Billy started toward him, but again the huge rifle boomed and more of the ceiling fell down. Billy ducked back and yelled for Schmidt to drag William to cover. The saloon keeper grumbled, but he reached out and got William by the collar and dragged him behind the rough bar.
Billy asked, “Now what?”
McGraw, looking worried said, “Crawl to the door. See if they can hear you in the barn.”
Up on the slopes, Saulter had changed his position again. He’d ridden around to where the hills broke for the little road that led into the town. Looking at the settlement, he could see the door of the barn open cautiously. Quickly he raised his rifle and fired. Splinters flew from the barn door and it was quickly shut.
Over in the women’s house Letty and the others were in the front room looking out the windows. They instinctively flinched as Saulter’s rifle boomed out. One of them asked Letty what they should do.
“Do?” Letty looked around at her in annoyance. “What the hell are you talking about? We sit and wait.” Under her breath she said lowly, “But you better damn well pray that Saulter wins.”
The inside of the saloon was beginning to disintegrate. There was debris all over the floor from the damaged roof and the blown out windows. Some of the bullets did not plow directly into the floor but instead hit it at such an angle that they glanced off and ricocheted wildly before finally embedding themselves in the plaster walls. Billy had turned over one of the heavy tables and pulled it over behind McGraw, him and the other gunman as protection against the ricochets. He called across the bar to Schmidt, “How’s William? He holding on?”
Schmidt said from behind the bar. “He’s gonna die pretty damn quick. His face is all white.”
“Can’t you do something?” Billy called back. “Can’t you put a tourniquet on his leg or something?”
Schmidt gave a shrug. “Wouldn’t do no damn good. You ought to see all this blood on the floor. He ain’t got none left to keep in him.”
Billy turned to McGraw. “This is getting out of hand. We got to do something. We stay pinned up in here and he’s going to pick us off like a turkey shoot.”
The panic stronger in his voice, McGraw said, “We’ve got to get him quick. Before he can destroy our plans.”
“Plans?” Billy looked doubtful. “I just want out of here alive. Mister McGraw, they ain’t but five of us left, counting you.”
McGraw looked at him, blinking rapidly. “Five? Five men is all?”
“Yessir. He’s killed four. If William is dead.”
“This is not possible!” McGraw said. “It is not possible. I don’t understand what has happened.”
At the head of the street Saulter had decided on a more direct course of action. He all of a sudden spurred his horse to a run and came cutting up the road. Just before he got to the saloon he slipped over the side of the saddle. He had his right leg hooked over the top of the horse’s rump, while his left leg was wrapped around underneath the horse’s neck. With his left arm he held the saddle horn and the end of his rifle. He had his rifle laid across the saddle in a firing position. He came dashing by the saloon. As he passed, he fired, hitting the door at the latch. The huge bullet burst the lock and blew the door half off its hinges.
Inside, the men jumped as the door came flying open.
“Mein Gott!” Schmidt yelled.
McGraw said, “Get back there and signal for them to bring the horses. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Billy crawled rapidly to the back door. Yelling and firing his pistol he was able to attract the attention of one of the men who stuck his head cautiously out the barn door.
“Bring horses!” Billy yelled. “And come.”
“Now?” The man looked frightened.
“Yes,” Billy called back.
At that moment Saulter came dashing back the other way. Again his rifle boomed and a huge shell crashed into the door, this time completely carrying it away. It fell in a shower of splinters and Billy instinctively jumped sideways. Then he got up and sprinted back to the window.
“He’s going to be in here in a minute.”
McGraw was beginning to look frightened. “A quarter of a million dollars,” he said. “A quarter of a million dollars! Money!”
“What quarter of a million dollars?”
McGraw turned savagely on him. “That’s what this job is worth. And this gun tramp is ruining it. Goddammit, we’ve got to kill him quick.” He whirled, looking wildly around. “What is holding up those men? Billy, get to the back door and look for them.”
Billy crawled cautiously to the door. Another shot boomed out and the bottles behind the bar suddenly exploded.
“I am shot!” Schmidt screamed. He raised up, blood streaming down his face from cuts from the flying glass. He yelled at McGraw, “You get out! You hear? You get out right now!” McGraw whirled and snapped off another shot at him, but it too missed as he disappeared down behind the bar.
Billy called. “They about ready. They got the barn door open.”
Saulter had ridden on around the little circle of hills until his position was slightly behind the saloon. But he was still far enough toward the front that he could see the front of the barn. He saw the doors swing open and knew instinctively what was happening. “Not likely,” he said half aloud. He was reloading and he completed the work quickly and then took another shell from his satchel and stuck it in his mouth like a brass cigar, anticipating the need for fast work. Then he saw a figure at the back door of the saloon, signaling to the men in the barn. It would be an easy shot and he quickly raised his rifle. But over his sights something about the vague figure made him recognize Billy, and he slowly lowered his rifle. “All right. That makes us even,” he muttered to himself.
He switched his attention to the barn. He had his rifle up and was ready when the two gunmen hidden there suddenly came bursting out on horseback. They had two other horses in lead. It was only fifty yards to the saloon, but they had the horses at a dead run, riding low in the saddle and quirting and slashing at their mounts. Saulter took aim on the lead man and fired, the rifle pounding back into his shoulder with that heavy recoil few men could have withstood for long. The shot missed the man, but hit the horse, and animal and man went down in a tangle. The other rider swept on by, heading for the back of the saloon. Saulter reloaded quickly. In the pause the downed rider had made it to his feet and was sprinting for the door. Saulter got his sights on him and followed along, letting him get almost to the door before he fired. The shell caught the man squarely in the back and catapulted him through the opening. Its force was such that he skidded halfway across the floor. He came to rest only a few feet from McGraw.
McGraw stared aghast at the figure on the floor. Blood briefly pulsed a foot high out of the dead back and then subsided into a rapidly growing pool on the floor.
The other man had made it safely to shelter and he came racing through the door and threw himself down beside McGraw. “We’re in a storm!” he cried.
Billy suddenly broke from the door and raced to the group under the window. “Two of the horses got away. You didn’t tie them good.” He looked at the man who had survived the ride from the barn.
“You goddam right!” the man shouted at him. “Like to see you standin’ there tyin’ square knots with that fucking artillery blasting away at you!”
“Point is,” Billy said, “they ain’t but two horses now. Two got away and Saulter shot one.” He ducked as another shot whistled through the roof. “But personally, somebody can have mine. I don’t think we’d get a hundred yards before that man picked us off. I saw him get Runt at a dead run and he’s got to be six hundred yards away.” He looked over at the dead man in the middle of the floor. “We’re in real trouble, Mister McGraw.”
“I can see that!” McGraw snapped wildly. His cool air of aloof command had completely disintegrated now. His every word was high and frightened.
“Job’s done for, anyway.”
“I’ll de
cide that,” McGraw snapped shrilly.
“Just us four now,” Billy said. “Wonder if that man would accept a surrender. Unconditional.”
“Shut your mouth!”
McGraw raised his head to peer cautiously out over the window ledge, forgetting that the shots were now coming from the rear. Saulter reminded him of his position with a shot that tore the back door loose from its hinges. In a moment there was another shot and the door fell to the floor.
“McGraw,” Billy said urgently, for the first time neglecting to use the Mr., “we got to get out of here. He’s going to shoot this damn place down! ”
Even as he spoke vagrant afternoon winds began to whip drift snow through both open doors and through the holes in the roof. It spread slowly across the floor in a thin layer. And the fire, which had been untended for some time, had died down so that the cold was entering steadily.
The gunman who’d brought the horses said, “I wisht it was dark. We could make a break then. How long ya figure?”
Billy said, “Two hours at least.”
McGraw asked tensely, “Anyone know where he is now?”
Saulter had come back around to the front of the saloon. He sat on his horse and studied the place. Then he too glanced up at the sky, estimating the sun’s position and how much time he had before nightfall. He sat there wishing he knew how many of them there were left. He could only count on three for sure, four counting Tomlain. That left five of them, including McGraw, but not including Schmidt. But he felt—he had to believe—that he’d done some damage with the blind shots he’d been firing through the roof. There would be ricochets off the oaken floor and the plaster walls and ricochets had to eventually hit someone. Resting, he noticed how tired he was and how he ached and hurt. He had fired his big rifle more and faster than ever before in such a short span of time, and his shoulder had taken a terrific pounding. It was taking all his will and determination now not to instinctively flinch when he pulled the trigger. He didn’t know how many more times he could fire it. And his side was hurting him. It was healing and he no longer felt that sick weakness, but the wrenching he’d given it with the riding and the shooting had moved the ends of his broken ribs around and they stabbed him afresh with each new movement.
He was worried about night coming on. If he hadn’t finished them off by dark he might be in trouble. He had to keep them bottled up, not allow them to scatter, for once they did he’d no longer be in control. He would have to spend the night in the women’s house, for he couldn’t survive outside in the cold, but if he did that they would know it by morning and then he’d be the one surrounded. He could just ride away, but he had no intention of leaving Letty, not so long as there was one assassin left alive or unfettered.
So he sat there trying to think of some plan to determine what he was still facing. Everyone might be dead for all he knew.
In the saloon Billy raised his head up cautiously and peered out. He located Saulter on the little hummock. “He’s back around on our side. Just out in front and a little around to the left.” He watched another moment and then said urgently, “Get down! He’s fixing to fire.”
There was a loud boom and then another bullet came through the roof. They heard it strike the front of the fireplace and come singing off the rock. Then the gunman who’d brought the horses suddenly said, “Ohhh!” and fell over, the back of his head gone. Blood sprayed out and McGraw caught some of the mist on his white shirt front. He looked down at it in dismay and then quickly drew away from the spreading puddle on the floor.
“Well, that’s three,” Billy said matter-of-factly. “Me, you, and Jackhammer. And if you want to talk about gunhands that leaves two. Me and Jack.” He looked at McGraw. “I seen you shoot at Schmidt twice and you ain’t even hit that fat sonofabitch.”
“Shut up,” McGraw said automatically.
“I will,” Billy said, “if you’ll think of something for us to do. You’re supposed to be the boss.”
McGraw said, “I think we’re going to surrender.”
Jackhammer said, “Bullshit.”
Billy said, “Good luck.”
“Billy,” McGraw said tensely.
“Sir?”
“Take this.” McGraw pulled out a large white handkerchief. He handed it to Billy. “Take that out there and wave it at him. Tell him you surrender.”
Billy shook his head. “Not very damn likely.”
“Do what I say!”
“No thank you. I don’t think our Mister Saulter would accept a surrender.”
“We’re not going to surrender, you fool. I just want you to draw him down here in rifle shot. Now take this handkerchief and go on. We’ll have him covered.”
But Billy shook his head. “He’ll shoot me down minute I go out that door.”
“No he won’t,” McGraw insisted. “He’s a gentleman.”
“Yes, and he’s been pushed about as far as he’ll go. He ain’t going to fall for something like that, anyway.”
“Tell him you’re the only one left. That everyone else is dead. Tell him you want to surrender. You just have to draw him a little closer. He’s almost in rifle range now.”
“McGraw, I tell you he ain’t going to fall for it. He’s smart.” Billy raised his head cautiously to take another look at Saulter. He was in the same place, some six hundred yards away, just sitting on his horse. As Billy watched, Saulter raised his rifle and fired again. More of the ceiling came down and the ricochet wound around and buried itself in the wall post a foot to their right.
The third man said, “He’s going to freeze us out if nothing else.”
Billy said, “Why should he come down? He’ll make me come up.”
McGraw thought for a moment. Finally he turned and slid to where the dead gunman lay. McGraw, with an effort, tore the back out of his blood-soaked shirt. He worked his way back over to Billy and rubbed the blood on Billy’s pants leg. Billy jerked away. “Here, what are you doing?”
“Hold still,” McGraw ordered. He finished rubbing the blood on. “Limp when you go out. Tell him you’re wounded.”
Billy said, “You’re crazy. It won’t work.”
“Start up toward him and then fall down. Act like you can’t walk. He’ll have to come down. Just a hundred yards and we’ve got him.”
“I’m not going to do it,” Billy said. “He’ll shoot me on sight.”
“I’ll give you two hundred dollars.”
“No,” Billy said.
McGraw looked at him steadily. “I’ll give you five hundred.”
Billy was uncertain. “Five hundred?”
Jackhammer said, “Hell, I’ll do it for that, Mister McGraw.”
But McGraw went on looking at Billy. “No, I think he’ll be more friendly with Billy. He knows he talked up for him. Saved his skin. Didn’t you, Billy?”
“It seemed like the right thing at the time,” Billy said, looking down.
“Five hundred.”
“Cash?”
“Yes.”
“Give it to me.”
“It’s over in the women’s house. I’ll pay you as soon as we’re rid of Saulter. Well? We wouldn’t be in this fix if it weren’t for you.”
“Oh hell,” Billy said in resignation. He rolled to his hands and knees. “Gimme that handkerchief.”
Holding the handkerchief in one hand and his rifle in the other he crawled along the wall to the door. Looking back over his shoulder he said, “Just you don’t forget you owe me that five hundred. And you make sure before you fire.” He turned back to the door. Cautiously he stuck his head in the opening, frantically signaling with the handkerchief.
Up on the knoll, Saulter straightened in the saddle. His eyes narrowed as he studied the surrender flag. He raised his rifle.
Cautiously, Billy slowly eased out in the door, desperately waving the handkerchief. He raised himself in the doorway, calling out, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”
Saulter peered down the sights of his rifle at h
im. Billy took a hesitant step out on the porch. He had both hands over his head, the handkerchief in one, his rifle in the other. He took another step, faking the limp, and threw his rifle out in the snow. Before moving, he called back to the door, in a hoarse whisper, “Don’t you shoot till you’re sure. You hear? Don’t you miss him!”
He took another limping, hesitant step forward. Looking up at Saulter he called, “I surrender. They’re all dead. And I’m wounded.”
Saulter didn’t answer. Just stared at him over the sights of his rifle.
Billy kept coming one slow step and then another. “I can’t walk!” he called. “You’ve nearly blowed my leg off.”
Letty was peering through the curtains of the house at the little drama. “What the hell? Look there, Flora, can you see a head behind that window? Look close.”
Carefully, faking the limp very effectively, Billy stepped down off the porch. He took two steps out in the snow, waving his flag. “Saulter! Help me! I’m bleedin’ to death.” He walked a few more steps then appeared to stagger. Clutching at his leg, the one with the blood smeared on it, he suddenly pitched forward in the snow. Saulter slowly lowered his rifle. Billy rolled over, clutching his leg, waving his surrender flag. “Saulter! Help me!” He made as if to rise, struggling up on his mock wounded leg, and then collapsed back in the snow. He was sure now Saulter wasn’t going to shoot him. “Please,” he called, “please, for god’s sake! I’m all that’s left. You’ve wiped us out!”
In the saloon McGraw was peering over the ledge, just at the corner of the window.
The other gunman asked tensely, “He coming yet?”
“Not yet,” McGraw said. “But he looks like he’s going to. He’s not going to shoot.”
The gunman said, “Listen to old Billy, would you? Boy, he’s really playactin’. I’d never knowed he had it in him.”
McGraw said sharply, “Be ready with your rifle. He could come at any second.”
The Sunshine Killers Page 12
