Broken Star (2006) (9 page)

Reaching under himself, Vejar discovered thankfully that his own .45 had not been jolted
from its holster when he had been thrown from the horse. Keeping his movements to a
minimum
, he drew the gun and tucked it in close to his chest. Then he played dead, hoping the moronic Ben would lack the good sense to put a bullet in him before coming too close.

‘Vejar?’ Ben had stopped to call questioningly.

Lying absolutely still, Vejar continued to feign what could be construed either as
unconsciousness
or death. It was a perilous ploy. Should Ben Poole decide it was the former, then he would put a bullet into Vejar before taking a risk in coming closer. Even if undecided as to Vejar’s state, it would be logical to take the same
precaution
.

But Ben was a thug, not a thinker. Waiting a little while longer for a response from Vejar, he came on to stand over him. Hearing the click as Poole thumbed back the hammer of his Colt, Vejar knew the time had come. Opening his eyes, he fired from where he held his .45 in close to his body. With Vejar deprived of the
opportunity
to take aim, his bullet hit Poole in the
stomach
. Going backwards for some distance without his feet touching the ground, Ben crashed down onto his back, shrieking loudly as the sheer agony of a stomach wound kicked in. His six-gun flew out of his hand, firing a shot harmlessly when it hit the ground.

Knowing that Lew Poole would have by now moved in closer, Vejar sprang up and ran to crouch behind a water butt. The injured Ben was writhing on the floor, bending and straightening his legs in a vain attempt at easing the
excruciating
pain of his wound. His screaming was harrowing to hear, and Vejar felt sorry for the stricken man.

A flurry of movement caught his eye as Lew Poole ran towards cover provided by a corner of the house. Vejar had no time to get off a shot. Ben’s horrific screaming went on. In between screams, he cried out, ‘Help me, Lew. Please help stop the pain.’

There was no response from Lew Poole, and the injured man’s screams continued to rip through the air. The need to ride into Yancey had Vejar racking his brain to come up with a way of breaking the deadlock. The principal factor against him was that Lew had a rifle. Were it simply an equal contest limited to sidearms, then it would be easier for him to find a
solution
.

Lew Poole called his name. ‘Vejar.’

‘Yes?’

‘We have to help Ben.’

‘
You
have to help Ben,’ Vejar replied. ‘He’s your brother, Lew.’

Ben’s distress had become even more
disturbing
now, and he was sobbing as he cried out for someone to help him.

His brother shouted, ‘In the name of all that’s holy, Vejar, we can’t leave a man to suffer in this way. Where is Michael?’

‘In the house, dead,’ Vejar answered bluntly.

A prolonged silence followed. When Lew Poole called out again it was in a conciliatory tone. ‘Listen to me, Vejar. What was between you and me is finished as far as I’m concerned. I’ve lost one brother today, and I don’t want to lose another.’

‘What do you suggest, Lew?’ Vejar enquired.

‘You holster your gun and I’ll throw out my rifle. We’ll do what we can for Ben, and then you’ll be free to ride out of here. I’m speaking the truth, Vejar. Here’s my rifle.’ Lew’s arm came out from behind the house to toss his rifle into the dust. ‘Now I’ll count to three and we’ll both step out with our hands up. I can’t say fairer than that.’

Turning the proposition over in his mind, Vejar reminded himself that only a fool would trust a Poole. But the situation was an
extraordinary
one. He found Ben’s screaming difficult to bear. It was highly unlikely that Lew would try to double-cross him, as the eldest Poole brother could never beat him on the draw. The pressing situation in Yancey was the deciding factor in
Vejar calling out that he agreed.

‘One … two … three …’ Lew Poole counted.

They both stepped out, guns holstered and hands above their heads. Vejar said, ‘Lower your hands, Lew, and we’ll do what we can for your brother.’

When they got to Ben, both of them knew that he was beyond help. The screaming had ebbed to become a low groaning, and the huge body was convulsing. Looking up at the older brother, Vejar advised, ‘All you can do for Ben is say
adios
, Lew.’

Close to tears, Lew nodded. But then the unexpected happened. Ben Poole opened eyes that, though glazing over, were filled with hatred for Vejar. Amazingly for a man on the edge of death, Ben flung out a massive arm to grab Vejar by the ankle. Trying to free himself and remain upright, Vejar was aware that Lew Poole was going for his gun.

Drawing his own .45, Vejar fired and Lew dropped with a bullet hole between his eyes, his own gun unfired. To get his leg free, Vejar was ready to shoot Ben. But then the thick fingers holding his ankle relaxed, the heavy arm fell away from him. With nothing more than a slight rattling in his throat, Ben Poole died.

Holstering his gun, Vejar sprinted to where
Ben’s horse stood docilely with its head down. Vaulting up over the rear of the horse into the saddle, he reached for the reins to pull the horse round hard and set off at a gallop along the beaten track that led to Yancey.

With those around him protesting, George Harker struggled to sit upright on the bed and swing round to place both feet on the floor. In obvious pain and with his forehead beaded with sweat, he reached for his clothes. Refusing help, it took him a long time to get dressed. His first attempt at getting to his feet was a disaster. Randall rushed to his aid.

‘Leave me, Walter,’ Harker ordered, as he sat back down heavily on the bed.

‘You are his doctor, John,’ Randall pleaded with Thurston. ‘You must put a stop to this.’

With a negative shake of his head, Thurston explained, ‘The sheriff is simply a patient I am treating for a gunshot wound, Walter, nothing more than that. I would not take it upon myself to tell a man what or what not to do.’

‘What I have to do is go across to the church to help Raya,’ Harker said resolutely.

‘We can’t permit you to even try such a thing,’ Henry Drake protested.

‘You had better not try to stop me, Henry,’ Harker warned. His eyes scanned the room. Then he said, ‘Pass me that broom, Wu.’

Obediently, the Chinaman fetched the soft sweeping brush with a long handle that Harker had pointed at. He passed it to the sheriff, who turned it upside down and placed the head under his left armpit. Using the broom as a crutch, Harker eased himself upright off the bed and stood for a moment to allow his sense of balance to settle. Next, still supported by the broom but with both hands free, he picked up his gunbelt and buckled it on.

His clumsy first attempt at drawing his six-gun was a failure that made Walter Randall complain, ‘This is madness, George. Give it up.’

Ignoring this advice, Harker rehearsed his draw again and again. At last his gun was
clearing
leather, but in comparison to his old skill it lacked both co-ordination and speed. Without a word, Lin Chua walked to a dresser that held Harker’s clean bandages and medication. She took out a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler,
filling
it to the rim. Crossing the room in her
soft-footed
way, she passed the full glass to Harker.

Raising the glass to his mouth, Harker drank deeply. Pausing for a moment to let the liquor
work its magic, he then drained the glass.

Looking much stronger now, he reached for his gun. This time it was a fast draw, but the men present were only too well aware that what they had witnessed was a shadow of Harker’s former expertise.

Holstering his gun, the sheriff made his way to the street door. Seeing how dependent Harker was on the support of the broom, Henry Drake made a final plea. ‘Don’t do it, George. I am certain that Vejar is out there somewhere, and he will deal with this.’

Neither replying nor taking a backward glance, Harker, clinging to the handle of the broom with his left hand, opened the door with his right hand and stepped out into the street.

Afraid for Mary more than she was for herself, Raya asked, ‘What is going to happen to us, Carmel?’

‘My name isn’t Carmel.’

‘Sorry. Gloria.’

Raya had made the name mistake because although the outlaw woman tried to assume a tough, threatening manner, the nice person that Raya had known, albeit briefly, could easily be detected below the surface. Since two of the townwomen had some time ago opened the church door to enquire what was happening in
the hall, and Gloria had shouted at them to go back in and shut the door, the three of them had been alone.

‘What is going to happen to us?’ Raya tried enquiring once more.

‘I don’t want anything to happen to either of you, Raya,’ Gloria confessed.

Indicating the rifle that the outlaw held in the crook of her right arm, Raya asked, ‘Then why are you holding us captive?’

Taking some Bull Durham and papers from her shirt pocket, Gloria didn’t respond while she deftly rolled a cigarette. Putting the cigarette in her mouth she flicked a match with a thumbnail to ignite it. Lighting the cigarette, she inhaled deeply, held her breath, and then exhaled a smoky sigh.

‘Your lifestyle and mine are very different, Raya,’ she explained quietly. ‘I am an outlaw, and therefore have to rob in order to eat, to live. Unfortunately, you and your friend are a part of our plan to rob the bank, and I am under orders.’

‘Orders to do what?’ Raya enquired fearfully, but if Gloria had intended to reply, a fist hammering on the door prevented her from doing so.

‘Are you all ready in there if I need you, Gloria?’ a man’s voice shouted.

‘I’m ready,’ Gloria called back, then asked with a little tremor in her voice. ‘Has Fallon Vejar shown up?’

Raya joined Gloria in a suspenseful wait for an answer.

‘No,’ the male voice shouted. ‘But what I’d say is Sheriff George Harker has just come out on the street and is heading my way. He’s using a stick to limp along, so he isn’t likely to cause me any bother. But you be ready just in case he
doesn’t
see sense.’

Glancing at Raya and Mary, sadness in her eyes, Gloria brought her rifle round in front of her and held it with both hands. Then she called to the man outside. ‘I’ll be ready.’

Intimidated by Gloria’s stance with her rifle, Raya and Mary reached for and clasped each other’s hands tightly.

Having got down off the boardwalk into the street with difficulty, George Harker started slowly and painfully across the street. Klugg stood outside the church, his jacket pulled back clear of his holstered gun. Another outlaw stood beside him in the deceptively relaxed stance of a mountain lion about to spring on its prey. The experienced Harker spotted an outlaw who stood holding a rifle up on the flat roof of a building next to the church. The odds were
stacked against him, but Harker was undeterred.

‘Hold it right there, Sheriff,’ Klugg said, when Harker was in the centre of the street. ‘Where’s Vejar?’

‘He’ll be here, Klugg. But right now this is between you and me,’ Harker replied, swaying a little as the effort in crossing the street sapped his already depleted strength.

Seeing this brought a grin to Klugg’s face. He shifted his hips a little, ready for action, then said quietly, ‘Then I guess you’d better slap leather, Sheriff.’

‘This is bad.’

A grim-faced Walter Randall gave his muttered opinion as he and the others watched from the teashop window. There could be only one ending to what was happening in the street, and it horrified them to think of it. Though unable to hear what was being said, it was plain that the outlaw leader was taunting the
courageous
sheriff.

Dr Thurston warned them hoarsely, ‘George Harker is on the verge of collapse.’

‘A thousand curses on Vejar for getting us into this position,’ Henry Drake moaned.

‘
Us
?’ Thurston questioned cynically. ‘It’s the sheriff who’s in this position, not us, Henry.’

‘No,’ Randall said loudly and resolutely. ‘No,
goddammit, it’s time we gave Harker some help.’

Going to the back of the room, he picked up a shotgun and hurried back to the window. The Chinese couple released an involuntarily duet of squealing as Randall used the butt of the weapon to shatter the windowpane. The doctor and Henry Drake first protested loudly, then begged Randall not to use the gun. Unheeding, he rested the barrel of the shotgun on the bottom of the now glassless window frame and pointed it across the street.

Everything happened fast from that moment on. Too fast for anyone to take it all in. His damaged body letting him down at last, Sheriff George Harker crumpled on to the dusty street and lay inert. Klugg and the outlaw beside him dropped to the boardwalk and lay flat. With the muzzle of the shotgun menacing them through the broken window across the street, Klugg yelled, ‘Whoever you are, lay down that weapon or face the consequences.’

Henry Drake pleaded with Randall. ‘You have to do what he says, Walter.’

‘Put the gun down, Walter,’ Dr Thurston ordered, but was ignored by Randall.

Still lying flat, Klugg shot his right leg back to kick the door of the church, calling out, ‘Do it,
now
!’

The hysterical screaming of a woman quickly followed the sharp bark of a rifle inside the church. The screaming continued, becoming unearthly as it spiralled higher. It seemed to gain volume in the teashop as it echoed around the room. The white-faced occupants looked at each other in dismay.

Letting go of the shotgun as he slumped into a sitting position on the floor, Walter Randall groaned, ‘What have I done?’

‘You’ve got young Raya Kennedy shot,’ Henry Drake told him accusingly.

John Thurston silenced them as Klugg started to shout from across the street. ‘You there. If you stay out of this, then nobody else will get hurt.’

‘I’m a doctor,’ Thurston called back. ‘The sheriff will die if he’s left lying out there. Will you allow us to bring him in?’

‘No. The sheriff got himself where he is, so he’ll have to make his own way back,’ Klugg answered coldly. Then he asked, ‘Where’s Vejar?’

‘That’s what we’d like to know,’ Dr Thurston whispered to no one in particular.

At last succeeding in calming down the distraught Mary Alcott, Raya wiped her friend’s eyes and face with a handkerchief. A sobbing Mary croaked, ‘I thought I was about to die.’

Raya looked gratefully at Gloria, who had deliberately fired her rifle into the floor. Sensing Raya’s eyes on her, Gloria kept her head turned away as she said, ‘Don’t ride your luck, either of you. That’s probably the last chance I’ll have to do either of you a favour.’

‘There was no shooting outside, so I hope that George is all right,’ Raya mused anxiously.

‘I doubt it,’ Gloria warned, ‘and things are sure to get worse.’ She added worriedly, ‘It would have gone without a hitch had Vejar been here. Do you know where he is, Raya?’

Raya shook her head. ‘I don’t. I can’t
understand
it, because Fallon wouldn’t let George Harker down.’

‘Fallon isn’t the type to let anyone down,’ Gloria commented softly.

‘Do you know him?’ an astonished Raya enquired, surprised to experience a painful stab of jealousy.

‘I know him,’ Gloria replied.

Then she said no more.

Dismounting at the edge of town when he heard the rifle shot, Vejar continued up the deserted street on foot, keeping in tight to the buildings. There was no sign of any activity at the bank just up ahead. That supported Vejar’s estimation that the sound of the shot had come from
further up the street. Guessing that Walter Randall had put the two lads in position inside the bank, he bent over double to avoid being blasted by shotgun pellets as he passed the window.

To his left, four horses were hitched to a rail close to the church. Recognizing Gloria Malone’s palomino, he knew that the Klugg gang was in town.

On noticing something odd about the appearance of Wu Chua’s teashop, Vejar backed into a doorway while he studied the place. The movement of a cloud across the sun solved the problem for him by revealing a broken window. Moving out from the doorway, Vejar spotted the figure of a man lying face downwards in the street. Unable to identify the prone figure, he accepted that the danger lay in the vicinity of the Chinese man’s place. His guess was that Randall and the other town councillors had moved into the teashop to be with George Harker when the bank robbers had arrived. There wasn’t a
fighting
man among them, except for the sheriff, whose gunshot wound had put him out of action. That made the shattered window all the more perturbing.

Needing to find out the exact situation as soon as possible, he ran across the street. Turning into an alleyway, he made his way to the
back of Wu Chua’s premises. Reaching the high fence of the back yard, he stretched his arms upward to grasp the top of the wooden fence, and pulled himself up.

‘The town’s wide open,’ a pleased Klugg commented to Mitchell Staley. ‘The sheriff’s lying over there in the dust. Vejar isn’t going to show now. He has abandoned his own people, and those old-timers across the street won’t cause us no more bother.’

‘So we move on the bank now?’ Staley, who had been growing impatient at the delay, said hopefully.

‘I’ll get Jack down from the roof and we’ll go—’ Klugg shut off in mid-sentence as Jack shouted down from his rooftop
position
.

‘Klugg,’ Jack yelled. ‘Vejar’s just climbed over the back fence of that place across the street.’

Tanned face instantly losing its pleased expression, Klugg called back ‘Are you sure, Jack?’

‘I’m sure.’

‘I guess this changes everything,’ Mitchell Staley said. Though made fearless by the harsh life he had led, he found himself longing right then to be anywhere other than in the town of Yancey.

Vejar’s jaw muscles clenched as he listened to the three councillors. Desperately worried at hearing that Klugg held Raya hostage, he was badly shaken when John Thurston added that they had good reason to believe that she had already been killed.

‘You can’t be certain of that,’ Vejar argued, in an attempt at giving himself hope.

‘There was a shot and a woman screamed,’ Henry Drake explained.

‘So, what are we to do, Vejar?’ enquired Walter Randall, having largely recovered from his distress at causing what was probably a fatal incident. ‘Klugg and one of his men are over there outside of the church, and there’s another man with a rifle up on Mortimer’s flat roof.’

That meant it was Gloria Malone inside the church. Hopeful for a moment that the
opportunity
might present itself for him to talk to Gloria, Vejar dismissed the idea. She was an outlaw robbing a bank, and would not be dissuaded from her purpose.

He answered Randall. ‘The first thing is to get George in off the street to see if there’s anything the doc can do for him. Henry, will you come out with Walter to carry the sheriff back in?’

Swallowing hard, Henry Drake said, ‘Of
course I will, but aren’t we likely to be gunned down once we step out of the door?’

Not replying, Vejar went to the window. Keeping to one side, he called out. ‘Klugg, this is Fallon Vejar.’