‘Go grab them sniveling critters and bring them over here.’ Savage said in a cold snarl. ‘They’re gonna be your shields, boys. Whoever that scattergun toting varmint is at the far end of the bar, I don’t think he’ll be willing to kill them and he’ll have to if’n he wants to shoot you. Savvy?’

  The outlaws all began to nod as they strode up to what was left of the saloons terrified patrons, grabbed hold of them and brought them back to the bar counter. Savage waved his guns to indicate that his men move to both sides of the horseshoe shaped bar counter with their captives and then turned to stare down to where he knew the man with the shotgun was secreted.

  ‘Remember to keep these bums between you and that scattergun, boys.’ Savage warned.

  Travis had his fingers gripped firmly on to the bandanna of the man he had chosen to use for cover. A man who just happened to be the fattest of the entire bunch.

  ‘This is gonna be real sweet, Bart.’ Travis said. ‘I sure can’t see buckshot getting through this critter.’

  Savage nodded in agreement and then looked down the length of the long bar.

  ‘Whoever you are, listen up.’ Savage yelled out at the top of his voice.

  ‘I’m the sheriff and I’m listening.’ Willis shouted back as he wondered what would happen next. ‘Spit it out whatever it is you’re trying to say. I’d hurry up if I was you ’cause I’m gonna start killing more of your stinking gang darn soon.’

  ‘I don’t think you’ll want to go shooting that scattergun at us anymore, Sheriff.’ Savage added as he eased himself up on top of the wet surface of the bar counter and stood amid the debris which littered its wet surface. He stretched up and could just make out the top of the lawman’s hat. ‘My boys have plucked this saloon’s still living customers off the wall yonder. They’re gonna start walking down toward you with them folks in front of them. If you start blasting again with that scattergun you’ll be killing townsfolk. Do you cotton to what I’m telling you?’

  Willis exhaled. He knew exactly what Savage was telling him. The outlaws were using the very people he had come to save as shields.

  ‘Do you savvy, Sheriff?’ Savage screamed out. ‘You’ll have to kill the very critters that pay your wages before you can kill any of us again. You’d best quit right now and throw that scattergun aside.’

  The lawman tried to think. He peeked around the side of the mahogany counter and then pulled back. Savage was telling the truth for once in his rancid existence, Willis thought.

  Then he heard the spurs as the outlaws advanced on both sides of the counter. They were on their way to where he knelt.

  ‘You’ve gone real quiet there, Sheriff.’ Savage yelled out again as he started to walk along the surface of the wet bar counter to where Willis was taking cover. ‘How come? Are you kinda befuddled?’

  Willis could hear the advancing spurs growing louder as the outlaws drew nearer. Somehow the deranged mind of the outlaw leader had outwitted him. There was no way he could fend them off without killing what was left of the saloons remaining customers.

  Willis shook his head.

  ‘Let them go. You want a hostage? Then take me. Let these innocent folks go.’ The sheriff shouted. ‘I’m paid to get shot up.’

  Bart Savage had moved halfway along the counter top. With each step he could see more and more of his prey from his high vantage point. He trained both his cocked guns at the sheriff’s hat.

  Savage paused.

  ‘Do you figure that you’re a more valuable hostage than all these cowards, Sheriff?’ Savage asked. ‘Do you? Do you reckon Johnny Mason will value your hide more than these pitiful critters?’

  ‘Who in tarnation is Johnny Mason?’ Willis yelled out.

  ‘It don’t matter none.’ Savage snorted. ‘Just show me them hands of yours and I’ll let this sorrowful bunch go free.’

  The lawman knew that he had no choice but agree to whatever the crazed outlaw demanded.

  ‘OK. You win.’

  Willis raised his shotgun above his head so that all of the outlaws could see it. Reluctantly he tossed the hefty weapon on to the top of the counter.

  ‘I quit. You got the better of me.’ Willis called out. ‘I can’t kill any of the folks who pay my salary. You win.’

  ‘And don’t forget to toss away your six-shooter as well, Sheriff.’ Savage triumphantly laughed.

  Willis drew his handgun and flung it across the windswept interior of the saloon. The .45 slid through the sawdust until it hit the far wall.

  ‘I’m unarmed.’ The lawman stated reluctantly.

  ‘Good, now stand with them hands held high.’ Savage ordered and then watched as Willis slowly stood up with his arms reaching for the tobacco stained ceiling. The deadly leader of the gang started to chuckle as he stared down at the helpless lawman.

  The sheriff glared up at Savage. ‘Now keep your side of the bargain and let these men go.’

  The room was suddenly filled with laughter. It was louder than the howling storm which continued to batter the saloon. Bart Savage was more than amused by the innocence of the lawman standing below his high perch. He kicked a pyramid of whiskey glasses over the sheriff. Hardy Willis took a backward step.

  ‘I’m real sorry but I changed my mind, Sheriff.’ Savage walked to the end of the counter. His narrowed eyes studied the rotund lawman. ‘I reckon this bunch of worthless dogs might come in useful when Johnny gets here. He might be as pitiful as you and not be willing to shoot them in order to kill us.’

  ‘So you’re a liar as well as a madman.’ Willis stated defiantly. ‘I figured as much.’

  ‘Which one of us is the loco bean? The man with his hands held high or the critter with two cocked guns?’ Savage looked angered as he studied the lawman.

  ‘I don’t think Johnny will be coming alone.’ Willis exhaled. ‘Gene Adams and his Bar 10 riders will be headed here as we speak.’

  ‘Who in tarnation is Gene Adams?’ Savage growled.

  ‘You’ll find out.’ The sheriff replied.

  ‘Hell, you’re just a fat old man.’ Savage mocked as his men kept firm hold on their prisoners. ‘Nothing but a star-packing fat old man.’

  Willis nodded and shrugged. ‘Yep, I’m just a fat old man who managed to kill four of your gang without even getting winged.’

  Both men stared at one another with equal hatred.

  ‘I reckon you’ve as long as most lawmen have a right to do.’ Savage snarled.

  ‘Maybe even longer.’ Willis sighed.

  Without warning Savage squeezed on both his triggers sending two red hot tapers of lethal lead into the chest of the lawman. Hardy Willis buckled and toppled backwards on to the floor next to the headless body of the man he had only moments earlier killed. Soon his blood mingled in the sawdust with that of the fallen outlaw.

  ‘That was good shooting, Bart.’ Potter noted.

  Bart Savage jumped down next to the stricken Willis and stared at his handiwork. His men dragged their captives closer to where the wounded lawman lay. Their eyes feasted on the sight. The helpless sheriff looked back up at Savage with glazed eyes as blood trickled from the corners of his mouth. The devilish outlaw leader cocked his hammers again and spat down upon his victim. A cruel smile etched his face as he aimed the smoking barrels at Willis.

  ‘I hate fat old men.’ Savage said. ‘Especially those who wear tin stars.’

  He then fired both his guns again. The deafening sound of the two six-shooters unleashing their fury rocked the saloon. The gun smoke cleared slowly revealing the sickening sight to the terrified prisoners and their joyous captors.

  Willis was dead.

  Chapter Eight

  HIDDEN BY THE cloak of choking sand Bob Charles the bartender reined in beside the tall doors of the livery stable set at the far end of the long main street. The sound of the brief gunfight inside the Longhorn saloon still echoed in his ears as he dismounted. Charles was still shaking as he led the rented saddle horse into the dark interior of the cavernous structure. The sizable figure of the blacksmith came out from the shadows and added to the mounting fear which gripped the bartender.

  Charles looked sick as Harker took the reins of the saddle horse from him. Neither man spoke as the horse was led into the depths of the stable. The bartender had delivered the message to Gene Adams just as Savage had ordered him to do and managed to return to Sutter’s Corner.

  The nervous man sat on the edge of an upturned barrel and buried his face in his hands. He was scared again. The long ride had managed to calm his nerves as he had headed to the Bar 10 but as he had ridden back to the town the horrific reality of what was happening in the normally peaceful town had overwhelmed him.

  Charles knew that the rancher would tell Johnny Puma that Bart Savage wanted him. There was no doubt in the mind of the bartender that Adams would not allow the young cowboy to journey to Sutter’s Corner alone.

  He lifted his face from his sweat soaked palms and saw the large muscular Harker walking back toward him. Charles was panting like a hound. His lungs were filled with sand.

  ‘Did you manage to get to the Bar 10, Bob?’ the larger man asked as he paused beside the bartender.

  Charles nodded his reply.

  The blacksmith rubbed one of his massive hands on the head of the bartender.

  ‘Don’t go near the Longhorn, boy.’ He advised.

  ‘I didn’t figure on going anywhere near the saloon until I see them outlaws leave town, Joel.’ Charles admitted. ‘I did what they told me to do and I reckon I’m gonna find a real deep hole to hide in until then.’

  ‘That’s wise.’

  ‘Did you go and tell the sheriff what’s going on, Joel?’ Charles asked as he managed to rise from the makeshift seat.

  A grim expression carved across the face of the burly man as he strode to the tall doors. He stared out into the blinding sandstorm toward the Longhorn.

  ‘Yep, but I sure wish I’d not have told Hardy about them ruthless killers.’

  Bob Charles wandered to the side of the troubled blacksmith and stared at him.

  ‘What you mean?’ he asked.

  ‘I told Hardy what you told me.’ Harker explained. ‘You know him, he got all fired up and grabbed one of his scatterguns and headed to the saloon.’

  ‘But one man couldn’t tackle that bunch on his lonesome, Joel.’ Charles gasped. ‘There are too many of them.’

  The larger man nodded. ‘I reckon that’s why we heard all that shooting a few minutes back. There was one hell of a gun battle in the Longhorn for a few minutes.’

  ‘The shooting has stopped now.’

  Harker looked at his friend. ‘And Hardy ain’t come back out of the saloon. In my book that means only one thing.’

  Bob Charles swallowed hard.

  ‘They must have killed him, Joel.’ The bartender reasoned correctly. ‘They must have done to Willis what they did to little Maisie the bargirl.’

  The blacksmith sadly agreed.

  ‘Yep, reckon so.’

  Charles clenched his fists in frustrated fury. He felt utterly helpless as he like so many of the men in Sutter’s Corner was unarmed.

  ‘Damn it all, Joel. If I had me a gun I’d try and pick some of them critters off. It just ain’t right for us to do nothing when them merciless varmints are killing folks with no more fretting than if they were swatting flies in an outhouse. If we only had us some guns.’

  The far larger man knew that the bartender was right. So far the killing had been confined to the Longhorn but Harker realized that it might soon spread out into the entire town. If it did the streets would be flowing in blood.

  ‘You’re right, Bob.’ The blacksmith agreed.

  ‘I don’t even know anyone in town who owns any weapons.’ The bartender added. ‘Most of the folks in Sutter’s Corner ain’t never had any call to arm themselves. Until now, that is.’

  Thoughtfully Harker looked at the younger man and rubbed his rugged jaw. Then his wrinkled eyes widened. He snapped his fingers.

  ‘I know where there are guns. Plenty of them.’

  Charles stepped closer to the mountain of a man. ‘Where, Joel? Where are there plenty of guns?’

  The blacksmith screwed up his eyes and squinted down the long barely visible street as sand stung his face like a swarm of crazed hornets.

  ‘Down there in the Sheriff’s Office.’ Harker raised an arm and pointed out into the storm. ‘That’s where.’

  The bartender nodded his head.

  ‘Yeah, as I recall there’s a wall rack full of rifles in there. The sheriff has repeating rifles and scatterguns as I recall.’

  ‘And there’s plenty of ammunition there as well, Bob.’ The larger man added enthusiastically. ‘Are you willing to come with me and rustle up some of them rifles?’

  Bob Charles did not have to think of his answer. He nodded.

  ‘I sure am, Joel.’

  Both men moved to the rear of the large livery stable. The blacksmith used his strength to force the rear door open against the pounding of the wind. The pair of determined men braved the storm and started to make their way through the alleyways toward their distant goal.

  Someone had to try and stop the bloodshed.

  The murderous outlaws had to be prevented from adding even more notches to their weaponry.

  Whether the two very different men would be able to stop the Savage gang’s murderous progress was something only time and fate itself knew the answer to.

  Soon everyone else would as well.

  Chapter Nine

  THE FERTILE RANGE resounded with the sound of the hoofs of the galloping horses. The four Bar 10 riders cut a trail through the wall of sand at a pace only expert horsemen could ever have achieved. The sun was still high in the sky and yet little of its rays seemed to be able to penetrate the dense cloud of sand which continued to smother the swaying grassland.

  The four horsemen had made good time to reach the very edge of the famed cattle spread so quickly yet each knew that with every stride of their valiant mounts they were getting closer and closer to some of the most deadly men any of them would ever encounter.

  Every so often there was a brief break in the choking storm. It was a short opportunity for the riders to spit out sand and suck in air. It also allowed them time to try and see the land which stretched out before them and find the small wooden shack they were searching for.

  Then as the wind changed Gene Adams caught a brief glimpse of the line shack a few hundred yards ahead of them. He pointed his free hand, slapped his reins across the tail of the chestnut mare’s tail and thundered toward it with his three riders in his wake.

  The four riders of the Bar 10 eased back on their reins as they approached the small structure set on the fringe of the vast Bar 10 ranch. The line shack had been rocked for hours by the seemingly unrelenting sandstorm. It had lost half its wooden shingles and Gene Adams imagined the remainder would be torn from its sloped room before the wind finally eased up.

  The rancher handed his reins to Tomahawk and dismounted from the tall shouldered mare. Adams turned his face away from the vicious storm and stepped up on to the porch of the shack and beat on the door.

  Red Evans opened the door and looked startled at the sight of not only Adams but his three companions.

  ‘What’s wrong, Gene?’ Evans asked as Chip North moved to the shoulder of his fellow wrangler.

  ‘I sure hope you ain’t sore with us, Gene.’ Chip said. ‘Me and Red couldn’t round up no steers with this damn storm. Every time we got a few longhorns together we lost them in the sandstorm.’

  ‘We figured it was best if we stayed here until the storm ended.’ Red added.

  ‘I ain’t here for that, boys.’ Adams walked into the shack and forced the door shut against the strong wind. He looked at both the young cowboys. ‘Johnny needs our help and I was hoping that you boys might want to tag along.’

  ‘I don’t understand, Gene.’ Chip admitted. ‘Why would Johnny need our help?’

  Adams looked hard at the two cowboys. ‘A gang of outlaws are holed up in the Longhorn saloon over at Sutter’s Corner, boys. They want Johnny to go there so they can gun him down. They’re killing innocent folks and they’ll keep killing until he shows.’

  ‘Why are a bunch of outlaws so all fired up against Johnny?’ Red asked.

  ‘Everybody likes Johnny.’ Chip said. ‘It must be a mistake.’

  The rancher frowned and wiped the caked sand from his features as he considered the two loyal cowboys before him. They deserved to know the truth if he was going to ask them to risks their very lives to help. Adams nodded thoughtfully and then moved closer.

  ‘Listen up, boys. What I’m gonna tell you has got to remain between us. A long time ago Johnny had his sweetheart killed by this gang.’ Adams revealed. ‘He managed to kill a handful of the stinking rats but then got himself shot up. The leader of the gang is a varmint called Bart Savage. He somehow managed to get Johnny blamed for the atrocities he and his cohorts had done. Johnny became a wanted outlaw. Me and Tomahawk found Johnny shot up real bad and nursed him back to health. Since he was wanted I give him a new name. For the longest while the outlaws thought that Johnny was dead and buried but somehow they found out he’s one of my Bar 10 cowboys. They want revenge, boys. They’ll do anything to get it.’

  ‘They’re killing innocent folks?’ Chip gulped.

  ‘Yep.’ Gene Adams looked troubled. ‘They even killed little Maisie in the Longhorn.’

  ‘I don’t cotton to anyone harming females, Gene.’ Red said angrily.

  ‘Me neither.’ Chip riled.

  Adams rested his gloved hands on the shoulders of the two cowboys. ‘Me, Tomahawk and Happy wouldn’t let young Johnny go there alone. I know this is none of your business but I figured I’d ask if you’d like to ride with us and help him. Will you?’

  ‘How many are there in this gang, Gene?’ Red wondered.

  ‘We were told that there are about twelve or more of the critters.’ Adams replied.

 

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