Outlaw Express Page 11

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  In a flash, Alec realized that if Houston was in Dronfield, then the others probably were too; he had to deal with Houston as quickly and as quietly as possible, to avoid attracting their attention. Which meant he couldn’t use his gun. Acting as fast as he thought, Alec caught his balance and delivered a powerful kick straight to Houston’s groin. Houston gave a strangled yelp and folded, clutching himself. Alec swivelled and pushed him face-first onto the sidewalk, then delivered a sharp kick to his head. He bent, and was reaching for Houston’s gun when someone yelled.

  ‘Hey, mister, what the hell are you doing? Leave him alone.’

  Alec looked up at the man: a stranger, and unarmed. ‘Law business,’ he snapped.

  ‘I don’t see no badge,’ the neatly-dressed man called back. He was a couple of doors down from the telegraph office, out front of a saloon.

  Alec mentally cursed himself. He usually wore his badge proudly for all to see. The last few weeks, he’d had to keep it hidden, but had never stopped thinking of himself as a law officer. He’d got out of the habit of wearing a badge and wasn’t yet back in his normal life; the badge had slipped his mind. He couldn’t be surprised at this officious man doubting his word.

  ‘My name’s Sheriff Lawson. I’m also a deputy US marshal.’

  ‘Where’s your badge then, Sheriff?’

  After a quick glance at the moaning Houston, Alec unbuttoned the top of his coat to reach inside for his badge to display it. With his senses on high alert, he spotted movement in the doorway of the saloon where the stranger was. The door had opened slightly and something protruded from within, breaking the outline of the door. A brief glimpse was enough to warn Alec. He threw himself sideways, almost over Houston, and rolled across the sidewalk to drop into the snowy street, as the gun in the doorway fired.

  Horses tethered nearby shied and snorted at the noise. As Alec scrambled to hands and knees, he heard O’Leary shouting.

  ‘I got him. I got the bastard!’

  Drawing his gun, Alec knelt by the sidewalk, using Houston as added cover. Houston was stirring, reaching for his own gun. Alec lunged to his feet and reached over him, grabbing the Colt. He heard O’Leary’s shout and ducked back as a shot cracked over his head. Houston yelled an inarticulate protest towards O’Leary, who was now on the sidewalk outside the saloon door, Alcott behind him. The interfering stranger had sensibly fled when the shooting started. Houston rolled away from Alec, towards the wall of the telegraph office, as O’Leary fired another shot. That one tore up a length of sidewalk, and set a nearby horse plunging and pulling at its reins.

  Crouching beside the sidewalk, Alec fired fast shots with both guns. Houston’s Colt was the Cavalry model, longer and heavier than the Artillery Colt he used. He knew he didn’t stand much chance of hitting anything with it, especially in his off hand, but that wasn’t his intention. He just fired a succession of shots back at O’Leary, who yelled, and dived for cover inside the saloon, which was all that Alec wanted at that moment. As soon as O’Leary was inside, Alcott yanked the door shut.

  Alec put Houston’s gun on the sidewalk and quickly switched fresh bullets into his own, all the time making quick glances at Houston and the front of the saloon. While he had his hands full, Houston staggered up and scrambled into the telegraph office. Alec cursed under his breath, but didn’t waste time taking a shot at the unarmed man. He’d just got the last round chambered when he glimpsed movement behind the painted saloon window, and the glass was broken from the inside.

  Without stopping to think, Alec ducked. Shots were fired from the saloon, leaving the smell of gunpowder in the crisp air. A horse tethered outside the saloon by its reins, pulled back so hard it pulled its bridle clean off, and fled, scattering snow from its hoofs. Alec picked up both revolvers again and crouched against the small shelter of the sidewalk.

  ‘Sheriff! I’m coming!’

  Keeping low, he turned and saw Lacey jogging up the street, astride her horse and leading his. She was keeping an eye on the front of the saloon, plainly trying to gauge whether the men inside could see her. Alec gestured to her.

  ‘Keep close to the sidewalk,’ he called.

  Lacey obeyed, making it harder for the bandits to see her without showing themselves to Alec. He caught a flash of movement and ducked again as more bullets cracked out.

  ‘Come and face us, you turncoat!’ O’Leary yelled.

  Alec didn’t bother replying. He glanced again at Lacey, and signalled for her to halt. She pulled up, watching him anxiously. Alec made a circling gesture. Lacey stared at him for a moment, then began to turn the horses. Not wanting to wait any longer, Alec straightened and started throwing fast shots into the saloon window. Glass shattered and sprayed inwards. Alec thought he heard a yell, and sincerely hoped that one of the outlaws had been cut by the glass, just as he had back at the mine. He fired at different spots, aiming to cause as much damage and confusion as possible, to keep the outlaws pinned down for a few moments. Emptying Houston’s revolver, he dropped it, holstered his own, and ran for the horses.

  Lacey held them steady as Alec ran and vaulted into his saddle. They sprang forwards together, before Alec even got his feet into the stirrups. He caught the reins Lacey tossed him and found his stirrups as they pounded along the street.

  ‘Thank you,’ he shouted to Lacey, leaning over his horse’s neck.

  She grinned back at him, half excited and half terrified. There was a yell from behind them, O’Leary’s voice, and a flurry of shots cracked out. Lacey squealed and Alec looked over at her, anxious. She too was leaning forward as her horse galloped.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ he called.

  ‘No!’ Her face was flushed and her eyes bright.

  A few more shots sounded but Alec had no idea how close they came. As they approached the end of the street, he began to change direction.

  ‘Follow the tracks down,’ he urged.

  Lacey responded and they turned to race beside the railroad tracks along the valley, leaving the small town behind them.

  They covered over two miles at a steady gallop before Alec really noticed the pain in his right thigh. He’d thought it was a bruise or ache sustained from his roll across the sidewalk into the street, but as well as the pain, he felt increasing dampness against his skin. Looking down, he saw bloodstains soaking his trouserleg, and saw the bullet holes of a shallow wound. Cursing, he looked about for a sheltered spot. Not too far ahead was a strip of trees bordering a creek.

  ‘Slow up,’ he called, pointing to the trees. ‘We need to stop there.’

  They slowed to a jog, then a walk, giving the horses the chance to cool a little before halting. Alec dismounted, hanging on to the saddle to steady himself through the first jolt of pain from landing. The world spun for a moment and he lowered his head, breathing deeply.

  ‘Do you think Alcott and the others will be coming. . . ?’ Lacey broke off as she saw him. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Got caught by a bullet,’ he admitted. ‘Must have been as we were leaving town.’ The dizzy spell passed and he was able to turn and look at her.

  Lacey drew in a sharp breath then became practical. ‘That needs cleaning and bandaging straight away.’

  Alec agreed. ‘We’ve no’ got time to waste. Alcott will be after us soon enough.’ He took a couple of steps forward, limping. ‘We should let the horses have a quick drink.’

  Lacey moved into his path. ‘You’re white as a sheet, Sheriff. You shouldn’t be doing anything.’ She turned to her horse and started to unfasten the bedroll. ‘You rest. We’ll get a temporary bandage on it to stop the bleeding, then I’ll fetch some wood and you can start water to heating while I water the horses.’

  Alec wanted to argue with her, but he was feeling shivery now, and knew she was talking sense. If he tried to do too much now, he’d only put himself in a worse position. As Lacey laid out the bedroll on a patch of clear ground, he rummaged in his saddle-bag, bringing out a smal
l hipflask. He took a couple of swallows of whiskey and tucked it away in his coat pocket. Accepting Lacey’s arm, Alec limped to the bedroll and lay down upon it. He watched as she tethered the horses to trees and loosened their girths, before picking up firewood and bringing it back to him. Alec started building the fire as she fetched more wood.

  ‘I don’t have material to make a bandage,’ he realized.

  Lacey added wood to the small pile. She thought for a few moments. ‘Lend me your knife, please,’ she asked.

  Alec passed it to her, wondering what she had planned. She hesitated for a few moments, then took herself out of sight behind a pine and a tangle of leafless shrubs. A couple of minutes later she emerged clutching an item of fine white cotton, that Alec realized was a petticoat. As she started slashing it into strips, he asked.

  ‘Won’t you be cold without that?’

  Lacey shook her head. ‘I still have my flannel one.’

  As she completed the first strips, he took them and bound them around his thigh. When he was done, he held out his hands for the knife and cloth.

  ‘I’ll light the fire and finish this while you water the horses; we can’t afford to waste time. Just let the horses have a short drink,’ he told her. ‘They could founder if we let them have too much and then push them hard.’

  Lacey nodded understanding and went to collect the two horses.

  A few minutes later, the horses were resting and eating a small feed, while a pot of warm water sat by the edge of the fire. With Lacey’s help, Alec had removed his trousers and boots and lay on his side in his flannel long johns. She cut slits in the leg of the long johns to expose the wounds where the bullet had passed through his thigh. After gently washing the sticky blood away, Lacey peered closely at the wounds.

  ‘I think . . . it looks like there’s something in the wound?’ She was puzzled.

  ‘It’ll be fabric from my underpants,’ Alec said, his face grim. ‘The bullet punches it into the wound. You’ll be needing the tweezers from my housewife to get it out.’

  ‘Right.’ Lacey fetched the tweezers and peered closely at the wound. She took a sudden deep breath and held it, before letting it out in a sudden whoosh.

  ‘It’s got to come out,’ Alec said, steadily. ‘You’ve got a steady hand, lass.’

  Taking another deep breath, Lacey cautiously probed the wound. Alec gritted his teeth and clutched a fistful of bedroll, but made no sound. After moments that seemed increasingly drawn out, she suddenly exclaimed.

  ‘I’ve got it!’

  Alec let out a sharp sigh. ‘Good work.’ He reached into his coat pocket for the hip flask. ‘Pour a little of this over each wound before you bandage it up.’

  Lacey did as he said, bringing a sharp hiss from Alec as the raw liquor stung. She put pads of petticoat material against his leg, then wrapped the bandage over the flannel underwear. Alec was still a little shaky, but felt much better once he had his trousers and boots back on. Lacey looked at him carefully.

  ‘You lie here while I pack up and get the horses ready,’ she said. ‘It’s for a fact, you need to rest it as much as possible.’

  Alec just nodded and lay back gratefully, though he watched as she packed things away and tightened the girths.

  ‘What are we going to do now?’ she asked, unhitching the horses.

  ‘Make for Lyons,’ Alec said. ‘We get there first and we’ll have the advantage when Alcott comes after us. I’ll raise a posse of men to support me.’ He’d rather have travelled on to Lucasville, where at least one of his deputies would be, as well as the town’s own marshal. However, Alec suspected that his injury would weaken him, making a hard ride impossible, and they had already lost time while he was being treated. With that in mind, he let Lacey help him up and over to his horse, ready for what he sincerely hoped would be the last stage of their journey.

  The outlaws rode to the sound of cursing and complaints, though Bill Alcott was almost silent, not wasting his breath. Houston grumbled now and again about the pain in his groin from being kicked. O’Leary was stirring himself up with vivid descriptions of what he would do to the girl once they got hold of her. Alcott found his lust dispiriting and grubby, but made no effort to stop him. He wanted his men with him, ready to fight and to finish this mess.

  It had taken them time to set off after the fight in the street. Hannigan and Alcott himself had suffered scratches from the shattered glass of the saloon window, and Houston had been inclined to whimper, rather than try to walk. They’d had to sort themselves out and get their horses ready, before hitting the trail in search of Lawson and the girl. After a short argument, the packhorse and bags had been left behind for the sake of speed. Alcott felt a dark, brooding anger: Lawson had cost him so much. He’d lost his friend, his brother and his pride. He had to pay Lawson back; he wanted him to suffer, if possible. When it was over, when he’d seen Lawson lying in the dirt, Alcott decided he would move on. He’d make his way to somewhere else, Montana perhaps, and forget about all this.

  ‘Hey, look there.’ Hannigan pointed to the left.

  Alcott saw the tracks leading away from the railroad, left in a patch of snow.

  ‘Stay sharp,’ he ordered, turning his horse. ‘Lawson may be waiting in those trees.’

  The outlaws drew their guns as they approached the strip of trees. They weren’t thick enough to make good cover though, and it was soon clear that no one was there. The outlaws halted and dismounted, looking about.

  ‘They made a fire,’ Houston said prodding the mound with his foot.

  ‘Looks like something was laid out here, a blanket maybe,’ O’Leary added.

  Alcott’s eye was drawn by a glimpse of dull red at the edge of a snow patch. He knelt down to examine it. ‘Looks like someone poured some water away here,’ he mused, studying the snow. ‘Water with blood in it!’ he realized suddenly. ‘We hit one of them, and most likely it was Lawson.’

  ‘Can’t be too bad, though,’ Hannigan said gloomily. ‘He rode this far, and they’ve gone on again.’

  ‘It’s still a wound, and bad enough for them to stop and tend it,’ Alcott said. He felt a new burst of energy at the sight. ‘They can’t be too far ahead of us now.’

  O’Leary let out a whoop that made birds call in alarm. ‘I’m gonna get me that girl soon!’

  ‘I aim to pay Lawson back,’ Houston said. ‘I want to pepper him with shot and see how he likes it; some in his arm, some in his leg. Let him stew and suffer for a while, then put a load into his belly and let him lie there and watch his own guts oozing out.’

  ‘Then let’s get going.’ Alcott caught his horse and mounted. ‘I want this settled.’

  They set off again at a brisk lope, enthusiasm renewed. Hannigan and Houston ceased to grumble about their injuries and even O’Leary mercifully kept quiet, concentrating on watching the trail ahead. After the first few minutes, Alcott was expecting to see Lawson and the girl up ahead. The valley curved away gently to the left at first, and patches of woodland obscured the view in places. A few more minutes passed before the valley opened up in front of them and all four outlaws saw the two figures, over half a mile ahead.

  O’Leary let out a whoop of excitement and kicked his horse into a full gallop.

  ‘We can get them!’ he yelled.

  The other outlaws pushed their horses on too: the end of the long chase was in sight.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Although it was a relief to finally reach Lyons, Alec’s mood was grim. He felt weak and a little light-headed after the gallop along the valley. The horses had, thankfully, kept the pace up well, but the outlaws had never been more than ten or fifteen minutes behind them. Somehow or another he was going to have to deal with them here, and he needed to find a solution pretty quickly. Alec quickly decided that their best chance of help lay in calling up a posse from around the Golden Nugget saloon. The guard at the nearby bank could also be called upon.

  As Alec reined his horse to a halt, he heard h
is name called, in an unexpectedly familiar voice. Turning quickly in his saddle, a wave of dizziness blurred his vision for a few moments before he could properly recognize the aristocratic looking man hurrying along the sidewalk towards him.

  ‘Karl!’ he exclaimed in delight. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘We came to help you out,’ his chief deputy replied, jumping down into the street.

  Karl Firth was sometimes mistaken for the sheriff, instead of a deputy, which didn’t surprise Alec. Karl was taller, handsome and, Alec felt, naturally more distinguished looking. His dark blond hair and crystal blue eyes seemed altogether more striking than Alec’s own dark hair and eyes. Alec had long ago resigned himself to the belief that he would be overshadowed by his more colourful deputies.

  ‘We got your telegram from Dronfield,’ Karl explained. ‘I wired Leadville to warn them that Alcott was probably in town. They wired back soon after to say there’d been no sign of him, so I thought I’d better let you know. I then wired Dronfield and they replied to tell me about your fight with Alcott and that you’d left town, with Alcott following soon after. I guessed you’d be heading this way so we came up on the train to help you.’

  ‘I dinna care too much for the details right now,’ Alec said, still grinning. ‘I’m just glad you’re here.’

  ‘So am I,’ Lacey interrupted. ‘The sheriff’s hurt.’

  ‘Alec?’ Karl’s expression changed from pleasure to anxiety as he stepped closer to Alec’s horse. He’d been standing on the opposite site to the wounded leg, and hadn’t seen the blood that had soaked through bandages and trousers.

  There were shouts of pleasure as Alec’s other two deputies came running up. As they approached, Alec slid from his saddle, grateful for Karl’s support through a wave of dizziness. Lacey found herself approached by a handsome, dark-haired man with merry blue eyes, who grinned up at her.

  ‘Miss Fry?’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘I’m Sam Liston, Alec’s most trusted deputy. Let me help you down.’