“You sick son of a bitch,” Sally said, her voice hoarse and cracking from lack of water. “You’re gonna pay for—”
A yell, from outside. A man’s voice. Winston snapped his head in the direction of the sound.
The door to the room opened, and the cry came again. She could hear it more clearly this time. It was Logan, and he was yelling Sturgess’s name.
Part of her was glad to know he was still alive. But another part of her was sick to think he’d just ridden back into town after her. Now they were probably both going to die.
The door to the room opened, and Sturgess was there, looking exultant. “He’s here,” he said. “Come with—” He stopped when he saw the body on the floor.
“That’s right,” Sally said. “Your little spider here killed Sheriff Hoskins. The Marshalls are gonna come now. You’re gonna hang.”
Sturgess smiled and shook his head. “Still don’t understand how the world works, do you Miss Macintosh?” He tsked at the Sheriff. “Alas, this was likely an eventuality. The man was a bit too headstrong for his own good.”
“You mean he was one of the few people in this rotten town that wouldn’t lick your boots,” Sally said. “Well maybe you’ve pushed enough people around. Maybe they’ve just about had enough, and they’re ready to push back.”
He laughed at that. “So pretty and so naïve. A charming combination.”
The yell came again from outside: “Sturgess!”
“Speaking of headstrong,” Sturgess said. “I believe it’s just about time to wrap things up.” He looked at Winston. “Come with me. We’ll deal with this later.”
They left her alone with the dead Sheriff’s body, closing the door behind them. She thought of yelling, but didn’t think it would do any good. Instead, she tried to listen, but that was no good either.
The seconds ticked by, drawing out into minutes.
Then the door burst open again, and Winston was there. He pulled his knife from his jacket and walked moved toward her, quick as a cat. She didn’t even have time to scream.
The knife swished through the air, slicing away the rope binding her legs and her chest. Her hands were still tied behind her back. Winston grabbed her by the arm and hauled her up out of the chair, dragging her from the room.
The house had been cleared. Winston walked her rapidly down a hall and into the parlor. He put the knife at her throat and walked her out the front door.
It was night. Winston pulled her up beside Sturgess, who stood looking out into the street. She followed his gaze to see Logan, standing alone there, wearing criss-crossing gun belts, his hands slack at his sides.
Her heart leapt in her chest when she saw him. He was brave, but coming here like this again was just plain dumb. She didn’t see how they’d possibly make it out alive.
“And here she is,” Sturgess said, waving at Sally. Then he turned to her. “Your man here wanted to be sure you were still alive. I saw no reason not to oblige.”
Sally looked at Logan’s hands resting near his guns. All he needed to do was draw and gun down Sturgess. But he had waited until he saw her. And now with the knife at her throat, he still couldn’t shoot. Not if he wanted her to live.
“Let her go,” Logan said. “Let’s settle this like men.”
“Oh?” Sturgess said. “And exactly how do men settle things? Men like you prefer to settle matters with your fists and guns. But why would I want to roll around in the dirt with you when I have all the power? You’re a bug, Mister Carver. A piece of dirt on my shoe.”
“How about this?” Logan said. “I’ll throw down my guns, and me and your boy there can fight it out right here in the street. If I lose, well…you at least got a show, and you didn’t lose anything.”
“And if you win?”
“You let me and Sally go,” Logan said. “And you leave us be.”
Sally didn’t see anyone else on the street, but she could feel the town, watching from curtained windows. She knew a good number of them were on the side of Sturgess as well, ready to leap to his aid if need be.
“All right,” Sturgess said. “I like that deal.” He nodded at Winston, who walked Sally over in front of him. Sally kept her eyes on Logan, who was looking for an opening that never came.
Sturgess drew his own knife and curled his arm around Sally, holding the blade at her throat. Winston let her go and stepped down off the porch.
Logan had no choice but to slowly unbuckled the belts and toss them aside in the street. As he did, Winston tossed his knife away as well.
Sally watched as the two men squared off against each other, the dim light of half a dozen lamps lighting the arena of the street.
16: Logan
He tossed his guns in the street. He’d never been able to get a shot off anyway. First Winston had a knife to Sally’s throat, then Sturgess.
And now deadly little Winston crept toward him, crouching, his hands out to his sides. Logan wasn’t sure he’d be able to beat the man, or whatever he was, in a straight-up fight. He didn’t have much choice at this point.
But he’d been busy the last ten hours, preparing for this moment. He’d done what he could, and now the chips were going to fall where they would. In the meantime, he was going to try to knock this little fucker’s head off.
Logan raised his fists in front of him, tucking in his elbows. He let Winston come to him. Winston came in low and fast, swinging a low kick that landed against Logan’s thigh.
Logan swung twice, his fists swishing through empty space, as Winston darted backwards.
I have to jab, Logan thought. He’s too fast for me to take big swings.
Winston moved in again, landing a quick blow into Logan’s stomach and following it up with another kick to the other thigh. But before he could dodge away again, Logan snapped his left fist out, landing a satisfying blow against Winston’s cheek.
The little man staggered back, but Logan couldn’t capitalize on having landed a punch. He fell back himself, winded from taking one in the gut.
Both men recovered after a few seconds, and Winston came at him again. His strategy seemed to be low, cheap shots to Logan’s body and legs. He wants to wear me down, Logan thought. That’s probably how he usually fights, grinding down his opponents with quick little attacks until they can’t reasonably fight back.
Winston jabbed twice at Logan’s body, landing one clean blow, then swung his leg for another kick. But Logan was no beginner at hand-to-hand combat. He anticipated the kick, and ducked low to grab the leg.
Then he rushed forward, grappling Winston and slamming him to the ground. Winston’s derby fell of his head and rolled a few feet before slowly coming to a stop like a top.
If he wants to buzz around me like a mosquito, Logan thought, I’ll just take that option away from him. Make him fight in the dirt, like Sturgess had said.
Logan fell on him, stunning him, and tried to pin his arms down. But Winston was much stronger than he looked. He squirmed from under Logan, getting position over him. And while Logan thought he would disengage, preferring to duck in for a few quick blows, Winston stayed locked with him on the ground. The man didn’t mind wrestling, and Logan instantly wondered if he’d made yet another mistake.
Winston scissored his legs around Logan’s waist, squeezing painfully, then flipping him over. Logan landed hard against the dirt. Pain erupted in his left shoulder.
He looked up and saw Sally with the knife at her throat. He saw Sturgess’s little black eyes, gleaming with excitement and the hint of victory.
Then his view was filled with Winston, now sitting on top of him. He had Logan’s arms pinned. He reached into his jacket and withdrew another curved knife, the blade glowing gold in the lamp light. He raised it over his head.
Logan started to laugh. “Hey, Winston,” he said. “Do you know what time it is?” He didn’t expect the man to answer. He hadn’t heard Winston say a single word. For all he knew, the man was mute.
But Winston did pause
with the knife raised. He looked comical, as he often did. With his hat off, his straw-blonde hair flopped askew. He looked like a curious little boy.
Then a sound like thunder ripped through the air. Winston turned toward the source, bright orange lighting up his face as he squinted. Logan felt hot air rush over his body and raised his head to see the plume of orange and black billowing up from the building down the street.
He used the moment to knock Winston off-balance and into the dirt. Then he was on his feet again.
Winston got up, but Logan was there, smashing into his jaw with a right hook. The little man went down hard.
As if to punctuate the blow, a second explosion erupted from the other end of town.
Sturgess, still holding the knife to Sally’s throat, stepped to the edge of the porch for a better look. “Just what the hell is going on!” he yelled.
Winston lay face down in the dirt. Logan turned and took a step toward Sturgess.
“Your little empire is coming to an end tonight,” Logan said. “That’s what’s going on. That’s the mill.” He pointed at the first explosion. “And that was your lumber depot.” A third explosion shook the ground, closely followed by another. Logan shrugged.
“You son of a bitch,” Sturgess said. “You’ll never make it out of here alive. My men will shoot you down.”
“They’re only your men because you pay them,” Logan said, raising his voice so everyone around could hear. “And now everything you own is going up in flames. I doubt they’ll really be that loyal to you.”
He saw a twisted mix of fear and rage on Sturgess’s face, a look that pleased him greatly. But Sally still had the blade at her throat, and Logan was worried the man might kill her out of spite. Then he saw something he didn’t expect. Sturgess’s expression softened, almost brightening, a smile forming on his lips as he looked over Logan’s shoulder.
The thought formed in Logan’s mind: I should have made sure he was down and out. Logan turned to see the blur of the little man, nearly upon him, knife raised.
Sally screamed, but if it was meant to be a warning, it was far too late.
Then the sound of a gunshot filled the night air. Logan saw blood spray from out of one side of Winston’s head, a shocked expression on his face. And then Winston tumbled back into the dirt for good.
Logan looked down the street in the direction the shot had come. An old man in faded red long underwear and boots stood in the middle of the street. He held an old hunting rifle in his hands, the barrel letting out a trail of smoke.
Logan looked up at the sign of the building the man stood in front of: Popper’s General Store.
So that’s Gus Popper, he thought. He tipped his hat to the old man, who narrowed his eyes and nodded back.
Other people were coming outside as well now, spilling into the street. They wanted to see what all the excitement was about. Some of the men had guns, and they didn’t look like they were on Sturgess’s side. They looked like regular townfolk, ones fed up with being pushed around. Several of them came to stand behind Logan.
He’d lost his opening to kill Sturgess, but he wondered to himself whether he even needed to anymore. Maybe ruining the man financially was good enough to alter the future.
“You’re done, Sturgess,” Logan said.
“Stay back,” Sturgess said, pressing the knife close to Sally’s throat. “I’ll kill her.”
“You do and you’ll die the instant after,” said a man to Logan’s right. He had a thick silver moustache and was hefting what looked like a giant antique pistol, aimed right at Sturgess’s head.
“Put the knife down,” Logan said, “and we’ll let you go. That’s the deal. You keep your life, but you leave Lockdale and never look back.” He’d misjudged the man before, but he didn’t think he was now. Sturgess was a bully, and damn near every bully was also a coward. He’d let Sally go if it meant saving his own skin.
“Maybe I’ll just take her with me for insurance,” Sturgess said.
“That’s not gonna happen,” Logan said. The crowd behind him was growing. “Put the knife down and we’ll let you leave peacefully. That’s the deal. You have my word.”
Sturgess looked out over the crowd. He looked white as a sheet, even in the yellow glow of the lamp light. “You people,” he said, his voice filled with contempt. “I built this town. I made it what it is.”
The crowd stared back silently, the only sound in the night air was the crackle of burning wood in the distance.
Sturgess nodded. “All right,” he said, his face sagging in defeat. He dropped the knife on the porch. Sally pushed away from him and ran down the steps into Logan’s arms. He hugged her fiercely.
Sturgess walked down the porch steps to where a gray horse was tied up. He began to untie it.
“No,” the man with the silver moustache said. “You walk out of town.”
“But it’s twenty-five miles to the next town,” Sturgess said.
“Then you better get walking,” Sally said. “It’s not as hot while the sun’s still down.”
Sturgess dropped the reins and began to walk. The crowd parted to let him pass.
Sally looked up into Logan’s face. “What just happened?” she asked.
“Good people just stood up against bad,” Logan said. “And they won.” He looked down the road at Sturgess’s slumped back as he walked away.
“What about those explosions?” Sally said. “How did you—”
“After they took you, I paid a visit to the tin mine on the edge of town,” Logan said. “I stole a wagon full of dynamite. Never worked with it before, but I do know explosives. I also robbed all the men working there, but all I took were their pocket watches.”
Sally looked confused. “I don’t understand.”
“Timing mechanisms,” the man with the moustache said. He stepped up and put out his hand to Logan. “I’m Emile Gleeson.”
Logan shook his hand. “Doc Gleeson,” he said. “Nice to meet you. And yeah, that’s right. It’s pretty easy to set up a simple timer with a pocket watch. You just attach the wires to the watch hands, and when they cross, they close the circuit.”
“Clever,” said a voice from behind. Logan turned and there was Gus Popper, the rifle now slung under his arm. He extended the other to shake Logan’s hand.
“Thanks for saving my life,” Logan said.
“Don't mentioned it," Gus said. "I’d say the whole town owes you a thanks. You and Sally.”
Someone was walking towards them, a lanky redhead with a shotgun in his hands.
“Hello, Tommy,” Sally said. “Sorry to say, but Sheriff Hoskins is inside.” She pointed up the steps. “I’m afraid he’s dead.”
A murmur rose up in the crowd.
Tommy nodded, a grim look on his face. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. He raised his voice. “You all go back home and go to bed. We’ll get this mess sorted out.”
The crowd began to disperse. Tommy looked at Sally and Logan. “You two better get going as well.”
“Will you be staying in Lockdale?” Doc Gleeson asked Logan.
“I think so,” Logan said, looking at Sally. “I’m beginning to like it here.”
Sally leaned in to kiss him. “Let’s go home.”
17: Sally
Logan took Sturgess’s horse, while Sally took Winston’s. They rode out of town, headed for her ranch, watching as the smoke billowed up from the explosions.
Logan had blown up the four cornerstones of the Sturgess empire in Lockdale: the lumber depot, the cotton mill, the granary, and the meat packing plant. None of the buildings were occupied that late at night, and they were all too far from any other buildings for fire to spread.
As if to alleviate any concerns of fire, rain began to fall. Logan and Sally looked at each other, the first heavy drops pelting down on them. They laughed.
“That was damned foolish,” she said. “What you did back there.”
“I didn’t have many options left,” he said
. “And I had to come for you.”
“Sturgess threatened to make me into a whore,” she said. She looked at him, waiting to see what he’d say. There was no good response to that, at least she thought. But he surprised her.
“Well, ma’am,” he said. “I’d say the whoring industry suffered a great loss today. But one man's loss is another man’s gain, wouldn’t you say?”
“That’s might presumptuous of you, Mister Carver.”
“I beg your forgiveness,” he said. “It was meant as a compliment.”
They laughed again. The rain began to fall harder, so they rode on in silence, getting soaked on the way back home. A flash of lightning lit up the road ahead, closely followed by the clap of thunder.
When they turned off the main road to the little one that ran to her house, the rain had started to subside.
Logan spoke up. “Oh, sorry to say, but your barn burned down. Don’t worry, though. Maisy made it out.”
They saw the old girl wandering around in front of the house, as if waiting for them to return. The barn was a pile of black ash, now black slush after the rain.
“Seems a fair trade,” Sally said. “You for the barn.”
“I’ll build you another one,” he said. “I don’t really know how, but I’m a quick learner.”
“I bet you are.”
They rode down to the house and dismounted, taking the saddles off the horses. There wasn’t a proper place to stable them, and it didn’t seem right to tie them up all night, so they left them be. If they ran off, so be it.
They went inside the house, Sally first, followed by Logan. Once inside, she turned to face him, pulling her wet blouse up over her head. Logan took her in his arms and kissed her so hard his hat fell off. She tasted the rain on his lips, felt the wet press of his sopping clothes against her bare chest.
She reached up between them and grabbed his shirt, pulling it open and ripping the buttons off. They clattered the floor. She wanted to feel his bare chest on hers. She wanted to drink him in.
The Time-Traveling Outlaw Page 13
