Outlaw's Reckoning

by Ralph Compton

  The farthest end of the second-floor hallway deteriorated to a mess of collapsed walls that looked like a gaping wound within the structure. Gus kicked in one door to find several bunks, which were probably used by the kidnappers. The room second to the end was smaller than the rest and occupied by one more man wielding a shotgun.

  The instant Gus opened the door, that shotgun was aimed directly at him. He hopped away from the door just as the shotgun blasted a chunk from the frame. Dust and splinters filled the air. Gus stepped into that gritty cloud and fired at the spot where the shotgunner had been standing. His aim wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough to hit the shotgunner before the second barrel could be emptied.

  Gus rushed into the room, ripped the shotgun from the other man’s grasp and swung it like a club at his midsection. The other man grunted and doubled over, which provided a perfect target for Gus’s knee as it snapped straight up and made contact with the man’s chin. Just to be safe, Gus dropped the shotgun’s stock onto the man’s head.

  Now that the shotgunner was unconscious and crumpled on the floor, Gus shifted his eyes toward the second person in there with him.

  “Are you Abigail Swann?” he asked.

  The woman was sitting in a chair against the wall to the right of the door. Her ankles were tied to the front legs of the chair and her hands were bound behind her back. There was something tied around her mouth, so Gus reached out to pull it away. “I ain’t here to hurt you,” he said as he removed the gag. “Are you Abigail Swann?”

  She nodded as her eyes still darted back and forth to the chaos that had erupted directly in front of her.

  “All right, then,” Gus told her. “How’d you like to stretch your legs a bit?”

  Chapter 12

  When he’d first untied Abigail from her chair, Gus thought he might have to carry her out of that building. She was more than willing to work the kinks out of her arms as soon as he cut through those ropes, but her legs were weak and unsteady beneath her. She could hardly stand at first, but wasn’t about to stop trying.

  “Don’t touch me!” she snapped when Gus attempted to reach out for her.

  Keeping his hand out despite her swatting at it, Gus said, “I’m only trying to lend you a hand, lady.”

  “You’ve already done enough. Just leave me be.”

  “In case you ain’t been looking, I’m the one setting you free.”

  “Well, you could have fooled me. You almost shot me when you came bursting in here.”

  “You want us both to be shot?” Gus asked. “Then we could just stand around this place and wait for more gunmen to come along. It shouldn’t be much longer before they arrive.”

  Abigail rubbed her wrists and looked around as if she was seriously considering staying put. Eventually, she announced, “We can go. Just try not to get us both killed.”

  “Stay behind me.”

  “Do you know where you’re going?”

  “It ain’t that hard to figure out,” Gus replied. “There’s some stairs and a front door. I was plannin’ on putting both of those to good use.”

  “Fine. No need to be so—”

  “Come on,” Gus snapped as he grabbed hold of her arm and dragged her out of the room. “We don’t have time for this.”

  Abigail stumbled along behind him and tried to pull her arm free of his grasp every step of the way. Before they reached the top of the stairs, Gus kicked around the idea of going back for the gag so he could stuff it into her mouth, where it belonged.

  “Slow down,” she demanded. “We’ll break our necks.”

  “No, we won’t.”

  “I haven’t been on my feet for days. My legs feel like straw and they’re mostly numb.”

  “Then I’ll carry you,” Gus offered.

  “You most certainly will not!” Abigail protested in a voice that made it seem as if his proposition had been of a completely different sort. “For all I know you’re just a—Look out!” Her scream echoed through the entire building and her face was aimed directly at a lump three-quarters of the way down the stairs. That lump happened to be the man Gus had sent tumbling down there. That lump also happened to be lifting a pistol.

  Firing his Colt on instinct, Gus put a bullet close enough to the man on the stairs to rattle him. After that, Gus rushed down to where the man had landed and kicked the gun from his hand. He continued down to the first floor and pulled Abigail along with him.

  “Don’t scream like that again,” Gus snarled.

  Although she’d eased up on trying to pull her arm from his grasp, Abigail was still a stumbling anchor, making every step twice as difficult as it should have been. “He was going to shoot you,” she said. “I just saved your life.”

  “And I have yet to get you out of here, so keep quiet and do what I say.”

  “We’re not out of here yet. And if I see someone about to shoot you, perhaps I’ll just stay quiet and let them do it.”

  “Good.”

  Gus couldn’t see her face, but he could feel the anger coming from the woman behind him like steam whistling from a kettle. He knew he should let go of her arm to free up that hand, but Gus had already seen enough of Abigail Swann to know she wasn’t about to come along easily. He maintained his grip on her and made a sharp turn at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Are you the marshal?” she asked. “Or a sheriff? Maybe a Texas Ranger?”

  “Texas Ranger?” Gus scoffed. “Do you know where you are?”

  “Texas Rangers leave Texas! They track wanted men as far as they need to in order to bring them in.”

  “I suppose you’re just not wanted badly enough.”

  Abigail sputtered to try to come up with something to say to that. Fortunately for Gus, it kept her busy long enough for them to work their way back to the office where he’d climbed in through the window. “Have you seen anyone else around besides the men I already dealt with?” he asked.

  “I would think you’d know that before charging in here like a—”

  Letting go of her arm, Gus wheeled around to stare at her. Abigail was stunned to get her hand back, but stayed put so she could glare right back at him.

  “Look, lady, if you want to stay here, that’s fine with me.”

  “I didn’t—”

  Silencing her with a quickly upraised finger, Gus said, “I made it this far and I intend on getting you out. Just so you know, it would make things a lot easier for me if I could toss your carcass over my shoulder and carry you out. How’d that be?”

  It didn’t take long for Abigail’s imagination to run wild. Pretty soon, the defiant scowl on her face gave way to an expression that wasn’t much more than a thin, petrified veil. Seeing that she was frightened enough to keep her mouth shut, Gus asked, “You want to help me?”

  She nodded.

  “How many men did you see in here at any given time?”

  “I . . . don’t know,” she mumbled. “In case you didn’t notice—” Stopping herself, Abigail looked away from him and said, “I didn’t leave that room, but I heard plenty of men inside.”

  “Is there anyone watching from the outside?”

  “They talked about scouts, but I think a bunch of them left to go somewhere else.”

  Gus looked outside for any sign that someone might be waiting for them. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t anything beyond that window that hadn’t been there when he’d come in. “It should be safe for us to go this way, then,” he told her.

  “Should be?” Abigail asked. “Don’t you know for certain?” Suddenly, the sneer returned to her face and the edge returned to her voice. “Don’t you have any partners? Didn’t you at least have a plan when you came here?”

  “I didn’t really intend for all this to happen,” Gus said more to himself than to her. “At least, not tonight.”

  The only thing that kept him from jumping out that window was the fear that came over him when things went too easily. Sure, there’d been shots fired and blood spilled, but
Gus had assumed that getting Abigail out of Bateman Supply was going to be a whole lot harder.

  “What’s taking you so long?” Abigail groused. “Why don’t we just go? For that matter, why don’t we just go out through the front door?”

  “Because that’s too easy,” Gus snarled. “If there’s an ambush, that’s where it’s bound to be.”

  “Then what about the back door? I know there’s got to be one of those.”

  As if in answer to her question, a slamming sound came from the rear of the building. That was followed by the thumping of rushed steps and several raised voices.

  “That’s why we don’t go through the back door,” Gus hissed. “And that’s also what I was hoping to hear. Now that those men are busy by the door, how about you climb outside?”

  If she’d been genuinely impressed with Gus’s reasoning, she showed it by clenching her mouth into a tight line and glaring at him the way she’d been doing since first laying eyes on him. Rather than say what she was so clearly thinking, Abigail grabbed hold of the windowsill and sat down on it.

  “Are you going to help me or not?” she asked.

  Fighting back the impulse to help her by shoving her in much the same way he’d shoved that gunman down the stairs, he took her hand while she daintily swung her legs over the sill. After taking her sweet time in turning her back to him, she hopped down and started dusting herself off.

  As if to show her how it was done, Gus placed one hand on the sill and climbed through the window. Still able to hear commotion from inside the building, Gus grabbed Abigail’s arm and pulled her toward the street.

  “The least you could do is take the other arm,” she whined.

  “Would that make you come along any easier?”

  “I’m not in the habit of—”

  “Then just keep quiet and keep your feet moving,” Gus told her. “There’ll be plenty of time to complain later.”

  Abigail muttered and whined, but Gus didn’t pay any attention to her. Instead, he did his level best to concentrate on what he was doing. Dragging Abigail behind him was akin to building a house of cards in a wind storm. More than once, he entertained the thought of knocking her in the head and throwing her over one shoulder. Then again, the thought of how she’d be when she woke up was not a pleasant one.

  After winding past a few tents, Gus made a bee-line for the Cheyenne. He recalled there being other saloons in that vicinity, and they should serve his purpose well enough. When he got close enough to hear the music and bawdy laughter that filled that section of camp, Gus was immediately slowed to a snail’s pace. The anchor he was towing had dug her feet in and nearly brought him to a stop.

  “I’m not going there!” Abigail declared.

  Gus turned and glared directly into her eyes. “You’re going where I tell you or I can just hand you right back to those kidnappers. Understand me? I risked life and limb to get you out of there and all I’ve gotten so far is grief! You want to go back and get tied to that chair? Fine with me. You want both of us to catch a bullet? Just keep flappin’ your gums and drawin’ attention.” Pressing a finger against her forehead, he added, “Is steppin’ foot inside a saloon worse than gettin’ a hole shot through your skull?”

  Abigail stared at him as her eyes blinked in a quick series of flutters. Her lips drew tighter together and she was plainly fighting to keep them that way.

  “You got something to say?” Gus asked. “Go ahead. It’s not like we got anything better to do!”

  Finally, Abigail pulled in a breath and told him, “Those men threatened to sell me to one of these places as a whore. They said they’d found someone at one of these saloons who would buy me outright and didn’t care where I came from. If I didn’t lie down like I was supposed to, I was to be whipped or handed off to someone who could take me somewhere they could do whatever they wanted to me. I don’t know which saloon they were talking about, but someone in there might recognize me if we went inside. Ever since they told me all of that,” she added, “the thought of stepping foot in any saloon again makes me ill. Perhaps if I close my eyes and you lead me, I can bear it.”

  Gus couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt so bad.

  He’d shot men for the change in their pockets.

  He’d stabbed some for no reason at all.

  He’d even been known to punch people in the face when they tried to play on his sympathies. And yet, somehow or other, Abigail was playing them like a fiddle.

  She must have known what she was doing because she closed her eyes and held out her hand as though she didn’t expect to get it back. “Well, go on,” she said. “Lead me.”

  “Perhaps it wouldn’t be wise to go in there after all,” Gus muttered. “More of those gunmen might be inside.” A bit farther down, he spotted another place that appeared to have a lantern glowing inside. “Let’s try over there. Looks like they serve food.”

  “You’re hungry?” she asked.

  “It’s a place to keep our heads down for a bit while watching what’s going on. If you want something to eat, you can have it.”

  Gus led the way to a tent that was less than half the size of the saloon. Inside, the place seemed doubly large since the only ones in there were an old man sleeping with his head on a table and a very bored woman perched on a stool. As soon as she saw Gus and Abigail, the woman jumped up and rushed over to them. “Good evening to you both,” she said.

  “I’m starving,” Abigail announced.

  “Well, I’ve got some stew left over from supper service as well as some soup. To be honest, the soup is a lot like the stew. There’s also some bread.”

  “Soup for me.” Tossing an offhanded wave to Gus, she added, “I don’t know about him.”

  “If the stew’s got meat in it, I’ll take it,” Gus replied.

  “It does, but—”

  “Fine. I’ll take it.”

  Abigail rolled her eyes as if she needed to apologize for Gus’s behavior. The woman who ran the place looked to be happy just to have some customers and she hurried behind a curtain before they could change their minds. When Abigail tried to sit next to a smaller, window-sized flap in the tent, Gus shook his head and took that seat instead.

  “I would like to get some fresh air,” Abigail muttered. “But I suppose you know best.”

  Gus sat upon a chair that creaked loudly as his weight settled onto it. “Yeah,” he said, “I do know best. You’ll get plenty of fresh air over the next few days.”

  “I suppose we’ll be taking a train back to my father’s place. It’s in Sacramento, but the smaller place in Prescott is a lot closer. I’m sure we can get a ticket—”

  “No trains,” Gus said.

  The restaurant’s owner rushed over to the table to give them both cups of water. “I’m just warming the food up for you. It won’t take long.” With that, she hurried away.

  “What do you mean, no trains?” Abigail asked as if the other woman had never been there.

  “The men who’re left will be expecting us to ride a train. That’s why we can’t take one.”

  “Well, I have something to say about that. Are you listening to me?” She demanded.

  Gus smiled pleasantly and replied, “Not at all, but go on.”

  Abigail crossed her arms and stared at him angrily, which didn’t keep him from enjoying his stew. It was delicious.

  Chapter 13

  Gus watched the street from inside the little restaurant, waiting for the surviving gunmen to come in search of Abigail Swann. When he was done with his stew, Gus stayed and nursed a cup of coffee, but didn’t see much of anything outside. Even as they left the place, Gus fully intended on drawing his gun and fighting through a storm of lead at any given second. When none of that came, he wasn’t sure what to think.

  Some might have been grateful, but Gus knew better than that. It would have been better to have the remaining gunmen charge at him when they were still angry and flailing like rabid dogs. Given time to lick their wou
nds, they might very well come up with a real plan to track Abigail down and bring her back.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Abigail asked.

  Shaking himself from his thoughts, Gus mumbled, “Huh?”

  “You haven’t said a word since you paid for all that coffee you drank. Aren’t you even going to tell me who you are?”

  “Later.”

  “Where are we going now? Do you even have any notion of what to do after you got me out of there?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  For once, Abigail was speechless. She shook her head as if it had come loose and blinked furiously at him. Under most any other circumstances, it would have been a funny sight.

  Gus led her down a few of the many crooked avenues that cut through Last Chance. Along the way, fortune smiled upon him again. Some clothes hung from a line just outside of a little shack and he snagged a few of them without breaking stride. “Wrap this around your head,” he told Abigail as he handed over a checked shirt that was still a bit damp after having been washed. “Cover your face.”

  She took the shirt as though she was appalled by the very sight of it. “This isn’t yours. You just stole this.”

  “Are you joking?”

  “We don’t need clothes this badly. I can make due with what I’ve got.”

  “Fine. Just keep yourself from being seen while I step in there for a moment.”

  Looking up to where Gus was headed, Abigail pulled in a sharp breath. “The Broken Spur? That’s one of the saloons those men were talking about when they threatened to sell me. Oh Lord. You didn’t come to rescue me at all. You’re one of those slavers!”

  “You caught me,” Gus said drily. “And rather than deal with those kidnappers, I stormed in and gunned them down because that’s so much easier.”

  Although she picked up on the sarcasm in his voice, Abigail wasn’t amused by the joke.

  “My partner is in there and I need to meet up with him,” Gus explained. “Stay put and keep your head down.”

  “What if those men do come along?” she asked.