Return to the Alamo

by Paul Bedford

  There was another detonation over by the church and a ball ploughed into the earth wall next to me. The man concealed there either assumed that his companion was dead, or simply didn’t care. Taking hold of the wounded man’s jacket, I heaved him to his feet. Out of his mind with pain he did not resist, but just continued with his sobbing and whining. I swiftly realized that I could not both support and manoeuvre him with one hand. Both belt guns would have to remain tucked in there, whilst I manhandled my human shield. I had possibly nine chambers available to me, provided the big man’s revolver had been fully loaded when I attacked him.

  Positioning myself directly behind my prisoner, I pressed my knee into the small of his back to propel him forward. Knowing only suffering and oblivious to my intention, he stumbled forward. And all the time, in the recesses of my mind, was the nagging worry over the location of Hugo Speirs.

  It became apparent that whomever we were approaching at least had his wits about him, as an angry voice boomed out across the compound. ‘For God’s sake, Jeb, get down. I can’t get a shot at him!’

  If this were going to work I would have to force the pace. Ignoring Jeb’s cries for aid, I kept my hands under his armpits and together we lurched towards the church. Another shot rang out, but this time much closer. The ball hit somewhere near our feet. I knew that it would be the only warning shot. The deadly nature of our progress seemed to have filtered through to Jeb, as he began to struggle in my grip.

  ‘Hold still,’ I snarled, as I pressed remorselessly onward. Then the inevitable happened. The next report was so loud that I felt I could reach out and touch my opponent. The ball penetrated Jeb’s chest at close range, the impact almost knocking us both down. The effect on him was immediate, as all strength left his legs.

  Allowing his dead weight to fall away from me, I drew and cocked both revolvers. The two weapons bucked in my hands and the resultant flashes provided brief but limited illumination. It was sufficient to highlight a human form, as it ducked down behind the low wall that separated the church from the rest of the compound.

  Always fire and move!

  I ran for the cover of the kitchen, the roof of which I had earlier hurled a chair at. This backed onto the same low wall and also joined up with the barrack block where I had taken refuge. With both revolvers again fully cocked, I burst into the darkened room and crouched down behind the only window. Drawing in deep drafts of air, I tried to steady myself. Since my murderous attack on Usaph, I had been in almost perpetual motion. I was hot and sweaty and my left arm ached abominably.

  Gradually my breathing returned to normal and I became aware that an almost eerie silence had settled over the compound. Such a situation worked on the nerves, and was far harder to cope with than the heat of battle.

  ‘Hello, Thomas!’

  Speirs’s voice came from directly behind me, but some distance back into the room. It came as a complete surprise and left me frozen with shock.

  ‘You never fail to entertain me with your resourcefulness. I will be almost sad to hand you over to the authorities.’ His tone was one of light-hearted banter, but I knew that it had to be backed up by deadly force. As if to confirm my thoughts and right on cue, I heard the distinctive sound of a hammer being retracted.

  ‘I have my Pepperbox in the other hand, but as you doubtless know that does not require cocking. I could kill you now, but that would only complicate things. So if you resist I shall merely provide you with a disabling and excruciatingly painful wound.’ He said this with such confidence that he could almost have been bored with the proceedings. ‘Now, I will thank you to place your two revolvers on the ground. Do not stand up or turn around.’

  As I complied with his command, my mind was a seething cauldron. He could not know of Vicky’s derringer in my pocket, yet I had no opportunity to reach for it. Nothing would induce me to be his prisoner again, yet I had Sarah’s survival to consider.

  ‘Where is Sarah? What have you done with her?’

  His reply was instantaneous, yet delivered in that strange, almost carefree manner of his. ‘Oh, she’s hanging around somewhere. If you follow my instructions to the letter I might allow you to see her.’

  An icy tremor went through my body at the implications of that reply, but I determined to remain strong. Feigning concern I asked, ‘And how is your shoulder, Hugo? Does it pain you a lot?’

  ‘I am indebted to your ranger friend for that. I intend to repay him in full at my convenience.’ A noticeably harsher edge had crept into his voice. I wondered whether he was actually capable of holding two weapons.

  His next instruction showed that there was nothing amiss with his wits. ‘For now though, I require you to drop your knife on the ground and then stand up.’

  This was the moment. If I failed to act, I would consign Sarah and myself to oblivion. With an exaggerated sigh, I tossed my knife away to one side and slowly raised myself up out of the crouching position. Before reaching my full height I fell forward and simply rolled out of the window. The fact that I survived the manoeuvre was proof enough that I had caught him off guard.

  As I scrabbled away to the side, a shot crashed out from the interior of the building and I knew that in such an enclosed space Speirs would probably be deaf for some time to come. Getting properly to my feet, I ran for my life towards the gatehouse.

  Now sounding anything but light-hearted, Speirs yelled out to his one remaining accomplice. ‘Get after him, you oaf, he’s making for the gatehouse. He’s unarmed!’

  That last comment probably saved my life. As I reached the entrance, another shot rang out, but the weapon was fired on the move and the ball merely smacked into masonry.

  Charging into the gatehouse, I looked to neither left nor right, but continued on to the breastwork beyond. I left the building like a cork from a bottle and then angled over to my right. Twisting sharply, I allowed my back to slam into the wooden fence, this being the simplest way to halt my headlong dash. Ignoring the pain that that collision created, I reached down and grabbed my two weapons of ‘last resort’. Pounding footsteps sounded in the gatehouse, as I somewhat clumsily cocked both long barrelled pistols at once. Without taking any precautions whatsoever, my pursuer charged out of the building at a dead run.

  I will never forget the expression of sheer horror on his face, as he caught sight of the muzzles levelled at his torso. Both pistols crashed out in the night, their flashes highlighting the fate of my enemy. The impetus of the two heavy balls was sufficient to stop him in his tracks. Coughing blood, he slewed sideways and by a fitting quirk of fate, collapsed on top of the bear-like individual that I had dispatched earlier.

  Bending over my latest victim, I dragged him onto his back. He was in possession of two Paterson Colt revolvers. One was in his belt, whilst the other was still gripped in his right hand. Taking hold of them both, I balanced them in my hands and drew the expected result. The belted weapon had expended five shots and was therefore empty; whilst on closer inspection the other appeared to be fully charged. Therefore, along with the ‘stocking pistol’, I now had six shots available to me. That would have to do. Discarding the empty weapon, I squeezed through a gap in the fence and slid down the east wall of the defensive breastwork. I had now dispatched all of Speirs’s ‘bar trash’, and no power on earth was going to prevent me finding my beloved Sarah Fetterman.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Between the corner of the south wall and the church, lay a defensive structure known as the Palisade Wall. This had been constructed after the original compound, to link up the two walls and prevent anyone approaching the church, other than through the compound itself. A ditch ran along the full length of it. It was in this that I now scurried, like a rat through a run. I knew with an obsessive certainty that Sarah was somewhere in the church. Apart from it being the strongest defensive site, its appearance and history would undoubtedly appeal to Speirs’s sense of theatre.

  But if I was aware of that, so too would he. He seemed to posse
ss an uncanny ability to second-guess my moves. Yet he was wounded and he did make mistakes. Consideration of his shoulder wound gave me the germ of an idea. Like my own injury it would hamper him from climbing, but by enduring the pain such a tactic had proved successful for me. Individual rooms in the church possessed roofs, yet that main hall of worship did not. If I could somehow get atop one of them, I would have a clear field of fire across what I knew as the nave.

  In the time taken to ponder all of this, I had reached the south wall of the church. Its height and solidity was intimidating, but by keeping close to its contours I hoped to avoid being seen. Coming round to the east wall, I remembered that a gun emplacement had been constructed behind it, but again I had no way of scaling it. My one chance lay where the north wall of the church joined the low east wall of the compound. Here was the fortified church’s only weakness and I intended to exploit it to the full.

  I soon found myself standing at the juncture of the right angle where the two structures met. The compound wall was just over six feet high and I knew that behind it I would find a firing step running the full length of it. For well over a minute I just stood on the spot and listened. The silence was total. Placing my latest acquisition securely in my belt, I reached up and seized the top of the wall with my right hand.

  Gritting my teeth, I raised my left arm up to join the other and gave a mighty heave. The effort provided enough momentum to allow me to swing a leg up onto the wall, but I very nearly blacked out. The pain was quite sufficient to make Heaven weep. Had Speirs been in the vicinity he would have caught me like a floundering fish. Lying flat on the wall, I could taste bile in my mouth. Blinking rapidly to clear my vision, I looked anxiously around. Mercifully all was quiet. Drawing in a deep breath to steady myself, I got carefully to my feet and viewed the next obstacle. Another climb of similar height awaited me, putting me atop a parapet similar to the one that I had dropped from earlier.

  Anticipation of the discomfort to follow would only make it worse, so I simply threw myself at the structure and dragged my weary, pain wracked body over. I almost cried out in my torment, only managing to avoid it by keeping a vision of Sarah in my head.

  Stifling a sob, I hauled myself off the parapet and down onto another roof. It felt sound enough and displayed no sign of strain at supporting my weight. The next part would be deuced awkward. To look down into the church would involve the risk of discovery. Then I heard a low moan.

  Crawling forward, I reached the edge and peered over. What I saw will remain etched in my mind for all time. I barely resisted the urge to bellow out my rage and indignation. Speirs’s disconcertingly flippant remark had had a basis in truth. Sarah was quite literally ‘hanging around’!

  Ducking back behind the low wall, I tried to make sense of what I had just seen. That man had a sickness upon him for which there was only one cure.

  Near the east wall of the church there remained an assortment of timber supports used to reinforce the gun platform. The captain had had two of these nailed together to form a crucifix. Sarah’s slim form, clad only in a nightgown, had been tied to it, so that she bore an unnervingly close resemblance to Christ on the Cross. In an uncharacteristic gesture of compassion, the madman had restricted himself to the use of rawhide rather than nails.

  Taking advantage of the moonlight, I risked another rapid scrutiny. It was obvious that the bonds were sufficiently tight to restrict her circulation, but what really concerned me was the cord around her neck. In addition, a rag of some sort was tied across her mouth, effectively stifling any cries for assistance and no doubt further impeding her breathing. The thought that Vicky’s fate could be repeated was just too much to bear.

  And then she looked up!

  The light of the silvery orb permitted our eyes to meet and the sheer terror that she felt transmitted itself to me. She was imploring me to save her in the only way that she could.

  An overwhelming sense of guilt hit me, as I knew only too well that her suffering was purely due to her involvement with me. Then her eyes dropped with such rapidity that only one explanation was possible. Speirs had to be nearby.

  Dipping back behind the wall, I steadily and deliberately counted to sixty, before raising myself up again. Nothing had changed. Then her eyes flitted back up to mine and I carefully mouthed one word: ‘Where?’

  She still had her wits about her and flashed a glance to her left, to where a ramp led up to the gun platform. So that was his location. Utilizing his innate cunning, Speirs had positioned himself in the shadows somewhere under the gun emplacement, enabling him to see anyone approaching Sarah. By a combination of good judgement and luck, I had avoided his field of vision.

  The only way to flush the bastard out was to open fire on him, but whilst the angle of our relative positions prevented him seeing me, it also hindered such action. Then I recalled the derringer. Removing it from my pocket I tested its balance. Dropping it upside down at the correct angle onto hard ground, so that the hammer struck first, would hopefully cause the percussion cap to detonate. By the grace of God, part of the nave had been stone flagged, so providing the perfect surface.

  Placing the Colt inside my jacket so as to muffle the noise, I cocked the hammer and then placed it on the roof before me. Taking the derringer in both hands, I leaned very slightly over the wall so as to line it up with the ramp. Then I simply let go of the diminutive pistol.

  Almost instantaneously a loud report echoed through the church, followed by the sound of an impact under the gun platform. With a strident oath, Captain Hugo Speirs leapt out into full view, desperately searching for his assailant. In his right hand he held a Paterson Colt, whilst his left arm was shrouded in a sling. Swiftly picking up my revolver, I took careful aim at his torso and squeezed the trigger. Emitting a loud bang, the weapon bucked satisfyingly in my hand.

  The .36 calibre lead ball smashed into the officer’s right shoulder, throwing him back into one of the timber supports. The captured revolver had obviously pulled to the left slightly, as I had intended to catch him dead centre. Speirs stood there with a stunned expression on his face, gazing down at the blood soaking into his jacket. A feeling of pure joy surged through me, as I realized that I had finally overcome my lethal adversary. Rising up on my knees so as to be in full view, I kept my weapon trained on him and shouted down, ‘Throw the gun away, or I will surely finish you!’

  Even as I uttered those words, I knew that I really should have just discharged another chamber and ended his life, but something held me back. The same misplaced sense of decency that I had exhibited with Sergeant Flaxton perhaps.

  At first he showed no sign of having heard me, but then painfully slowly he raised his head and settled his eyes on mine. For long seconds he just stared at me, as though weighing up his options. Then, with a resigned sigh, he gently lowered the hammer to half cock and tossed the revolver off into the shadows.

  ‘Now the Pepperbox!’

  Speirs’s only response was to allow his finely honed features to register a slight smile, and for an instant I thought that he just might resist. But no, discretion took the place of valour and he unhurriedly pulled the vicious looking weapon from the folds of his sling.

  ‘Place it carefully on the floor,’ I commanded.

  For all his apparent calm he was obviously in great pain, for the effort required to bend down elicited a tremendous groan from him.

  ‘Now the knife,’ I continued relentlessly. ‘Throw it over towards Sarah.’

  I would need that, having surrendered mine a short time before.

  Without a word, he drew it from the sheath in his right boot and did as I commanded. The blade clattered against the flagstone as it came to rest near her feet. Motioning with my gun barrel towards the north wall I said, ‘Now move over there and sit down.’

  I expected some form of defiance, but again he obeyed without comment. Pushing himself away from the support, he staggered over to the wall. Blood continued to soak into his clothes and h
is darkly handsome face had turned ashen. As he collapsed to the floor, a cry of pain escaped his thin lips, but too much had passed between us for me to feel even the slightest compassion.

  Placing my revolver in my belt, I swung over the parapet and dropped into the nave of the church. I hit the stone flags with my knees bent and then rolled onto my right shoulder. Crying out as a sharp pain shot through my ankles, I nevertheless twisted around rapidly to view my recumbent opponent. Such was the power of his personality; I still could not fully accept that I had vanquished him.

  He lay with his back to the wall, apparently posing no threat. Getting gingerly to my feet, I limped over to where Sarah hung so pathetically from the cross. Taking up Speirs’s knife, I stepped up to face her and again our eyes met. Smiling through a veil of tears, I carefully sliced the cord from around her neck and then removed the gag from her mouth. The skin around her lips was cracked and sore. I wanted to smother her in kisses, but knew that would have to wait. I then sliced through the cords that restrained her legs. As I did so, a tremendous shudder went through her lightly clad body. Next I cut away the rawhide that bound her arms so that, suddenly unsupported, she fell forward onto my right shoulder.

  ‘Oh Thomas, I knew you’d come for me.’ So saying she clung to me with the strength of ten, as her whole body began to tremble with reaction.

  ‘What a touching little scene,’ commented Speirs dryly from off to my left.

  An icy chill swept up my back. Even though Sarah clung bodily to me I swivelled, reached down for my revolver and pointed it directly at him. He had uttered those same words an instant before destroying Kirkham Shockley! His right hand, on the point of entering the folds of the sling, froze as he observed my unexpectedly swift reaction.