“Dang!” one of the deputies said. “We been spotted.”
“Well, go on then, boys,” the sheriff said. “Now that they know we’re here.” He shouldered his Winchester and started shooting at windows.
Emmett’s weapons were better suited for up-close work. He wanted to get to the barn, maybe twenty yards from the house.
“You coming with me?” he asked the nearer of the deputies.
The deputy clung to the ground. “Too hot for me just yet.”
“Bluebonnets won’t stop a bullet.”
“That’s OK. Them fellas’ aim don’t seem so good at this range. I’ll wait.”
Emmett paused only long enough for the sheriff and both deputies to reload and resume peppering the windows before he hopped up and ran a zigzag path toward the cowshed.
The Blaylocks’ aim proved better at closer range. Emmett’s stomach tightened and lightning flew down his spine when a couple of bullets whizzed by a hair too close.
He made it to the barn and stumbled inside. Now he had the Blaylocks’ back door covered. Nobody was going to get out without his permission—or a burst of buckshot.
The first cry from the house coincided with a report from the buffalo gun. Emmett figured Sikes had caught somebody lingering a breath too long in the front upstairs window. The moaning from inside the house died away quickly.
Emmett hoped Charlie Blaylock—down a man already—would go ahead and call it a night. He soon gave up on that notion. While the folks inside mostly held their fire, every now and then—almost certainly when the sheriff and his deputies were trying to advance on the house—they’d unleash a hot fusillade. Sheriff had been right. This was no picnic.
Next time they opened fire, Emmett sprayed a couple of windows with blasts from the twelve gauge. His angle on the openings wasn’t great. But he figured he’d let them know the law was closer at hand than they might have realized.
Even as dusk turned to dark, a full moon and clear skies made for pretty good visibility. After a fashion, a second cry came from within the house. Angry shouting followed.
“Well, get him the hell away from the window,” a voice yelled.
“You shut the hell up,” another shouted. “I’ll get him when things cool down a bit.”
Emmett decided to take advantage of their frazzling nerves. He’d rush the back door, both barrels blazing, if he had to. But if there was another way…
“Hey,” he called out from the barn. “Let’s end this dance early so nobody else gets hurt up there.”
No one answered—by word or by gunfire.
“Send out Charlie Blaylock, and we’ll leave the rest of you alone,” he shouted.
Everyone held their fire. Emmett could hear bumping and shuffling up in the homestead. Then all went quiet for a few moments.
All of a sudden, someone flung open the door on the far side of the house. It slammed against the front porch wall. There were hurried footfalls on the wood plank flooring. Both the buffalo rifle and a Winchester sounded, almost simultaneously. The footsteps stopped and a string of tumbling thuds followed.
“That’s three of yours down,” Emmett called out. “How long do you—”
“Shut up, lawman,” a voice from inside the house cut him off. “You’ll get yours when you try to come in and take Charlie.”
Somebody had tried to run for it. Somebody else seemed determined to stay and make the lawmen pay. So what would going in cost him?
Emmett looked around the barn for something of the right weight and size. He spotted a few horseshoes, picked one up, and returned to the barn door. Holding the coach gun with one hand, he tossed the horseshoe onto the back porch with the other. Instantly a shotgun boomed from inside, ripping a hole in the back door.
Blazes! Might cost a lot to go in.
The standoff dragged on. During the lulls Emmett wondered whether his brother would pull through. In his mind he saw Charlie Blaylock, pistol pointed at Eli. Heard the shot. Saw his brother on the ground, bleeding. He was tired of this game. It was time to break the stalemate.
The eastern sky had just barely begun to brighten when Emmett sensed someone outside, tight up against the wall, approaching the barn door. His pulsed quickened. Had he dozed off for a minute, just long enough for Charlie Blaylock to slip out of the house? He readied the coach gun.
“Emmett, it’s me,” came the whisper. “Sheriff Haywood.”
“Glad you said something,” Emmett murmured. He took a step back.
The sheriff slid in through the narrow opening. “Don’t know about you, but I’m ready to end this thing.”
Emmett nodded. “Been ready. Wanna send your deputies down to fetch Juanito and Sikes? We can kick in the door as soon as they get back.”
The sheriff wasted no time. With a quick, “Sure ’nough,” he slipped out of the barn again to set things in motion.
Emmett wanted to hurry for another reason. The sun would be coming up at his back. If they timed things right, they could hit the door with the glare of the rising sun behind them—directly in the eyes of the waiting Blaylocks. Might help a little.
But when the sun began to bathe the weathered gray backside of the Blaylock house in golden brilliance, Emmett was still alone. This was the critical moment. He squeezed the grips of the shotgun and stole a peek out the barn door. Where were the others?
Maybe five minutes later, cautious footfalls broke the silence along the north side of the barn.
“Loaded and ready, hermano,” Juanito said in a hoarse whisper. He was just outside and to the right.
“I’m bettin’ at least one of ’em will try to run,” the sheriff murmured from behind Juanito.
“Can’t let anybody run,” Emmett said. “Now let’s do this.”
His stomach knotted up on him; he knew that as soon as they heard his boots hit the porch, they’d likely send another blast of buckshot through the already shot-up back door.
To blazes with it! Drawing a deep breath, he led the charge.
A couple yards shy of the porch, he leveled his coach gun, unleashed one barrel, and took another nice-sized chunk out of the door. Didn’t need to kick it in now. It swung back from the force of the blast.
He rushed the doorway and pulled the other trigger. The second barrel roared. No sense waiting for them to reply. They’d had all night.
Only one of Blaylock’s people was in the kitchen—a bloody mess sprawled on the floor. Emmett broke his coach gun, popped out the spent shell casings, and inserted two more.
Juanito arrived at his elbow.
From the kitchen, Emmett saw that the front door was blocked open by a corpse. The fellow lay on his back in an awkward position, a big, dark hole in his chest.
“Throw down your weapons,” the sheriff roared from alongside Juanito. “All of you.”
The air smelled of gun smoke. All was quiet for a moment.
“You’re all shot up,” Emmett yelled. “Now call it quits.”
Again it was quiet.
Wood flooring creaked beyond the wall to the right.
“Bedroom,” the sheriff mouthed.
Emmett motioned for the whole bunch to ready their weapons. He was just about to squeeze off another shot when an old navy-model revolver came tumbling out onto the sitting room floor.
“OK, that’s good,” he said. “Anybody else wants to live oughta do the same thing. Right now.”
“Ain’t nobody else in here can shoot ’cept me,” said the voice. “And I just tossed you my gun.”
“Is that so?” the sheriff said. “Well, come on out. Show us you’re unarmed.”
The floorboards creaked again, and a black man—probably in his thirties—emerged from the side room into the doorway. He held his hands high, palms forward.
Emmett gestured for him to come into the kitchen.
The deputy looked to the sheriff. “No weapons.”
Emmett cocked his head as if to say, “Don’t lie to me now,” and asked, “Anybody else alive in here?”
“Last one can shoot—you got him right there,” the black man said, nodding to the fellow on the kitchen floor. “Mr. Cyrus is alive.” He pointed to the side room. “But he ain’t gonna be shootin’ nobody no time soon.”
With a Colt ready in each hand, Juanito pushed past everyone to the side door. “Like the man said, Cyrus won’t be shooting anyone soon.”
Emmett followed and saw that Cyrus lay propped up against the wall, half-conscious, bleeding from both arms.
“And Mr. Matthew’s upstairs. But he don’t look good either.”
The two deputies looked to Sheriff Haywood. With a raised thumb he sent them to check.
“What’s your name?” Emmett asked the black man.
“Timothy, sir. Timothy Frey. I’m just a hand around here. I ain’t got no special attachment to the Blaylock family.”
“Where’s Charlie Blaylock?” Emmett asked.
Cyrus Blaylock tried to say something. His face contorted. All that emerged was a moan followed by spasms of coughing.
“He’s gone, sir. Been gone since yesterday,” Frey said.
Emmett’s eyebrows shot up. What? “Are you telling me you all have been shooting at us all night—and taking shots from us—and all the while Charlie Blaylock hasn’t even been here?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“Aw, hell!” the sheriff said.
Emmett took in the blown-out windows, the holes in the walls, and—most troubling of all—the blood all over the place. All he could do was shake his head.
“I’s tryin’ not to shoot, but the other folks here was all tryin’ to keep y’all occupied so’s Mr. Charlie could make good his getaway.”
“Where’d Charlie Blaylock go, Timothy? Did anybody say?”
“Oh, we know where he’s headed, sir.” Timothy looked tired. “Mr. Charlie got a brother name Seth out in Nevada. Mr. Seth’s a rich man. Rich and powerful. Got him some of that silver money from Virginia City. That’s where Mr. Charlie’s gone.”
“And he’s got a fifteen-hour jump on us,” Emmett said.
More coughing erupted from Cyrus. He wheezed, “You black son-of-a—” Spasms of coughing gripped him again. “What do you think, Sheriff?” Emmett asked. “You think Timothy’s telling the truth? Or would Timothy lie to cover for Charlie Blaylock?”
“I think you’d better get a move on if you want to keep things simple. Catch Charlie Blaylock before he makes his way out of Texas. Me and my deputies, we’ll clean things up here.”
Emmett glanced at Juanito and Sikes. “Long as we’re this far behind, I’d like to check in on Eli.”
“And I’d like to take a quick look around outside,” Juanito said. “See if I can cut sign. Figure out which way Charlie Blaylock rode.”
Emmett asked Timothy, “Anybody happen to say exactly how he’d be traveling to Nevada?”
“No, sir,” Timothy answered. “He took his horse and left ’bout four o’clock yesterday. Headed north. That’s all I know.”
“North,” Emmett said. He rubbed his forehead. Even as he considered Charlie Blaylock’s travel options, he wondered whether his brother was still alive.
CHAPTER FOUR
Eli hadn’t made it through the night.
Emmett waited in the lobby of Austin’s Greentree Hotel while Elizabeth Lattimer went upstairs to get Nan. His mood was dark. Out at the Blaylock place, he hadn’t had much time to dwell on what his brother’s death would mean to him. And there had been hope that he might survive. But now, as far as this life went, it was all over for Eli.
Staring through the lace-curtained windows, he said to Juanito, “A few short years ago, who’d have ever figured I’d end up losing a wife and a brother to gunplay?”
When he turned, it looked as though Juanito was going to say something but then decided against it. He simply shook his head, then dropped his gaze.
“Nan’s not gonna take this well, but I can’t stay here,” Emmett said. “I’ll start thinking about Gabriela again, and between her and Eli, I fear I’ll slide into a despair I can’t climb out of.”
“Will running down Charlie Blaylock keep you from that kind of despair?” Juanito asked.
“Doing something—anything—has got to help. I can’t just sit and think.”
Sikes spoke up. “Wouldn’t it be better to at least stay for the funeral? To say good-bye?”
“Just be spotting Charlie Blaylock a bigger lead on me. I’ll mourn my brother better once justice has been served. Then I’ll be able to stand beside his grave and say my good-byes properly.”
“I’m obviously not a Texas Ranger,” Sikes said. “But I’ve been on campaign in the wilderness. I’d like to lend a hand in catching Blaylock…if you wouldn’t mind me riding along with you.”
Emmett studied the Englishman. “You handled yourself well last night. I’m sure we could use you. But this can’t be what you came to Texas for.”
“I came to Texas for a new start.”
The novelty of Sikes’s accent took the edge off Emmett’s somber mood for a moment. “A new start doing what?”
“I wanted no further part of Her Majesty’s army. And considering where I’ve been and what I’ve seen, England’s too tame for me. The American West seemed like a good fit. Wasn’t really sure what I’d do once I arrived, but here I am. You’ve got a need, and I’d be glad to throw in with you.”
“What do you think, Juanito?”
“I hate to mention it at a time like this, but we don’t have much dinero. I don’t know how we’d pay Señor Sikes.”
Sikes hurried to speak. “Oh, I can pay for my own needs. I’ve got a bit of money.”
“Wouldn’t be right,” Emmett said.
“Sure it would. Whether I ride with you or stay here, I’d have to support myself.”
“You sure?”
“I am.”
Emmett shook his head. “Now I feel beholden to you.”
“Not at all.”
Just then Elizabeth Lattimer and Nan reached the lobby. As soon as Nan saw Emmett, her tears began to flow again. She took his hand and led him to a fancy settee in the corner.
He found it hard to meet her gaze.
She put an arm around his neck, buried her face in his shoulder, and let herself bawl.
“I’m so sorry, Nan,” he said. He swallowed hard.
“What are we going to do now, Emmett?” she asked between sobs.
Unable to imagine Nan living alone for even a short time, he said, “You should probably go stay with your family for a while.”
“And what about you?”
Since Nan sat almost on Emmett’s lap, there was plenty of space left on the settee. Elizabeth Lattimer, who had been standing, now sat beside the two.
“Emmett, stay with me,” Nan said. “Otherwise I don’t think I’ll be able to get through this.”
He tried to ease her tight embrace. “I can’t stay, Nan. It’ll kill me.”
She pushed away from his shoulder just far enough to look him full in the face. Though her eyes were red from crying, her blue irises still shone, clear and youthful. Tears glimmered like diamonds on her lashes and cheeks. “You know how to mourn,” she said. “You lost your dear wife and you got over it.”
“I never got over it,” he said. “And grieving for Gabriela nearly broke me.”
“Please help me, Emmett,” she whispered. “It’ll break me if you don’t.” She returned her head to his chest and clung tighter.
If he’d had any doubt before, it had evaporated now. He was gentle, but he too
k her by the shoulders and held her away from him. “I love you like a sister, Nan. But I have to do this for Eli—go after his murderer, that is.”
She kept her hands on his arms. Tears still streamed down her cheeks.
“And every hour I wait gives Charlie Blaylock a better chance of getting away for good,” he said. “Your folks and the Lattimers will take good care of you, I’m sure.”
“We will, Nan,” Elizabeth said.
Nan shook her head. She blotted her eyes with a handkerchief. “But you’ll come back to look after me once you’ve caught Charlie Blaylock, won’t you, Emmett?”
It wouldn’t be like that between him and Nan. Of that he was completely sure. He squeezed her hand and said, “You won’t be alone.”
After a brief embrace, he stood and turned for the door, determined not to look back.
CHAPTER FIVE
The American River, just outside Sacramento, California
Charlie Blaylock’s brother, Seth, leaned forward in his saddle, watching a girl and her young man playfully splashing about in the shallows of the river.
The young woman, slim and caramel complexioned, clutched her skirt and petticoat, only halfheartedly attempting to keep them dry as she waded barefoot in water just shy of knee deep. She scooped a handful of water back at the boy. With a broad grin that revealed bright teeth and winsome dimples, she said, “You ain’t nothing but a tease, William Stanton.”
Water dripping from his blond hair, William laughed aloud and doused her again. She squealed but still smiled as she made her way to the bank.
“Whatcha gonna tell your pa when you arrive home all soakin’ wet?” he said.
“I’ll tell him you tried to drown me, that’s what.”
Screened from the pair by a cluster of willows, Seth shifted toward the rider next to him and murmured, “She don’t look Mexican, does she?”
The wispy rider adjusted a paisley neckerchief and said, “No. Doesn’t look Indian either. She’s a pretty one, though.”
Just a hair too loudly, the rider on the other side of Seth said, “Hell yeah, she’s pretty.”
Strong Convictions: An Emmett Strong Western (Emmett Strong Westerns Book 1) Page 3
