“You want this army to conquer the world, I take it?” Sheriff Braddock asked.
“Of course. Why else would I—”
“You got a horse’s behind for a mouth, doctor, spewing nothing but lies.” Sheriff Braddock kept his tone even and calm. “You’re even lying to yourself. You ain’t interested in conquering nothing. You just want to send your army out to kill and maraud because you like killing. I know the type. And that type would probably just wait until me and my citizens had left Hellfire’s cover before slaughtering us all.”
“Clever. Very clever, sheriff.” Dr. Angell wiggled his finger at Braddock, smiling slightly. “But there’s always the chance that I won’t slaughter you – and that’s your only hope of survival. Cling to that hope, Sheriff, and flee the town.”
“We ain’t running.” Sheriff Braddock looked back at Silver Mesa. “You get your hands on Silver Mesa, you’ll unleash your twisted army on the world and won’t nowhere be safe from it. So for the good of that world, we’ll fight you here to the last.” He turned to Cane. “I’ve fought for war all my life. Now I’m gonna try fighting for peace.”
Cane nodded. “And my guns are with his.”
“That is a regrettable answer.” Dr. Angell formed his fingers into a steeple. “I will take this town then and slaughter everyone in it. The prisoners I take will be tortured slowly and their body parts then used to make new creations that will please and amuse me.” He looked at Cane. “I will prolong the agonies of young Maxwell Coyle for as long as possible. And as for Miss Emma Finch, I will—”
“You’ve said enough.” Cane’s hand dropped to his revolver. Sheriff Braddock did the same. “You say another word – white flag or no white flag – and I’ll blast you straight to Hell.”
“And his won’t be the only gun speaking,” Braddock added.
There was silence after their threat. Dr. Angell looked from one to the other. He finally settled on Bennet. “What’s your job?”
“Newspaperman,” Bennet whispered. “Editor, publisher and star reporter of the—”
“Then I think have some headlines for you – which shall soon be inscribed on every newspaper in the world.”Dr. Angell spread out his hands, framing his words. “Hellfire massacred to the last child. Dr. Adolphus Angell declares war on the world.” He nodded to Cane and Sheriff Braddock. “I’ll return shortly,” he said and then turned on his heel and walked back into the desert, with Uriel and the other patchwork soldiers obediently following him like ducklings after their mother.
After he left, Sheriff Braddock turned to Cane. “We ought to send to the Apache and beg them for help.”
“Yeah,” Cane agreed. “Who should we send? He’ll be coming back soon and I ain’t leaving Hellfire.”
They exchanged a glance and then looked at Bennet. The newspaperman grinned feebly. “That is a fine duty,” he answered. “A very fine duty and my gifts of persuasion will be well-served.” He clapped his hands. “I’m already composing the perfect plea that will sway the savages to our side. It shall include words of strength and the brotherhood of fighting men and—”
“Just tell them Clayton Cane is asking for help.” Cane slapped his hand on Bennet’s shoulder. “And hurry.”
“Yes, o-of course. I’ll go the stables and fetch a horse.” Bennet bobbed his head and hurried off.
Cane turned to follow him. “Where you going?” Sheriff Braddock asked, still staring into the distance.
He did not receive an answer. Cane walked back into town and crossed the length of Main Street, making his way to the respectable side of Hellfire. He passed the crews of townsfolk carrying more wood to the barricade, along with extra rifles and shotguns. There were even some miners, carrying a few sticks of dynamite and Cane helped himself to one, which he slipped into his boot.
Then he went to the edge of town, where the schoolhouse stood under the shadow of Silver Mesa. It was a small house, painted brilliantly red and surrounded by a green field with a fledging garden, the flowers just starting to peek out from the dirt. Outside, Emma Finch was talking to a small crowd of children, all of varying ages. Maxwell Coyle stood next to her, looking like some little lieutenant general watching his boss address the troops.
Emma nodded to the schoolhouse. “Now, we shall go into the schoolhouse and into the basement and I will read to you, from whatever book you prefer and we’ll pray for the health and safety of your parents and my friends.” She patted Maxwell’s head. The boy beamed with pride. “And young Master Coyle here will be my assistant so if you have any troubles, let him know and we’ll come to a solution. Does everybody understand? Excellent. Now, let us go inside and make ourselves comfortable. Maxwell, if you’ll lead them?”
“Yes, Miss Finch. I’ll do my best.” Maxwell ushered the children inside, leaving Emma alone.
She looked up and noticed Cane. She sat down on the grass and waited for him to join her. He obliged, walking across the grassy lawn and sitting down. “I talked to Dr. Angell,” Cane said. “He came by again, under a flag of peace – but peace wasn’t what was discussed. He threatened you, Miss Finch and all of my friends.”
“Dr. Angell is a singularly evil man,” Emma explained. “And he is completely different from you.”
Cane rested his hands in the grass, feeling the little blades against his rough palm. “You thinking on sticking around here?” Cane asked. “After this is over – if we survive it – you want to stay in Hellfire and teach school?”
“I believe I will,” Emma agreed. “The Silver Mesa may have lent certain…strangeness to the surrounding countryside, but Hellfire is still a perfectly charming town.” She looked back at the schoolhouse. “And the children here are the same as they are elsewhere – innocent and eager to learn and full of the happiness of youth. I’ll help them, as best I can.”
“How do you do that?” Cane asked. “Just decide to change your life on a whim? And then you go on and make it work.”
“I don’t know if it does work,” Emma replied. “But I try. And I have friends, like you and dear Maxwell and others, who help me.” She reached her hand over and touched Cane’s fingers. She wrapped her thin fingers around his. He tightened his grip. “And somehow, because of their help, I persevere.”
Before Cane could respond, Coyle came racing down Main Street, his arms flailing. He struggled to stop, his eyes darting up at Emma and Cane. Cane quickly removed his hand from Emma’s and placed it on the handle of his revolver.
Coyle paused for breath. “They’re here!” he shouted. “The airship landed at the entrance to Hellfire! The troops are disembarking! They’ve brought cavalry!” His eyes were full of panic. “Is Maxwell safe, Miss Finch?”
“He’s in the basement with the others. He’s been most helpful.” Emma came to her feet, quickly, smoothing her dress and she looked at Cane. “I must attend to the children,” she said.
“Yeah,” Cane agreed, already pulling the rifle from the sling on his back. “And I must attend to the war. Stay safe.” Cane touched the brim of his hat and then ran down to join Orestes. Gunfire was already cracking off through the still Texas air. It was nearly high noon now and Cane could think of no better time for the battle to take place.
At the barricade, the men of Hellfire and Tarantula’s banditos stood ready, their guns aimed up at the approaching patchwork army. Cane ran to join them, hurrying to stand next to Tarantula and Sheriff Braddock. He stared ahead, over the barricade at the charging ranks of the enemy. He felt his heart sink. They were heavily outnumbered and the patchwork men marched forward with the dull clockwork fearlessness of dedicated troops. They wouldn’t stop their attack until every one of them was dead – or their enemies had all been slaughtered. Cane raised his rifle and took aim. The others did as well, but only a few snipers cracked away from the buildings above the barricade. They were waiting for the order.
Then Dr. Angell’s cavalry appeared, fanning out on both sides of the infantrymen. It only took Cane a second to realiz
e that the patchwork men weren’t riding on horses. Or at least, the creatures they rode were only partly composed of horses. Dr. Angell had fused and grafted pieces from dozens of different animals onto his riders’ steeds, giving some the snorting, horned heads of rhinos, while others charged on the padded feet of tigers. Cane saw horses with the curling heads and upper bodies of pythons or the manes and jaws of lions. This mismatched, freakish cavalry headed straight for the barricade.
“Fire!” Sheriff Braddock shouted the order. “Give them hell! Teach them it don’t pay to mess with Hellfire!” He brought his own rifle to his shoulder and pulled the trigger, blasting down the foremost patchwork cavalryman and knocking him from the saddle. He worked the bolt on his long rifle and fired again.
Hellfire’s defenders joined him, pouring in a volley of lead that laid low dozens of the strange cavalry. Cane heard the animal bleats and snarls of a dozen different beasts, as the strange horses died and collapsed into the dirt. But there were more riders behind them, still coming to the barricade. They fired away with carbines and revolvers and men dropped behind the barricade. A fellow with a thick beard and a tattered checkered coat fell next to Cane, clutching his bleeding arm.
“Easy there, my friend! I’ve got you!” Coyle grabbed the wounded Hellfire citizen and helped him up. “This way to the infirmary and the greatest medical aid and potions of healing to ever grace a hospital!” Even helping the wounded in the middle of a firefight, Coyle couldn’t help shouting his advertisements.
As Angell’ cavalry charged, Cane raised his own repeating rifle and blazed away. He felt the familiar recoil as his rifle cracked and patchwork men and their animals died in front of him. Their bodies tumbled into the dust and Cane kept firing, keeping up a stream of lead that cut down Angell’s soldiers before they reached the barricade. Dust rose in thick clouds from the falling bodies.
But he couldn’t hold back the tide. The cavalry reached the barricade, a horse with the horned head of a bull crashing its way through the wagons and barrels and hurling them aside as it bellowed. A rifle shot tore out its throat, but the damage was done. The barricade had been broken. The other mismatched horses and their riders followed it through the gap, eager to do more damage. Cane heard the clatter of carbines and saw cavalry sabers rising to hack down Hellfire’s champions.
It was chaos after that, with gunfire and spurts of blood in the clouds of dust. A Hellfire man next to Cane lunged back, a bleeding slash carved across the length of his chest. More went down, impaled by a rhino’s horn or torn apart by tiger claws. Cane stepped back, keeping his rifle at the ready and firing at the dusty gray uniforms he saw. It brought him back, this whirlwind of dust and steel, to countless battles he fought in his previous lives. Hellfire was Antietam and Gettysburg and Chickamagua, all cast in a funhouse mirror of monstrous soldiers and horses.
He saw the horse with the head of a snake and the paws of a panther coming through the dust, the serpentine head reaching out with fangs barred. The rider on the freakish beast’s back raised his carbine to fire. Cane shot first, knocking the rider off his horse. But the snake-headed monster charged on, rising up on its hind legs to slash down with his claws. Cane swung to the side, but a claw still slashed across the length of his arm and drew blood. The snake’s head coiled and prepared to strike but Cane’s rifle fired again and the long neck split in a shower of hot blood. The horse took another halting step and died.
Tarantula was shouting near Cane’s ears. “Have some of this, you pendejos!” he roared, a revolver blazing away in each hand. He planted a bullet in the skull of the rhino-headed horse, causing the clumsy animal to slump hard in the dust. “You will never kill Tarantula with your mixed-up animals or ugly soldiers!” He paused and looked up at Cane, his tooth gleaming in the dark. “Ah. Hello, Mosaico. Making your presence known, I see?”
Before Cane could respond, a dismounted patchwork rider ran towards them, his cavalry saber held high. Cane swung his rifle to the side and drew out one of his pistols. He fired once, his shot shattering the skull of the scarred soldier and spewing brains out in the dust.
“Yeah,” Cane agreed, returning his revolver to his holster. “But we ain’t doing too well.”
Sheriff Braddock stepped next to Cane, his rifle held weakly in his hands. He fired again, but the recoil seemed to shake his whole body. Braddock’s shot tore into the open mouth of a snarling tiger-headed horse, bringing the whole monster down. Braddock gasped for air and looked at Cane. There was blood leaking from his shoulder.
“Sheriff—” Cane started.
“We gotta fall back,” Braddock muttered. “We’ll run to my office. Use the Gatling gun.” He gritted his teeth and looked up at Cane. “You’ll have to help me, Cane, with the gun.” He sounded like he hated admitting each word. “And to sound the retreat. I just don’t think I got the strength.”
Cane looked into Braddock’s eyes. He liked the old sheriff. They were men of the same breed. “Yeah,” Cane agreed and clamped his hand on the sheriff’s shoulder. He raised his voice. “Fall back to the trenches!” he shouted. “Covering fire from the houses, then get in the goddamn trench and keep your heads down!”
Then he, Tarantula and Sheriff Braddock were pounding down the street, the survivors of the first attack running after them. Tarantula and Hellfire’s men dove into the trench, grabbing the extra guns that been put there and reloading as the remnants of Dr. Angell’s cavalry charged after them, with the patchwork infantry close behind. It was a dangerous move, showing their backs to the enemy and several Hellfire men went down from gunfire. The snipers kept sinking shots into the horde of patchwork riflemen, but it did little to thin their numbers. Hopefully, the Gatling gun would.
They reached the trench, Cane and Braddock leaping over the gap while Tarantula snatched up a shotgun and poured fire into the charging patchwork soldiers. Cane glanced up and saw the Gatling gun, sitting right outside the door to Braddock’s office, near the table where he had his morning coffee. He ran for it, Sheriff Braddock close behind.
Behind them, the men in the trench were taking fire as the last of Angell’s freakish cavalry fell. The infantry followed, marching in neat rows and leveling their rifles to deliver a volley. The shots kicked up dust all around Cane and Braddock, but they still reached the Gatling gun and spun it around. Cane worked the crank while Braddock took aim.
“Now!” Cane shouted. The patchwork men were clumped up before the trench, presenting a perfect line of dusty gray targets. Sheriff Braddock couldn’t miss if he tried. Braddock leaned on the trigger and the Gatling gun began to chatter away, shooting an endless blaze of lead into the ranks of Angell’s army. The heavy bullets tore apart the bodies Angell had sewn up, splitting open limbs or ripping through flesh.
The Gatling gun roared away and patchwork men crumpled before it. Sheriff Braddock’s eyes were cold as he swept the Main Street with death, and his lips had curled back to reveal his teeth. He seemed like an angry wolf, who wanted to leap into the fray and finish his enemies with teeth and claws. Looking at the sheriff as he worked the Gatling gun, Cane did not doubt that Sheriff Braddock was a killer who had ridden with Glanton’s scalp-hunters.
“Mr. Cane!” Coyle shouted, louder than the gunfire of the Gatling gun. He was poking his head out from the infirmary in the bank and pointing to the sky. “Up there! It appears Angell is impatient!”For the whole battle, Cane had kept his eyes on the ground, but now he risked a glance up, following Coyle’s finger.
The Archangel hovered low over Hellfire. The airship flew close to the ground, so that its hull brushed against the roofs of Hellfire’s buildings. Its shadow fell over Angell’s army, but it was floating forward like a soaring bird of prey. On the foredeck, right above the figurehead, some of Dr. Angell’s patchwork men had set up an artillery piece and the cannon was already swinging down to face one of Hellfire’s saloons. Cane heard the cannon roar and the saloon’s upper story crumpled in a shower of splintering wood and flame. The snipe
rs inside wouldn’t have had the time to flee. Then the cannon turned to Cane, Braddock and the Gatling gun.
“Run!” Cane grabbed Braddock’s arm and yanked him back, just as the cannon thundered again. The shot struck the Gatling gun, blasting it to scrap and knocking Cane and Sheriff Braddock into the air. They fell down hard, rolling in the dust. Cane lost his rifle as he fell and he came up with a pistol in each hand.
Braddock still had his long rifle. “Cane!” he shouted. “Watch—” And then the rifle thundered in his hand as a blast of lead walloped his chest and tossed him back into the dirt. Cane saw blood pooling under his suit and watched the rifle fall from his hand. There was no way Braddock could have survived that.
Cane turned to see who had fired the shot. It had come from the deck of the low-flying Archangel. Uriel was there, standing near the railing, already sliding a new shell into his heavy shotgun. Uriel looked down at Cane and grunted. He raised the shotgun again and fired.
There was only a second to act. Cane jumped to the side, throwing himself into the dirt as the shotgun thundered and sent a shell whistling over his head. Cane lay on the ground and looked up, just in time to see a pair of heavy boots slamming into the dirt before. Cane looked up. Uriel had leapt down, falling from the moderate height with no trouble at all. Uriel growled. The giant tossed aside his shotgun and raised his hands. That was his weapon of choice. Cane scrambled to his feet.
There was no time for a revolver. Uriel swung his fist into Cane’s chest, connecting with the power of a cannon ball. Cane stumbled back, his vision spinning. He grabbed the handle of his sword and pulled it from his belt. “You killed the sheriff,” Cane hissed. “I wish I had the time to kill you slow.” He hacked out with the saber, swiping the blade across Uriel’s face. It cut open the giant’s scarred cheek and would have kept going, if Uriel didn’t reach up and grab the blade with one hand.
The Road to Hellfire Page 18
