One Man's Fire

by Ralph Compton

  Saunders wailed in pain, feeling a rush of blood through his veins that gave him the strength to straighten up and carry Hank along with him as he rammed himself and the outlaw into the closest wall.

  “Traitor!” Jake hollered while quickly replacing the spent rounds in his .44.

  Taking a moment to think back, Eli figured he had two shots left in the .38 he held. The second pistol was fully loaded, so he drew that one in preparation for a switch once the first cylinder was emptied. Acrid smoke filled the close quarters of the bedroom and burned his eyes as he pointed his right gun at Jake.

  Every jostle threw his aim off-kilter.

  When he pulled his trigger, stuffing exploded from the mattress Jake was using as cover.

  With every explosive bark from Jake’s .44, the world became that much more chaotic.

  Eli dropped to one knee to present a smaller target. Although it had been a wise move to get away from the bed, there wasn’t anywhere else for him to seek refuge. When his first .38 went dry, he dropped it and tossed the second across his body in a move he’d practiced enough times for it to become second nature.

  Feathers and stuffing from the mattress hung in the air around the bed to turn the already smoky air into a murky soup. Jake stood up to get a better look above the thickest section of the gritty cloud. His gun hand was already coming up and his eyes searched for a target.

  In the hall, Saunders still had his hands full. Blood streamed down the side of Hank’s head from a nasty gash created by the lawman’s bludgeoning attacks. Like most head wounds, it looked worse than it was, and since it hadn’t put the outlaw down yet, it wasn’t bad enough to do the trick any time soon. Saunders shoved Hank away and twisted his body to take a vicious swing at the outlaw, but Hank dropped down to let the sheriff’s fist pound against the wood directly over his head.

  Eli watched those things happen through the open doorway as if the fight were slowly spooling out in a dream. More accustomed to close-quarters fights, Hank had abandoned his firearm in favor of a blade, and being a killer with blood that was colder than the bottom of an ice floe, he had no qualm with hopping to one side so he could get a clear view at the sheriff’s back.

  If Eli took his shot now, he was certain he could get Jake before that .44 spat any lead in his direction. Making a subtle adjustment by shifting his hip and redirecting his arm, Eli used every bit of focus at his disposal, squeezed his trigger, and put a round into Hank’s side just as the blade was about to be sunk into Saunders’s body.

  Hank yelped more out of surprise than pain as the impact of the gunshot spun him away from Saunders and sent the blade flying from his hand. That gave the lawman enough of an opening to turn and face him for a more fair fight.

  The .44 in Jake’s hand went off.

  A bullet slammed into Eli’s upper body, followed by a searing hot pain that dug into his flesh before the chunk of lead found its way out again. Suddenly Eli didn’t have the strength to move. He didn’t even have the strength to stand, so he fell straight down and hit the floor in a heap.

  The moment his cheek touched the dirty wooden slats, Eli became a simple observer without the ability to study angles or read the situation as it unfolded.

  Footsteps thumped against the floor.

  Boots filled his line of sight.

  A familiar voice rumbled above him like a storm.

  “We could’a been rich, you and I,” Jake said to Eli. “But you wouldn’t be happy until you had your damn blaze of glory! At least I can do that much for ya.”

  The next few seconds were mostly silent.

  Something scraped in the vicinity of the doorway, but that might as well have been twenty miles away as far as Eli was concerned. There was a dull thump mixed with a crunch that was a lot closer. Eli briefly considered the notion that the sound could have been all he’d heard of the gunshot that ended his life.

  When a pistol dropped to the floor directly in front of Eli’s face, he reconsidered that notion.

  Straining to get a look at the pistol, Eli could see it was a bloodstained Army Colt. Soon a scraped and equally bloody hand came down to retrieve it.

  “Can you stand up?” Saunders asked.

  The air still stung Eli’s nose and clung to the inside of his mouth in a gritty film. When he tried to prop himself up, his entire body was set aflame by agony that extended in every direction from the fresh wound in his upper body. “No,” he grunted while allowing himself to fall back down.

  Rough hands rolled Eli onto his side and began tugging at his shirt. Eli couldn’t tell much more than that because his senses were dulling to make his entire world one swirling blur.

  “Looks like the shot isn’t so bad,” Saunders said.

  “Feels bad to me,” Eli groaned.

  “It’s messy, but the bullet went all the way through.”

  “What about Hank?”

  “He’s gone. Dead,” Saunders quickly added. “Took every last bullet I had, but he’s done for. That’s why I didn’t have any rounds left to help you.”

  “Where’s Jake?”

  “Out cold. I threw my gun at him.”

  Eli chuckled, which was one of the most painful things he’d ever done. “That’s the best you could do?”

  “Saved your sorry hide, didn’t it? Let’s get you up. Miss, we need a doctor as quick as you can find one.”

  Since his body had gone mostly numb, Eli didn’t feel much of anything as he was hefted to his feet. Whatever he saw was smeared on the edges like a painting that had been left out in the rain. Heather was nearby, staring at him with eyes that were wide enough for him to see even with his current impediments.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “He sure won’t be unless he gets a doctor right quick!” Saunders roared.

  She turned and hurried from the room.

  When Eli was turned around so Saunders could bring him to his feet without aggravating the wound, he saw Jake lying across the bed. The gang leader was sprawled on the mattress with both legs dangling over the side. Blood from a gash on his temple stained the linens in a spreading crimson blossom. At least that explained why he hadn’t heard the outlaw hit the floor.

  “Is that…the only way you…know how to fight?” Eli asked. “Knocking men unconscious?”

  Saunders pulled in a labored breath and shifted so Eli’s arm wrapped more securely around the back of his neck. “Seems to have worked this long. Why put an end to a good thing?”

  “Shouldn’t you put some handcuffs on him? That’s another one of your strengths, isn’t it?”

  “Shut yer mouth before I knock you out again. Already know just the spot to hit.”

  Eli no longer had the strength to hold his head up, so he allowed it to droop forward. He expected to fall to the floor as well, but Saunders wasn’t about to let that happen.

  Pain shot through Eli’s body like a hot poker that had been jammed into his bullet wound and shoved all the way through to the other side. His eyes snapped open and were immediately closed by a rough hand that pressed against his face to push him down.

  “Hold him steady!” an unfamiliar voice demanded.

  “I thought you said the bullet was out of him!” Eli recognized that voice as Saunders’s.

  “It is, but it grazed a rib on its way out. There’s chipped bone stuck into a few places that needs to be removed. Just hold him steady and let me do my job!”

  “I think he’s waking up, Doc.”

  “I don’t care if he’s trying to dance—hold him still!”

  Eli felt another jolt of pain, accompanied by the presence of something cool and metallic within his side. He couldn’t pinpoint where the tool was, but it was somewhere along the same path taken by Jake’s bullet. When the tool found what it was after, Eli heard a crunch that filled his entire body.

  “Got it,” the doctor said. “Keep holding him steady.”

  “What do you think I’m doin’?”

  “Steadier! This isn�
��t going to come out easily.”

  The doctor was right about that. The bone fragment must have been lodged into a sensitive spot, because Eli felt it the instant it was moved. There was a stabbing pain, followed by a welcome wash of cold and an even more welcome blanket of unconsciousness.

  “You know where you are, son?”

  Although Eli still felt as if he were slowly falling through empty space, he knew one thing for certain: Whoever was talking wasn’t his father. It took some effort, but he managed to open his eyes and get a look at a man with a round face, kind eyes, and sweaty brow. “Cheyenne?” he mumbled.

  The kind man nodded. “Can you tell me what street we’re on?”

  “I…couldn’t have told you that when I was upright and feeling fine.”

  Saunders stepped into view and said, “He’s got that right. This one’s nothing more than a robber who looks for money that needs to be stolen.”

  Despite the humor in the sheriff’s tone, the man with the round face didn’t find it amusing. “He’s taken a blow to the head and has lost a lot of blood. I was merely checking to see if there was any memory loss or other side effects.”

  Gently rapping Eli’s shoulder with the back of his hand, Saunders said, “He means he wants to make sure nothin’ was rattled loose in that head of yours after you fell. You feeling all right?”

  Eli rubbed his head. The movement caused some degree of pain, but not as much as he’d been expecting. When he went through the arduous motions of sitting up, he was partially hampered by thick layers of bandages wrapped around his torso. They didn’t exactly restrict him, but were tighter than a bear hug. “Guess so. Feel pretty good, actually. That doctor did a real nice job.”

  “I would be that doctor,” the man with the round face said as he shoved Saunders aside to get a closer look at his patient. “And yes. I seem to have done a good job. Sheriff Saunders tells me you suffer from some other sort of ailment. What is it?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “It may affect your treatment.”

  Eli locked eyes with the doctor as best he could and said, “Just patch me up and let me deal with the rest.”

  “Fine,” the doctor said grudgingly. “I suppose all I could have done was offer some medicine or possibly a suggestion for treatment. I’m not exactly a specialist.”

  “Kind of modest, ain’t ya?” Saunders said. “After his being out for four days, I was beginning to think Eli was done for.”

  “Four days?” Eli said as he sat up. He grabbed his head with both hands when he felt the room start to tilt around him. Although his hands did nothing to cure the dizziness that had set in, they did feel enough stubble on his cheeks and chin to verify what he’d heard.

  The doctor touched Eli’s forehead and muttered, “Cooling off. Not so clammy. All good signs.”

  “You hear that?” Saunders said while smacking Eli good-naturedly on the shoulder. “Good signs!”

  “Don’t do that,” the doctor scolded.

  As the doctor checked him over, Eli looked at Saunders and asked, “What about the others?”

  “Hank’s dead,” Saunders replied. “That one wasn’t going to come with me any other way. Jacob Welles was handed over to some federal marshals who were after him for God only knows how many counts of murder or thieving.”

  “And what about me?”

  “Since the marshals didn’t ask about you, I didn’t tell ’em. There were plenty of other men who rode with that gang, but Jacob Welles was the leader and when I tossed in Hank as a bonus, those marshals were pleased as pigs in slop. You’ll answer for your crimes, but it’ll be in a little town about ten miles outside Sherman. Friend of mine keeps the peace out there and owes me a favor. He’ll see you get treated fair.”

  “I’m still to hang, then?”

  The doctor seemed startled by that question, but continued what he was doing.

  “Not unless they started hanging folks for cracking open safes or getting their heads busted open. That’s all I can vouch for personally. There’s more, I’m sure, but you paid your penance in other ways.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “No,” Saunders quickly replied. “I’m gambling. You’ll do your time and mend your ways. I’ve seen enough to give me faith in that much. I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Eli. Don’t give me an excuse to drag your worthless hide into another cage.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Yeah, well. That’s about the most any of us can do.”

  Chapter 24

  Eight months later

  Eli stepped out of the Wicksham Jailhouse a free man. He’d never been to Wicksham before Saunders had delivered him there like a package wrapped up in so much rope and chain. He’d never even heard of the small town northwest of Sherman, and that didn’t matter since he never planned on going back.

  It had been a long and quiet stretch of time while he’d been locked away. Summer had turned into autumn and was now deep into winter. Throughout his days behind those particular bars, he’d met more drunks and vagrants than he could count, along with several young cowboys that had been caught in their first attempts at stealing or firing a gun at something other than an empty bottle. The sheriff there was a thickly muscled fellow named Mark Beauchamp, who, as far as Eli could tell, hadn’t drawn his pistol more than the one time it had taken for him to fire a few shots into the air on New Year’s Day. When Eli left, Mark waved and wished him well.

  Eli didn’t have anywhere else to go, so he headed down the street to a stable that rented horses so he could propose working out some sort of arrangement where he could do some odd jobs in exchange for something to ride out of town. As he started walking down the wide main street, Eli had no trouble spotting a cart drawn by one horse with two people in the seat. He approached the cart and tipped his hat to one very familiar lawman.

  “Still watching over me, Vernon?” he asked.

  Saunders nodded once and shifted in the seat. “Too cold for that. Mark’s been sending the occasional progress report my way. Heard you were a model prisoner.”

  “Would’ve been better if there was any decent food.”

  That comment was directed at the person sitting beside Saunders. Lyssa Beihn smiled and pulled her shawl a bit tighter around herself. It was bitterly cold, even for February, and specks of blowing snow hit their faces like tiny knives. “If I’d known you were here all these months, I would’ve brought you something,” she said.

  Saunders held both hands in front of his mouth, blew some steam onto his palms, and rubbed them together. “Which is why I never said a word. Eli had to serve his time properly, without anyone making it easier on him.”

  “It was easy time regardless,” Eli admitted. “Suppose I have you to thank for that.”

  “You saved my life,” the lawman said. “And you proved you deserved a second chance. Despite what some wide-eyed optimists might tell you, not everyone deserves those. While I’m on that subject, I figure you deserve this.” Saunders reached inside his coat and removed a sealed envelope, which he tossed to Eli.

  After peeking inside the envelope, Eli said, “What’s this money for?”

  “It ain’t much. It’s some of what was left from that box your friend Cody dug up.”

  “We must have spent most of that money before I got shot.”

  “All right, then. It’s some of the reward money that company was handing out for the capture of Jake, Cody, and Hank. Dead or alive. Thought you’d rather think it was from someplace else.”

  “Money’s money,” Eli said dryly. “Long as I won’t go back behind bars for taking it, it’s fine by me.”

  “Well, I thought you’d want to see another friendly face. That’s why I brought her along.” Leaning down to extend a hand, the sheriff added, “Thanks for being one of the few gambles that pays off.”

  Eli shook his hand, which brought him close enough to catch a whiff of the fragrant scents of Lyssa’s hair and skin.

  “You
two like a moment to catch up?” Saunders asked.

  Lyssa was first to reply. “I would. Very much.”

  Saunders helped her down from the seat until Eli could take her arm and make sure she didn’t slip on the cold ground. Wicksham was quiet at its rowdiest times, and since the snow had fallen, every step echoed across the frozen Kansas landscape like boulders being dropped from a cliff. Once he had the cart to himself, Saunders snapped the reins and rode down the street to have a few words with his fellow lawman.

  “So,” Eli said while walking in the opposite direction as the jailhouse, “you remembered me.”

  Stuffing her hands as deeply into her coat pockets as they could go, she replied, “I was told you were locked up, but not where. After a while, I stopped asking.”

  “And here you are.”

  Her smile was thin and shaky, but not from the chill in the air. “When Vernon told me I could see you soon, I wondered if I was crazy for being so excited.”

  “Why would that make you crazy?”

  “Because I barely know you. It was pleasant enough talking with you, but that was only a short amount of time and then you were gone. What could possibly come of some short-lived fancy that started on a whim?”

  “Doesn’t seem short-lived to me,” Eli said in a quiet voice that seemed to carry for miles in the calm, snowy breeze. “From the first moment I saw you, it seemed like you were always supposed to be by my side. I’ve heard people speak about knowing when they found someone special. That kind of joy seems like one of the only truly beautiful things left on earth, and yet when we found it, the first thing we tried to do was brush it aside.”