“They’re shooting at us!” Emily screamed. Her grip on Kathy’s waist tightened.
Kathy didn’t know what to do, and the horse started to panic.
She froze.
• • •
Clint was inside city hall when he heard the shots.
“Damn it!” he swore.
He rushed to the front doors and swung them open. As he stepped out, he saw four men at one end of the street, carrying guns. At the other end, Kathy and Emily were on their horse. He was closer to them than he was to the four gunmen, so he made a snap decision.
He stepped out into the street, drew his gun, and shouted, “Kathy! Here!”
• • •
Kathy saw Clint, saw the open front doors of city hall, and knew what she had to do. She wheeled the horse around and kicked it with her heels.
• • •
Steve Harwick saw the man come out of city hall and step into the street.
“That’s gotta be Adams,” he called out. “Get ’im!”
The four of them turned their attention—and their guns—toward him.
• • •
Clint laid down covering fire for Kathy as she rode the horse back toward him. Mostly he was making noise to scatter the four men. Kathy rode the horse right past him and into city hall. Clint then backed into the building and slammed the doors shut.
He turned and helped both Kathy and Emily down from the horse.
“Now what?” Kathy asked.
“Now get your rifle,” he said. “We have to keep those fellas out of here.”
• • •
Harwick and his men fired at Clint, but when the Gunsmith began to fire back, they scattered for cover. As soon as he backed into city hall and closed the door, they came out into the open again.
“Now we have him,” Steve said.
“Yeah,” Ned said, “but he’s in that building. How do we get him out without getting killed?”
“Well,” Steve said, “we have several options that might work, before we try the one that definitely will work.”
“Which one is that?” Ned asked.
“Burning them out.”
THIRTY-ONE
“What do we do?” Kathy asked.
“First we have to barricade the back door,” Clint said. “Go to that window and keep an eye out. If they start to come close, fire at them. I’ll be right back.”
“But—”
“It’ll be all right,” he assured her. “They’ll take some time deciding what to do.”
“Clint!” she called as he started away.
“What?”
“Can they get in by way of the roof?”
“This is the tallest building on this side of the street,” he said. “That’s not an option. Watch that window.”
“Okay.”
Clint rushed to the back door, looked around for something to block it with. He tried a couple of rooms, found a piece of furniture he thought would do the trick. It was a small wooden bookcase that fit snugly in the hall. Once it was in front of the door, the door could not be opened.
He went back to the front hall. Emily was sitting on the stairs with her face in her hands, her elbows on her knees.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I wanted to go for a ride,” she said.
“I know you did,” he said, “and you will, it’ll just be . . . later.”
He stopped, took a step back, and saw that there was a small space beneath the stairs.
“Emily?”
“Yes?”
“Come here, please.”
She came down the steps and stood in front of him.
“Were you scared when those men were shooting?” he asked.
She hesitated, then said, “Yes.”
“Well, they may start shooting again,” Clint explained. “I want you to get under here. If they start shooting again, you’ll be safe. You won’t have to be afraid.”
She stepped forward and looked under the steps.
“It’ll be like a cave,” she said. “My own special cave.”
“That’s right.”
She started to get under, then stopped and looked up at him.
“But I’ll still be afraid that you or Kathy will get shot. Is that all right?”
“That’s fine, honey,” he said. “That’s just fine.”
She nodded and got under the steps.
• • •
“What do we do now?” Ned asked.
“Take Chris and go around back,” Steve said. “Find the back door, see if you can get in.”
“And if we can?”
“Fire two shots and go in. If you do that, we’ll hit the front door.”
“And if the back door is locked?”
“Check the back thoroughly,” Steve said. “See if there’s a window we can use to get in.”
“And if there is?”
“Come back here and tell me,” Steve said, “and then we’ll make plans.”
“Okay,” Ned said. “Let’s go, kid.”
As they crossed the street and moved up the alley next to city hall, Billy said, “What do we do?”
“I’m gonna wait here,” Steve said. “You go and get all of our rifles.”
“Okay.”
“Then we’ll trying ventilatin’ city hall a bit and see how the Gunsmith reacts to that.”
Billy turned and ran. Steve Harwick rubbed his jaw and studied the front of city hall.
• • •
“What do you see?” Clint asked Kathy.
“There’s only one man out there,” she said. “The other three left.”
“How?”
“What?”
“How did they leave? Separately? Together?”
“Two of them left together, and the third one went off on his own.”
“He sent them off to do jobs,” Clint said.
“What jobs?”
“They’re probably going to try the back door,” Clint said. “I’ll go back there and check, make sure they don’t come in a window. In fact, maybe I’ll barricade the windows.”
“With what?”
“This building’s got to be filled with furniture.”
“And what do I do?”
“Same as before,” Clint said. “Watch the street. If you see anything that makes you nervous, start shooting.”
“Do I shoot to . . . um . . .”
“You shoot to kill, Kathy,” Clint said. “If you give them the chance, they’ll kill you.”
“A-All right.”
“Can you do that?”
“I’ll do it,” she promised.
“I’ll be as quick as I can,” he promised, and hoped that he would be quick enough.
THIRTY-TWO
Whoever had designed the city hall building had done so with a minimum of windows. The main floor courtroom had none, and most of the windows that were in the buildings were on the upper floors.
Clint went to the back door to watch and make sure it would hold. Somebody jiggled the doorknob, found it locked, but did not try to force the door. He peered in a back window, but Clint cut down his view by shoving a large hutch into the way.
He went around the main floor and moved furniture, covering the windows as best he could with sofas, desks, bookshelves, anything he could lean against them. Some of the items would not keep out anyone who was bound and determined to enter, but they’d make a hell of a lot of noise doing it.
He hurried back to the front hall.
“Anything?”
“One of the men came back, carrying four rifles. Then the other two came back, so now they all have rifles.”
“They might start pumping lead into here at any moment,” Clint said. “When they do, don’t try to return fire,
just duck. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“In fact, here’s what I want you to do,” he said, changing his mind. “Go upstairs and pick out a window, and watch from there. If you have to fire, you’ll have a better view from there. But don’t fire unless I do.”
“Wouldn’t we be better off with you up there?” she asked.
Actually, they would. He could probably pick off one or two of the men from up there, but if they decided to simply bust down the front door, he didn’t want to leave Kathy downstairs alone.
“You’re worried about leaving me here alone,” she said, reading his mind.
“I am,” he agreed.
“Then why don’t we just all go upstairs.”
“If we hear them breaking in down here, we’d be too far away to do anything about it.”
“But we’d be barricaded upstairs,” she said.
Clint went to a narrow front window—there was one on either side of the main doors—and looked out. The four men with rifles were standing across the street, watching, waiting. Waiting for what? For their boss to make up his mind what to do?
From an upstairs window, he’d be able to pick them off if they started across the street. He might be able to keep them pinned down. But for how long?
“All right,” he said. “Kathy, go upstairs and take Emily with you. Go to the front room that has the big desk and put her under it, or behind it. Sing out when you’re there. Then you’ll cover them while I come upstairs.”
“Okay.” She ran to the stairs, collected Emily from underneath them, and they both rushed up to the second floor.
• • •
“What are we waitin’ for?” Chris asked.
“We don’t want to go off half-cocked and get killed. According to Ned, the back door is barricaded, and so are the first-floor windows.”
“Can’t we just knock down the front door?” Billy asked.
“That’s the Gunsmith in there, Billy,” Steve said. “He’s watching us from a window with a rifle in his hands. You want to start running for the doors?”
“No.”
“Then shut up,” Steve said. “We’ll move when I say so.”
“Do we wanna wait for the others?” Ned asked.
“We might want to,” Steve said. “Right now I need somebody to cover the back. I don’t want them sneaking out. Chris, that’s you.”
“By myself?”
“Again, do you wanna rush the front door?”
“No.”
“Then cover the back. Anybody sticks their head out—anybody, and that includes the little girl—shoot it off.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Chris, if you hear shooting, just stay where you are. Understand?”
“Yessir.”
Chris trotted across the street and went down the alley to the rear of city hall.
“You really think he’d do it?” Ned asked. “Shoot the little girl?”
“I don’t know,” Steve said. “I don’t really think Adams is gonna try to sneak out the back. He’s more likely to call the four of us out into the street.”
Billy’s eyes went wide.
“Would you do that?”
“No,” Steve said. “Even if we got him, he’d kill two, maybe three of us.”
“So what do we do?” Ned asked.
“Well, first I want to pump lead into the building. Break the downstairs windows, and the upstairs windows, and fill the front doors with lead. Got me?”
“Yep,” Ned said.
“Yessir,” Billy said.
“Okay,” Steve said, lifting his rifle, “now!”
They started firing.
• • •
“Okay!” Kathy shouted. “We’re up here.”
“Watch the window. I’m coming up!”
Clint ran up the steps. Halfway up, he heard the shooting start. Lead started shattering the windows and smacking into the front doors. He looked back. He had locked the front doors, and they were heavy oak, but he was thinking maybe he should have barricaded them, as well.
But when he heard the glass breaking upstairs, and Emily screaming, he continued up to the second floor.
THIRTY-THREE
When Clint reached the front room, Emily was crouched behind an overturned desk, holding her hands over her ears, and screaming.
Kathy was crouched below the window, shattered glass glinting in her hair.
Clint hit the floor and wrapped Emily in his arms. He stayed there until the shooting stopped.
“Kathy, you hit?”
“N-No.”
“Emily, are you all right?”
“Make them stop, Clint.”
“I’m going to try, baby. For now, you stay right behind this desk. Understand?”
“Y-Yes.”
Clint stayed low and went to the window where Kathy was crouched. He peered out, saw three men across the street, reloading their rifles and their pistols.
“They’ll probably do that one more time,” he said. “We just have to stay low and wait it out. Emily, you go ahead and cover your ears, but you don’t have to scream, okay? Nothing’s going to hurt you.”
“Okay.”
And then the shooting started again. They all stayed low and waited for the men across the street to be empty. When it was over, Clint rose up, pointed his rifle, and fired . . .
• • •
Billy spun as the bullet struck him, and he hit the dirt. When Steve turned him over, he was dead.
“Damn!” he said. “Take cover.”
He and Ned got behind a horse trough.
“Jesus,” Ned said, “one shot and he got one of us.”
“Maybe not the one he wanted,” Steve said. “Or the one he should’ve killed.”
“You? Because you’re the boss?”
“Right.”
“Well, he probably hit Billy ’cause he was the biggest target,” Ned said.
“You’re probably right.”
“So what do we do now?”
“Stay behind cover, keep them pinned down and in until the others get here,” Steve said. “When we have nine men, we’ll be able to make a move.”
Ned turned and pressed his shoulders against the horse trough.
“I’m hungry.”
“Me, too,” Steve said. “When the others get here, we can eat something.”
“Well, they better get here damn quick,” Ned said, “or I’ll die of hunger.”
• • •
Clint, Kathy, and Emily munched on some cold chicken while Clint kept an eye out the window. Kathy sat with Emily behind the desk, trying to keep the child’s mind off what was happening.
He took a sip from his canteen. Kathy and Emily also had a canteen of water. He was going to have to check and see if there was a water supply inside the building.
The dead man remained in the street, where his friends seemed content to leave him. The other two were hiding behind a horse trough. The fourth one was probably covering the back door. Briefly, Clint thought about going out the back on the two horses, but it would take time to get them through the doorway, and the flying lead might hit Emily. That was a plan that had “last resort” written all over it.
All the two men out front could do was pepper the building with lead from time to time, and wait. The boss, Steve, had probably gotten to the telegraph key before Clint destroyed it, and they were waiting for help to arrive.
Two more men?
More?
Probably more, if they were getting help to move all the loot. Clint figured five or six more, men who could load and drive a wagon and, probably, shoot.
Waiting was certainly in their favor. Maybe what he should do was step out and face the three men in the street, but would they go for that?
&nb
sp; Well, he could ask.
• • •
“Kathy.”
“Yes?”
“I want you to cover this window.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going down to the door to talk to these men.”
“But . . . won’t they shoot you as soon as you step out?” she asked.
“I won’t step out,” he told her. “I’ll open the door enough to talk to them.”
“What are you going to say?”
“I’m not sure,” he said “I’ll probably decide while I’m making my way down there. Come on, take my place.”
She slid over after telling Emily to stay behind the desk and keep down.
Clint went to the door, then turned back to Kathy.
“Remember—”
“I know, I know,” she said, “shoot anybody who sticks their head up.”
“You’ve got it,” he said.
He smiled at her.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
“You better.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Clint carefully open one of the doors a crack and called out, “You in the street? Steve?”
He waited.
• • •
“Jesus,” Ned said, jumping as if he’d been struck by lightning, “he’s callin’ you by name.”
“Come on, Ned,” Steve said, “either you or Chris must’ve told him that much.”
“Hey, but—”
“Never mind,” Steve said. “Quiet. That you, Adams?” he called back.
Clint called out, “It’s me. Can we talk?”
“Go ahead,” Steve said. “Or better yet, why not step out and talk?”
“That’s okay,” Clint said. “I can hear you fine from here.”
“Whatsamatter? Don’t you trust me?”
“Afraid I don’t know you well enough yet to do that,” Clint responded.
Death in the Desert Page 9
