‘You made it with time to spare, Joshua.’ Savage said in a low growl. ‘Martha was fretting that you might decide to make a fight of it. I told her that all bankers are nothing more than greedy cowards.’

  ‘You killed them in cold blood.’ He exclaimed frantically as he pointed at the dead bodies out in the street. ‘You back shot two unarmed men in cold blood.’

  ‘Reckon I did.’ Savage sneered in a mocking tone. ‘Ain’t it just a crying shame, Joshua?’

  Rage filled the face of the banker as he dropped the handles of the bags which he had carried from his bank to the Longhorn. He clenched both fists until his knuckles went white. White went to approach Savage when the outlaw cocked the hammer again and aimed the smoking gun at the banker’s head. White stopped in his tracks as the smoke could from the gun barrels and encircled his head.

  ‘I’d stop right there if’n I was you.’ Savage warned. ‘You see me fan my hammer but how many times did I fan it?’

  White was puzzled by the question. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘As yourself this, did I shoot five or six times, Joshua?’ Savage added as he raised the gun until its barrel rested against the temple of the banker. White winched as the hot metal burned his skin. ‘If I squeeze this trigger will my gun fire or not?’

  Every drop of the rage drained from the banker. He stepped back from the outlaw and trembled.

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t count how many times you fired that weapon.’ White stammered.

  Bart Savage turned and aimed the gun at the flustered female. Before the banker could say anything Savage pulled on the trigger of the .45. The hammer clicked as it fell on a spent casing.

  ‘Just ain’t your day is it, Joshua?’ Savage looked at the banker again and grinned. ‘That’s the trouble with cowards like you. No guts.’

  Fury again engulfed the banker. White defied his own terror and strode up to the deadly outlaw and glared into his eyes.

  ‘Kill me, you coward.’ He shouted.

  ‘No. No.’ the banker’s wife screamed out as the hands of Saunders pressed down on to her shoulders keeping her firmly planted on the hardback chair. ‘Don’t kill him. Please spare him.’

  For a few seconds Savage did nothing except look down into the far shorter man’s eyes as his grin grew wider and his hands reloaded his gun.

  ‘You have got a little spunk, Joshua.’ Savage said.

  ‘Why don’t you just kill me? I’m finished after this anyway.’ White snorted.

  Savage tilted his head and then calmly pulled a cigar from his vest pocket and placed it between his teeth. He produced a match as though by magic and ran a thumbnail across its tip. As the flame erupted on the splinter of wood in his hand Savage raised the match to his cigar and drew smoke into his lungs.

  ‘Tom?’ Savage said over his shoulder without taking his burning stare from the banker.

  Barnes moved across the blood covered sawdust. ‘What, Bart?’

  ‘Tie each of them money sacks to the spare horses.’ Savage ordered. ‘And keep your eyes out for Johnny Mason when he shows.’

  ‘Right.’ Tom Barnes moved through the swing doors and started to do as he had been instructed. Savage glanced at Travis.

  ‘Tie this feisty old man up next to his wife, Dave.’

  Before White could utter another word Travis had grabbed him and dragged him across the room. The outlaw planted him on a chair next to his bewildered spouse.

  ‘Thank you. Thank you.’ Martha White said to the outlaw leader as Savage inhaled on his cigar.

  ‘Don’t go selling your soul to that devil, Martha.’ White snarled as Travis roped him to the chair firmly. ‘There has to be a reason why we ain’t dead yet. His stinking breed never do anything unless there’s a profit in it for them.’

  ‘Just like bankers, huh?’ Travis spat into White’s ear.

  Bart Savage raised an eyebrow and looked at both his hostage’s as well as the last of the saloons customers who were also hogtied in a corner near the pile of dead bodies.

  ‘He’s right, woman.’ Savage said to the banker’s wife in a sickening drawl. ‘You should never sell your soul to anyone. It never pays to lick the boots of your enemies.’

  Martha White was totally bemused by what was happening all around her. Her entire world had been ripped apart and she had no idea why.

  ‘But you could have killed my Joshua the way you killed those boys out there in the street.’ She said in a bewildered tone. ‘You must have some humanity left in you.’

  White shook his head at the total lack of understanding in his wife.

  ‘Are you soft in the head? His kind ain’t got any humanity in them, Martha.’ White argued. ‘He’s up to something. Heed my words, woman. He’s up to something and it ain’t gonna be good.’

  Savage holstered his gun and then pulled the cigar from his lips. He grinned at them. It was the sickening grin only madmen could ever create.

  ‘Your husband is the smartest damn banker I’ve ever met, Martha.’ He told the female. ‘I am up to something.’

  Reynolds returned to the shoulder of Savage with a bucket half full of coal tar oil. The smell of the highly inflammable liquid was powerful.

  ‘What you want me to do with this oil, Bart?’

  The outlaw leader raised an eyebrow and then sucked on the end of his cigar. The smoke filled his lungs as he smiled at the banker and his wife.

  ‘Pour it over the happy couple, Griff.’ Savage said as his cold eyes stared at the glowing end of his cigar. ‘Make sure they’re doused in the stuff.’

  The female started to shriek out in terror as Reynolds moved toward her and her husband. Her unblinking eyes watched as the outlaw obeyed his orders and started to pour the oil over them.

  Savage stared straight at the banker as Reynolds emptied the last of the coal oil over White. The well secured man felt the fiery oil burn into his eyes.

  ‘What are they doing this for, Joshua?’ Martha screamed out as the fumes filled her nostrils and lungs. ‘What’s happening?’

  White lowered his head in agony. He blinked but the pain grew more intense.

  ‘They’re gonna burn us, woman.’ The banker yelled at the floor. ‘What in tarnation do you think they’re gonna do?’

  Savage raised an eyebrow. ‘Yep, he’s a real smart banker.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  GENE ADAMS GRABBED hold of the brake pole and stepped on to stagecoach wheel. He raised himself up and looked at the concerned face of his toothless friend. The rancher curled a finger and Tomahawk leaned down to listen to whatever his friend was going to say.

  ‘I want you to drive this coach into the outskirts of Sutter’s Corner, you old buzzard.’ Adams said. ‘When you level the horses up at the end of the main street I want you to crack these leathers and then duck down into this box. Do you understand?’

  Tomahawk screwed up his eyes as his tongue rotated around his whiskers.

  ‘I’m a leetle bit confused, Gene boy. Do you want me to drive this stage or not?’

  Adams shook his head. ‘I sure do want you to drive this stage into town but when you reach the livery stable at the end of the long main street I want you to hide down in the box. We gotta make them think that there ain’t nobody driving this damn thing.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well I’d hate for you to end up shot to ribbons.’ Adams said before adding. ‘Plus, I need a distraction so me and the boys can circle around to the back of the Longhorn.’

  The bushy eyebrows of the old man rose.

  ‘Is that why you chose me for this job, Gene boy?’ he asked. ‘To let the rest of the young whippersnappers know that I’m the best darn distraction maker and wagon driver on the Bar 10? Is that it?’

  Adams tugged the jutting beard.

  ‘Nope. I chose you ’cause you’re the only one of my boys who’d fit in the damn drivers box without being seen, Tomahawk.’

  Tomahawk looked at the rancher.

  ‘Red could fit in here if’n you folded him.’

  The rancher smiled. ‘Remember to hide in the box before any of them outlaws see you, old timer. When you hear the shooting start, get ready with that old hatchet of yours.’

  The ancient cowboy watched as Adams stepped into his stirrup and mounted his chestnut mare. The rancher eased the tall animal close to the stagecoach and pointed a black gloved finger at his pal.

  ‘Give us a few minutes start and then head on into town.’ Adams said as he spurred.

  Tomahawk watched as the five Bar 10 riders thundered through the shimmering heat haze toward Sutter’s Corner. He then glanced down at the two men standing close to the stagecoach. The driver and the guard touched the brims of their hats at the wily old man clutching on to the reins.

  ‘So we’ve gotta walk into town from here?’ the driver asked.

  ‘Yep, and I’d walk real slow if’n I was you, boys.’ Tomahawk advised. ‘I got me a feeling that a whole heap of folks are gonna end up dead before sundown.’

  ‘Then we’ll walk real slow.’ The guard nodded.

  Tomahawk released the brake pole and slapped the reins down across the backs of the six horse team. The vehicle started to move slowly toward the town.

  Tom Barnes had only just secured the last of the canvas money bags to their horses when a sound drifted along the wide thoroughfare on the late afternoon air.

  It was a haunting sound which for some reason chilled the deadly outlaw to the bone. Barnes tightened the last knot of the rope against the wide girth of the saddle horse and then lowered his head and listened even harder.

  The sound troubled Barnes.

  He moved between the horses of the dead gang members like a man walking barefoot on broken glass. He stopped when he reached the tails of the animals and then stared through the sunlight around the eerily empty street.

  Apart from the bodies of the two bank tellers and the dozen horses belonging to the Savage gang, the street was devoid of any sign of life. Barnes felt uneasy as the strange noise drifted through the late afternoon again.

  He swallowed hard. Some men sense when their luck was about to change and Tom Barnes was one of them. Every fiber of his being knew that something was about to happen. It filled him with an overpowering urge to ride.

  The storm had ended and the blazing sun had replaced it but Barnes sensed that there was now a far greater danger heading their way. The outlaw lowered his hands until they rested upon the grips of his holstered guns. His eyes darted around the long main street in search of whatever it was that was making the unnerving sound.

  It was a pointless exercise.

  An icy chill traced his spine beneath his shirt and jacket. Yet he was sweating like a pig in a butcher’s shop. Then he heard it again and he swung around and stared down toward the tall livery stable. The sun was getting lower with each beat of his pounding heart and was behind the tall weathered structure. A long black shadow grew and grew as it crept toward the saloon and the nervous outlaw. Blinding shafts of sunbeams tormented his eyes as they cut through the gaps in the walls of the enormous structure.

  ‘What the hell is making that damn noise?’ he mumbled to himself as he tried to see.

  Barnes tilted his head as the sound grew louder. Whatever it was creating the eerie sound it was getting closer his mind told him.

  Suddenly behind him the saloon swing doors abruptly burst apart as Bart Savage marched out into the blinding rays of the sun. Barnes swung and drew one of his guns and aimed at the outlaw leader.

  ‘Sorry, Bart. You spooked me.’ Barnes sighed and rammed his colt back into its holster. He returned his attention to the far end of the street.

  The far taller man stepped down from the boardwalk and did not stop walking until he reached the side of the troubled Barnes. He glared at Barnes curiously.

  ‘What the hell is wrong with you, Tom?’ Savage asked. ‘You’ve been out here for ten minutes or more and how come you drew on me? What’s wrong?’

  Barnes placed a hand on the shoulder of Savage. ‘Listen to that, Bart.’

  ‘Listen to what, Tom?’ Savage growled. ‘I can’t hear nothing except these horses snorting.’

  ‘Don’t you hear it?’ Barnes looked stunned. ‘You gotta be able to hear it. It’s like chains rattling off in the distance.’

  ‘All I can hear is you gabbing like an old mother hen, Tom.’ Savage said. ‘Least you managed to pack them bags on the horses. Any sign of Johnny Mason yet?’

  Barnes shook his head and then cupped a hand next to his ear and started to nod.

  ‘I’m certain that I can hear chains rattling out there someplace, Bart. Chains clanging together like fury. Am I going loco?’

  Savage duplicated the action of the outlaw and cupped one of his own hands by his ear. He was about to dismiss the idea that Barnes could hear the rattling of chains when he too heard them.

  ‘You ain’t loco, Tom.’ Savage drawled. ‘I hear them too.’

  The expression on Barnes face resembled that of the three bankers when they had approached the Longhorn less than thirty minutes earlier. It was pale and fearful.

  ‘Something bad is coming this way, Bart.’ The outlaw swallowed hard. ‘What do you figure it is?’

  Savage dragged one of his guns from its holster and rested the barrel against his cheek thoughtfully.

  ‘I ain’t sure.’

  Barnes shook his head. ‘Why don’t we just saddle up and head on out of this damn town, Bart. This place ain’t lucky for us.’

  ‘What you mean?’ Savage asked as he continued straining to make out what was making the sound that was definitely heading toward them.

  ‘We lost us a lot of boys today, Bart.’ Barnes continued as he too squinted hard in a vain bid to see what was coming toward them. ‘We ain’t lost no boys in ten years and today we had our gang nearly cut in half by a fat old lawman. This place is bad luck and no mistake.’

  Savage turned away from the sun. He rubbed his eyes.

  ‘There ain’t no such animal as bad luck. We make our own luck in this life.’ He snarled.

  ‘I’m for riding to the border now.’ Barnes said defiantly. ‘I got me the feeling we’ll all end up as dead as them bank clerks yonder if we don’t high tail it.’

  ‘Not until I kill Johnny.’

  ‘We don’t even know for sure that Johnny Puma is the same galoot that killed our boy’s way back, Bart.’ Barnes said.

  ‘I know. I feel it in my guts.’ Bart Savage marched back to the boardwalk and stepped up on it. The porch overhang shielded his eyes from the setting sun as he again attempted what was heading toward the town.

  Tom Barnes hopped up on to the boards next to him. ‘Listen to them chains rattling, Bart. That’s gotta be spooks rising out of their damn graves. We’re doomed if we stay here.’

  ‘I got me a score to settle with Johnny.’ Savage snarled as he kept looking toward the very end of the long main street. ‘We ain’t leaving until he shows.’

  ‘What if Johnny don’t show?’ Barnes said. ‘What if that rancher he works for has sent a message to the rangers? They’ll send an army here to get us.’

  Savage suddenly started to smile again as finally he managed to see what was alarming his cohort. He grabbed the bandanna of the terrified outlaw and then pointed his gun.

  ‘Spooks, huh?’ Savage snarled as he jerked the bandanna violently. ‘Look, Tom. Do you see it?’

  ‘Well doggone if it ain’t a stagecoach.’ Barnes said sheepishly. ‘Who’d have thought it?’

  ‘Who’d be dumb enough to reckon we were being visited by spooks?’ Savage released his grip and cocked his gun hammer as he began to nod. ‘I got me a feeling that our luck is still sweet, Tom. Stagecoaches sometimes have strongboxes. Get the boys.’

  ‘OK, Bart.’ Barnes entered the saloon and gathered the others together. Only Chuck Saunders remained close to their roped prisoners as the rest of the gang checked their weaponry and joined Savage on the saloon boardwalk.

  ‘What we gonna do, Bart?’ Reynolds asked.

  ‘When the stage draws level I want you boys to shoot the driver and guard off their high perch.’ Savage said in a deathly drawl. ‘If you see any passengers you can have yourselves some target practice with them as well.’

  Each of the seven outlaws drew their six-shooters and pulled back on their hammers. They were ready to continue their slaughtering.

  Gene Adams, Happy, Red and Chip steered their mounts through the back streets until they arrived at the rear of the Longhorn saloon. The Bar 10 cowboys dismounted and secured their horses before moving toward the saloons outhouse.

  ‘What’s Johnny gonna do, Gene?’ Happy asked as they reached the back wall of the saloon close to its rickety door.

  Adams gritted his teeth. ‘I don’t rightly know, boy.’

  Red eased himself next to the tall rancher. ‘What now, Gene?’

  ‘I’m going in through this rear door with Chip.’ Adams said as Chip North nodded. ‘You and Happy will head on down the alleys to each side, Red.’

  ‘When do we make our move, Gene?’ Chip asked.

  Adams narrowed his eyes. ‘Not until we hear the stage out front, son. Then we make our move.’

  ‘Where did Johnny go, Gene?’ Red asked as he and the rest of them drew their guns in readiness. ‘He was with us right up until we rode into the side streets and then he was gone.’

  ‘Johnny ain’t far away.’ Adams replied.

  The outlaws watched as the stagecoach cleared the long shadows and its six lathered up horses trotted out into the bright sunlight.

  ‘Hear it comes.’ Travis grinned.

  ‘Gonna be a damn turkey shoot, boys.’ Sly Potter chuckled as he stood between Reynolds and Travis.

  Bart Savage looked over the heads of the dozen saddle horses tethered at the long hitching rails. He stretched his lean frame to its full imposing height and then noticed something which none of the others had spotted.

  The smile faded from his face.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9