Nicademus: The Wild Ones (22 page)

The sheriff saw the horse first. No one riding, the animal charged through town as if the devil was after its hide. And soon they understood why.
Henry.
Dragged listless behind the animal, bound and gagged, he was covered in dirt and blood.

“Henry!” the sheriff yelled. “Henry!” The sheriff ran for the edge of the building, ready to leap down. Jeremiah was up and after him. He tackled the hollering man and brought him down on the rooftop hard. His hand covered the sheriff’s mouth. The sheriff fought like a madman and for a minute he nearly tossed Jeremiah off him. But he held him down. And then he heard a shot. Both men froze.

“Off me! Get the fuck off me!” the sheriff hit Jeremiah in the jaw and the blow stunned him. He rolled off in agony. He double blinked and got to his feet and joined the sheriff at the edge of the roof. Someone fired a gun to stop the horse and shot it dead, dead as young Henry. Jeremiah’s heart stopped when he saw who had wielded the weapon. It was Annabelle. She dropped the gun and ran for the young man’s body.

“Henry!” she wailed. “No! No! No! Henry!!!” She threw her body over his. She brought him into her arms and screamed a blood-curdling cry of grief to the sky. The others came running too.

“Get my boy!” the sheriff said as he too started to scale down the building.

“Wait! Wait! Everyone! It’s a trap! Annabelle! Go back! Wait!” Jeremiah yelled to the townspeople pouring into the streets. Jeremiah’s warning was either not heard or ignored. They were too concerned with the slaughter of one of their own. Jeremiah looked to the east. And his fears were confirmed. Shepherd and his posse rode straight into town.

No one would ever agree on who fired first. The blasts from every gun deafened him. The posse came fast. Several were shot dead where they stood. Others returned fire. Shepherd and his men had ruined the element of surprise with their special delivery. Men and women who were prepared to fight were being gun downed in the streets. Jeremiah fired from both guns until empty and fired again to give his Annabelle cover.

Please God keep her safe. Please God keep her safe.

A man fell off the rooftop in front of him. Two horses and two men were brought down below him. He could not win the fight from up there. He had no time to get below. Jeremiah ducked to reload. He rejoined the fight. He brought down three, then four men. But there was no sign of Annabelle. Not at first.

“Fuck this!” he grunted. He ducked and ran to the back of the roof. He scaled down. He dropped to his feet and nearly met his fate. A man misfired. He returned fire and killed him. He ran on. Just as he rounded the building he was able to see three of Shepherd’s men cornering several of the townspeople. Their backs were to him. He shot two dead. The third turned and fired. Wood splintered from the wall of the store behind Jeremiah. He dived for cover. Several of Shepherd’s men saw him. He was hard to miss. The only pale face among the townspeople gunning them down. He was an important target. That was what he had hoped for, to keep Annabelle safe.

Jeremiah tried hard to find cover. He had too many blind spots. And the firepower of Shepherd’s men was unrelenting. But the townspeople refused to concede. More of them came out into the open to join the fight. He glanced up to see that the sheriff was still on the rooftop taking aim. It became chaos. He couldn’t tell who was shooting at whom. Shepherd’s crew were either thrown off their horses or leaped off, dodging the gunfire. Jeremiah tried to reload but his eyes lifted once more and he saw her. She was outside of the saloon firing at the men.

“Annabelle!” Jeremiah yelled in a voice barely heard. Smoke and sulfur filled his lungs and he coughed. He strained to see her through it all. Six men were down but Shepherd had six more. And from the sound of the hooves pounding the ground and riding in, he anticipated the number increasing. He prayed he was wrong. The bastards kept coming. And to his horror they were providing cover to send several men toward the saloon. One of the men he recognized: it was Tyler Shepherd.

Jeremiah lifted the gun and fired, wounding one as the men ran inside with Shepherd. “They’re in the saloon!” he yelled. “The saloon!” He pointed. “They ran into the saloon!”

Annabelle couldn’t hear him. But she saw him pointing. When she turned a bullet just missed her face. She fell back and fired, killing her assailant. Ms. Kitty was all alone inside with the children and elderly. Damn it. They would need her help. She scrambled to her feet and raced to the opposite side of the saloon. If she got to the back entrance she could use the element of surprise.

“I got you, bitch!” he snarled.

The gun fell from her hand. She fought with all her might and she heard Jeremiah yelling her name. She couldn’t see him. The chokehold of her attacker’s arm around her throat was impossibly tight. She clawed and kicked as he dragged her away from the gunfight.

“You want to go inside? Yeah! Let me take you!” the man laughed. “Is this her, boss?”

Another man, taller, meaner looking, stepped before her. He looked her over. “She ain’t the one I remember,” he said with disgust.

“Let her go! I’m the one you looking for.”

The giant’s head turned, and Annabelle was able to see who spoke. It was Honey. She stood in the alley with a rifle aimed at him.

“I means it!” Honey said.

The man tossed his trench coat back to reveal his holstered guns. “You killed two of my men in the train car. Do you know who I am, bitch?” he said.

Annabelle was confused. She thought the men were after her. Ms. Kitty said Honey had left Tyler Shepherd alive when they sent her in to poison him. No one had said anything about killing more of these men. But it was evident Honey had, because Honey always did things her way.

“Cain’t say that I give a fuck,” replied Honey.

The giant chuckled. She pulled the trigger, but the rifle just clicked, empty.

Annabelle’s eyes began to water. If they gunned down Honey, she couldn’t bear to see it. After losing Henry her heart couldn’t suffer another loss. “Run, Honey! Please! Run!” she begged. She fought with all her might but the man holding her began to strangle her he held on to her neck so tight.

The giant cocked his head, amused that Honey was weaponless. He reached in and drew both of his guns, and Honey tossed her useless rifle aside. She faced him with not a bit of fear. He then tossed both guns aside. “They call me Abraham. And I’m going to teach you a lesson you won’t ever forget.”

Honey reached into the sides of her belt and brought out two long knives. She smiled at the man from under her hat. “Show me what you got, boss,” she said.

“What about this one?” the man holding a kicking and fighting Annabelle asked.

“Take her inside. Give her to the boys. I come for her.”

“No! No! Honey, don’t! Run!” Annabelle screamed at her.

Honey tossed her floppy hat aside and handled her knives. She didn’t run. Instead she ran straight for the gunslinger, aiming for his throat.

**

The boys had their orders. Find the outlaw, while the others riding in with him gave cover. There was only one person he intended to find. Cora. Shepherd coughed and wheezed through his breathing. His entire body felt several degrees hotter and his throat desert dry. The worst of it was his vision. Several times doing the search for the outlaw and then his return and discovery of his dead men, his vision had blurred and he had suffered a bout of dizziness. None of it gave him pause. He was on a mission. He coughed again as he entered the doors. He removed his handkerchief and wiped at his mouth. He found blood.
He was coughing up blood now too?
What the fuck had he caught?

“Find her!” he ordered. “Now!”

The men took off for the stairs and the doors below. The door to the back of the saloon kicked open and Mathew dragged inside a fighting, kicking, screaming woman. Shepherd narrowed his eyes on the wench. And then he smiled.

“Aah, I was hoping to see you again,” he said.

Cora stood.

The others, including the children, knew to be silent when she did. She heard Shepherd’s voice. She strained to see through the cracks in the wood, and struggled to ascertain whom the woman they’d captured was. Honey was out there with the men fighting for the town and so was Annabelle. It could be either of them. Most of her saloon girls were down below helping her with the children.

“Where’s Cora? Where is she?” Shepherd shouted at the woman.

“Shit! Shit!” Cora said, under her breath. She began to pace.

“Ms. Kitty? What we gon’ do?” Jessiemae whispered.

Cora looked at the rifle in her hand and then at Jessiemae. Her gaze lifted to the terrified children in the basement. The time had come for her to act. “Take it!” she told Jessiemae. “Shoot anyone who comes down. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jessiemae agreed.

After a long inhalation and exhalation, Cora found her courage. “Don’t leave. No matter what happens, stay quiet and stay here,” she said in a whisper. With no choice, Cora went to the rope ladder and started to climb.

**

“How many went inside?” the sheriff asked. During the reloading of his gun he had met up with the sheriff, who had crawled to the back of a building. He bled from his leg and his side. He’d taken two bullets and was still wielding his gun. Many were dead. The problem was they couldn’t tell how many were still alive.

“They have Annabelle,” Jeremiah panted. “I’m going in. You can’t stop me!”

“I can and I will!” the sheriff pointed his gun at Jeremiah. “Just as you stopped me from saving my boy! When they sent him through town beaten to death! It’s your fault! You and men like you!” the sheriff’s eyes watered. The accusation winded him. Jeremiah nodded.

“It’s my fault. But you can deal with me later. First we have to save them. Cora is inside with those children. You want to give up on them too?” he asked.

The sheriff’s torment broke him. He dropped the gun, shaking his head.

“Go in there. All dead,” Red Sun said. He walked up with his bloody hatchet. He had spoken English for the second time. Both men looked up at him, relieved the Indian was fighting on their side.

“Stay out here and they’re all dead!” Jeremiah reminded them both. His greatest fear was that Annabelle wouldn’t last long. Her temper would make her foolish. And Shepherd’s temper could make him deadly. “We have to decide on something now! Now, I say!”

“Me. I go,” Red Sun said. “You,” he said and pointed at the sheriff. With a stick in his hand he drew a square and an x in the dirt. “Shoot and kill for us.”

The sheriff nodded that he understood.

Red Sun pointed the stick at Jeremiah and then drew another square and an x. “You. Here,” he said. Jeremiah understood the directions: they were both to take position.

“Agreed,” the sheriff said.

“Agreed,” Jeremiah said.

**

Honey was quick with the knife. The blade sliced through his cheek as slick as it would split cream. The cut was so deep it revealed the gums and teeth of the man’s jaw. Blood squirted and sprayed out of his face. Abraham, the giant, staggered back in shock. But his recovery was swift. She lunged to go for his throat, and he swung, slamming his sledgehammer sized fist into her gut. Honey doubled over and then fell backward. She landed hard. She rolled in time to miss his boot heel coming down to crush her face. She rolled again and missed the kick he aimed at her head. In doing so she lost one knife. But the other she threw and hit him in the chest. She scooted back on hands and knees expecting it to be a fatal blow. She was wrong.

There was blood. Lot and lots of blood. He only grunted with rage and kept coming. What kind of man was he? She glanced around and saw one of his guns. But could she reach it in time? The man snatched the blade out of his chest as if it had no effect on him. He was charging toward her. She scrambled on hands and knees to the weapon and before her fingers connected with the grip, Abraham kicked her in the side so hard she was tossed like a rag doll into the side of the saloon. Honey vomited. The pain was too intense. She had known all kinds of pain in her life, but nothing that shockingly brutal.

“I’ll kill you, bitch!” he spat a clot of blood and his words slurred, the skin to his jaw hung in a grotesque fashion as if it were peeling from his face. He was a horror, his height, his gaping wound, and the madness for murder in his eyes.

She grabbed her side and sat with her back pressed to the building. There was no escape. She was ready to die and reunite with her babies and sweet husband in heaven. She was ready. She closed her eyes and waited for the deathblow. Lord knows she would have joined them sooner if suicide weren’t the most unforgiveable sin against God. A gun fired. She felt nothing. Is that what death felt like? Nothing? She opened her eyes expecting to see a bullet hole in her chest. The man, Abraham, was flat on his face. Behind him stood the outlaw with a smoking gun.

Honey groaned. “You should have let him kill me.”

He walked over and stooped before her. “How bad are you hurt?” he asked, giving her a look over. “Annabelle and Cora, the children, they need your help.”

“A little kick to the gut never kept a girl down. Help me stand.”