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horse staggered as he peeled from the saddle. A bullet slammed into his left shoulder, spinning him into the shadows of a building's front. He scrambled behind a wooden barrel, his left arm hanging limp. His pulse was striking hard in his neck, his breath coming short and fast as Benteen scanned the opposite side of the street and tried to locate his own men. There was a lull in the firing, no more shooting blindly. Riderless horses cantered down the street to escape the noisy fracas. His left arm was useless, so he tucked his hand inside the waistband of his pants. Jessie was sprawled flat on the ground between a horse trough and the raised board sidewalk. There was the scrape of a boot behind him. Benteen sent a short look to the sound. Bull Giles was dragging a leg as he tried to sit up in a recessed doorway. He couldn't see Woolie or Bob Vernon, but there weren't any bodies in the street. If Woolie hadn't warned them, they would have been caught flat-footed. Chances are they'd all be lying in the street now. Benteen's gaze returned to the buildings on the opposite side of the street, searching for shapes in the night. He noticed a strange thing. All the windows in the second story of the saloon had lights in them-all but one. It was dark, and the window was open. Page 187 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html Benteen could see the curtain blowing out. He fired three rounds into it and saw a man slump over the sill, a gun falling from his hand. But he'd also given away his own position. Bullets whacked into the barrel and sprayed the building just above his head, pinning him down. Then Bull opened fire along with Jessie, aiming for those bursts of flame across the street. Benteen made a break for the alley, crouching low against the building. There'd been a man waiting there to ambush them, so he came around the corner, expecting to be met. The cowboy was slumped forward on his knees, a hand holding the back of his bare head as he groaned and made an uncoordinated attempt to rise. "My head . . ." he moaned, "I feel funny," and slithered to the ground, unconscious. There was the rattle of a buggy coming down the street. Benteen flattened himself against the alley wall. Confusion traveled through him when he recognized the man in the bowler hat and business suit driving the buggy. Judd Boston. From across the street, Loman Janes's voice called, "Get out of the way! We got Calder pinned down!" Boston stopped the buggy in the middle of the street, sawing on the reins to hold his nervous horse. "You fool! You imbecilic fool!" Then he stood up in the buggy and faced the other side of the street. "Calder! This is not my doing! Janes is acting on his own! I had nothing to do with this or anything else!" He proclaimed his innocence for all to hear. "You yellow bastard!" Janes growled from the shadows. Two shots were fired, one on top of the other, and Boston fell back onto the buggy seat, the horse bolting. Benteen took advantage of the runaway vehicle's distraction to make a dash across the street. He reached the other side and ducked down behind a rain barrel. His shoulder was throbbing, wetness trickling down his arm. Licking his dry lips, he remained poised and listening to pinpoint the location of his adversaries by sound. Boston was either dead or out of it, but it wasn't over. As much as he disliked Loman Janes, Benteen felt a certain degree of respect for the man. He had his standards and he'd stick by them to the end. He'd brought the fight to Benteen, and it wouldn't be over until one of them was dead. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he shook it off. There was a scurry of movement. Benteen swung away from the barrel, squared toward the sound, and fired. He quickly moved to the left toward the building. His shots had missed, but they had driven a man away from the protection of a wide door frame. It was the gunhand Reynolds. He fired from the hip at Benteen's moving target. One sliced a hot iron along his thigh. His leg started to buckle as Benteen fired at the man's shape, briefly outlined. The hammer clicked on an empty chamber, but Reynolds was falling. A cold smile of satisfaction had curved Janes's lips when the rig with Judd Boston had bolted down the street. The bastard had been putting all the blame on him to save his own skin, and he got what he deserved. All Janes had was a glimpse of the figure that crossed the street in the wake of the buggy. He was sure Calder had been positioned somewhere close to the alley. It had to be him. Giles had got it in the leg and couldn't possibly run. The other three were up the street. He had made a hunting search of the shadows where Calder had to be hiding and decided he had to be using the rain barrel. It hadn't occurred to Janes to warn Reynolds that Calder had made it to this side of the street. His sole interest had centered on getting rid of Calder, then Giles. There was a gap between the two buildings behind Janes just wide enough for a thin man to squeeze through. He had faded into it to slip around the building so he could slip up on Calder from the side. He had circled the building and was sneaking up the side when he heard the sudden sharp exchange of gunfire and the thud of a body falling. He paused to Page 188 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html listen, guessing that it had been Reynolds who got it. With his left arm useless, reloading would be too slow. Benteen leaned against the building and slid the revolver into his holster, reaching for the spare gun in his waistband. Across the street, he saw Bull Giles standing sideways behind an upright post, but he couldn't see where any of the others were. Benteen didn't have the vantage of Bull Giles's position. At first Bull wasn't certain the outline he saw at the corner of the building was a man. It moved slightly. The cold realization ran through him that the narrow shape belonged to Loman Janes. Somehow he'd slipped behind the building to sneak up behind Benteen. Bull's glance swept back to Calder, wondering if he was aware he was being stalked from behind. It was impossible to tell if he knew, although Bull suspected he didn't. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but nothing came out. If Benteen died, Lorna would be a widow. The ugly thought came to him unbidden. He clamped his mouth shut, hating himself. He had left it too late for a warning. Janes was coming away from the corner shadow to make his ambush of Calder. Benteen began to inch along the side of the building, his ears straining for sounds other than the loudness of his own breathing and the rush of blood through his veins. There was a sudden movement across the street as Bull stepped from behind the post, exposing himself. "Janes!" Bull shouted the challenge and fired. A gun cracked behind Benteen, and he whirled to face Loman Janes. In the span of slow seconds, he thought of Lorna and home as he fired his gun. He watched Janes's gun kick up from its first shot that went wide with Benteen's turning. The barrel steadied on him again as Benteen fired the second time and heard his shot strike home. There was a quick, small cough from Janes. Surprise went through his eyes as he began to tip backward. He fell against the rain barrel and slowly slid to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
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