by Scott Connor
Curtis hurled himself through the doorway. The moment he disappeared from view Lincoln ordered Jack to get Ellison into the saloon.
Lincoln dropped to one knee and checked on Billy, but the man was already still. So Lincoln hurried after the two men and into the saloon.
Jack helped Ellison to sit beside the door, but when he released him Ellison rolled to the side and lay on the floor. His breathing was shallow as he looked up at Lincoln.
‘It would seem you were right,’ he said. ‘Curtis wasn’t the right man to be sheriff.’
‘I’m glad you realized, but did I work out what happened here right?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What was that younger brother’s name?’
‘I can’t remember, honestly.’
‘Alan, perhaps,’ Jack said, standing behind him, ‘or maybe even Curtis, as in not Alan Curtis, but Curtis Allen.’
Ellison shook his head weakly. ‘I can’t remember.’
‘It’s a reasonable assumption,’ Lincoln said. ‘Curtis was nearby when Wesley was murdered.’
‘You can’t worry about that now,’ Jack said. ‘He’s hiding in the trading post and it’ll take some doing to get him out of somewhere with so many hiding-places.’
Lincoln frowned. ‘It’s odd how you know so much about the building next door. Time to tell the truth, Jack.’
Jack sighed and spread his hands. ‘As you’ve figured out, I was here recently when I killed Wilhelm and saved your life.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you were convinced I’d killed Sheriff Pringle and exposing the real killer was the only way I could clear my name.’
‘I believe you. Now stay here and look after the mayor.’ Lincoln raised a hand when Jack started to object. ‘I wouldn’t be a lawman if I endangered an innocent bystander.’
Jack acknowledged Lincoln’s admittance of his innocence with a curt nod. He knelt beside Ellison and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.
Lincoln slipped through the doorway and walked along beside the saloon, keeping the trading post ahead in view. He had a good view of the window and door and he looked back and forth between them as he approached.
He was five yards away when the low sun caught the glint of something metallic protruding from the wall. In a shocked moment Lincoln realized that it was a gun barrel poking out through a gap in the wall.
He dived towards the saloon wall a moment before Curtis fired, the bullet whining past him. Lincoln rolled and came to a halt slammed up against the wall.
‘Good try, Curtis,’ Lincoln said. ‘You just wasted your only chance.’
‘I’ll still get you,’ Curtis shouted from inside the post.
‘Why have you been so determined to kill me? I had nothing to do with what happened to your brothers.’
‘The lawman got away when Karl got him before I did. I’d spent months ruining his life, but I’m not too particular. As long as I get to kill a lawman, I’m happy.’
‘Then you’ll fail.’ Lincoln got to his feet. ‘Before we end this, tell me one thing – what really happened to your brothers ten years ago? I’ll make sure everyone knows after I’ve killed you.’
Curtis snorted and for a moment Lincoln thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he began speaking, telling Lincoln of how his brothers had left for Destitution, looking for revenge and leaving him behind.
As promised, Lincoln listened to the tale as he walked along, keeping his back to the wall.
He ducked into the space between the saloon and the trading post. Then as silently as possible he headed to the back of the building.
Curtis was still speaking, his voice wistful as he described the events that had shaped his life and led him on his quest for revenge. For the first time Lincoln felt a twinge of empathy for Curtis’s predicament as he paced along the back of the post.
That didn’t change his resolution to end this now, and with a quiet but firm movement he stepped to the side to stand in the open doorway. Curtis’s voice had allowed him to locate his position in the post and he picked out the shape of the man kneeling beside the front window.
But Curtis was looking at him with his gun already drawn and aimed at him.
Lincoln hurled himself to the side, firing in mid-air. Curtis fired at the same moment.
Curtis’s slug tore across Lincoln’s sleeve, but Lincoln’s aim was better. His shot slammed high into Curtis’s shoulder and stood him straight before he tumbled out through the window.
Lincoln hit the floor on his side, skidded to a halt, and then jumped to his feet. He hurried to the window, aiming to finish off Curtis before he gathered his senses.
He looked outside, but then darted back as a bullet thudded into the sill, sending splinters flying.
Worse, in his quick glance he hadn’t been able to see Curtis.
Another gunshot sounded followed by a returning shot as Curtis traded gunfire with, presumably, Jack.
Lincoln wasted no time and charged out through the door, looking towards the saloon as he guessed that Curtis would have gone in that direction. Curtis wasn’t visible.
Lincoln still kept running while darting his gaze around. Then Jack stepped out through the saloon doorway, and he was pointing over Lincoln’s shoulder.
‘Over there!’ he shouted.
Lincoln put his trust in Jack’s honesty and dropped to one knee. He fired on the turn, sighting Curtis as he completed his turn.
His first shot was wild, so he threw himself to the ground. He rolled and came to rest on his side with his gun thrust out and aimed up at Curtis.
In response, Curtis swung his gun to the side to follow Lincoln’s tumbling form. A moment before he could fire, Lincoln pulled the trigger.
His slug caught Curtis low in the chest, bending him double and forcing him to step backwards.
Curtis still managed to right himself and with his teeth gritted forced himself to raise his gun, but two shots hammered into him. One slug came from Lincoln catching him high in the chest and a second from Jack tore into his side.
Then Sheriff Alan Curtis, or Curtis Allen as he used to be known, went tumbling. This time he didn’t get up again.
Chapter Eighteen
‘I’m obliged for your help, Jack,’ Lincoln said.
He was standing before the grave of Sheriff Ben Pringle with Jack standing a respectful two paces behind him.
‘It was the least I could do,’ Jack said. He provided a hollow laugh. ‘Curtis was determined that a lawman should die. At least the right one did.’
‘That’s not true. Curtis was no lawman.’
Jack nodded and then lowered his head for a suitable length of time.
‘Do we have a problem?’ he said.
‘Nope.’
‘Then I’ll leave you with your friend.’
Jack paced forward to look down at the grave. He looked at it for several seconds before smiling to Lincoln, which Lincoln acknowledged. Then he left.
As Jack mounted his horse and rode away, Lincoln searched again for the right words to say before he left.
He had to accept that Alan Curtis had got everything he’d wanted when he’d set out to get his revenge on everyone who had wiped out his brothers ten years ago.
With the mayor dying earlier, despite Doc Thoreau’s efforts, all his targets were now dead, and every one of them had suffered and had had cause to remember, reflect and regret what they’d done before they’d died.
Despite his abhorrence of people like Curtis and his brothers, Lincoln couldn’t help but think it was justice of a kind.
Earlier today Lincoln had cleared up the last of the loose ends when he’d found a mask in the shape of a skull in Curtis’s desk – his disguise while carrying out his revenge.
A light rain was in the air and the wind was rustling the dust past him as Lincoln withdrew the photographs he’d collected from the various victims.
‘Ben, you forgot your duty ten years ago,’ Lincoln said, finding at last that he
could say the words. ‘That doesn’t make you a bad man.’
One at a time he tore the photographs into pieces. Then he scattered the fragments to the wind, turned on his heel, and left the graveside.
When he rode away from Ben’s house he kept beside the river and headed north towards Black Point.
His destination was a small trading post run by Sarah Devere, one of the many good things in life he had in common with his old friend.
Kindle editions by Scott Connor
McGuire, Manhunter
Blood Gold
Silver Gulch Feud
Showdown in Dead Man’s Canyon
Clearwater Justice
Return to Black Rock (December 2015)
Lincoln Hawk Series
Ambush in Dust Creek
Golden Sundown
The Man They Couldn’t Hang
Lincoln Hawk: Box Set 1-3
Palmer & Morgan Series
Escape from Fort Benton
To The Death
Return to Black Rock
After serving fifteen years for his father’s murder, a crime he didn’t commit, Glenn Price is looking forward to his first day of freedom. But his enjoyment is short-lived when bounty hunter Randall Nash captures him the moment he steps out of jail.
Randall drags Glenn back to Black Rock, whose townsfolk nearly lynched him before. Within minutes of returning, Glenn faces the mob again when the corrupt sheriff charges him with another unjustified allegation of murder.
Can Glenn clear his name and find the real killer before the townsfolk invite him to a necktie party?
