked the door then. The Kid dragged the unconscious man into another cell and tied and gagged him. Separated like that, the two outlaws couldn’t try to free each other. Satisfied they had done all they could, Holly relocked the cell doors and she and The Kid left the cell block.

  At the back door, she blew out the lamp again.

  “I’ll go first,” The Kid said as he unbarred the rear door.

  “You know, you started giving orders mighty easy there,” Holly said. “I’m the peace officer here, not you.”

  “Didn’t mean to step on your toes. I was just doing what made sense.”

  “Oh, go ahead. If I don’t agree with something, I’ll let you know.”

  The Kid didn’t doubt that for a second.

  With guns drawn, they slipped into the alley and paused to listen intently. Out in the street, Cantrell shouted, “Tate! Where are you? I’m going to start shooting the townspeople, one by one, unless you show yourself !”

  “He won’t get away with this.” it was a promise The Kid intended to keep.

  There hadn’t been any shooting since Cantrell started trying to draw out Marshal Tate, but gunfire erupted again, somewhere a block or two away.