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Authors: Luke; Short

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“That if I keep my mouth shut they'll think there's only one man here. They might take a chance and rush it.”

“You'll kill some of them,” Jen said quietly.

“So I'd better call out to Orv and tell him fifty men are on their way. I'd better tell himâ”

Wilsey yelled from above, “Here they come, Stape!” and he began to shoot. Harvey back of the bunkhouse joined in. Stape now kneeled down and started shooting around the door. Reese spun Jen roughly back against the log wall.

It sounded to Reese as if all the Hoads were shooting for a fusillade poured into the barn from the barn lot. From the angle at which Stape was shooting Reese guessed that all the Hoads were headed for the adjoining wagon shed, where they had left their horses that Wilsey cunningly had led through the side door from the wagon shed into the barn. From outside now came howls of rage or pain, Reese couldn't tell which. He picked up a vicious cursing that came from the wagon shed. Now Reese drew his six-gun, hobbled away from Jen and faced where he guessed the side door from the wagon shed was. It opened now with a crash, and Reese shot chest high at only the sound of footfalls charging through the door. On the heel of his shot came a great grunting, strangled cough and he heard Wilsey call, “Hold it! Hold it!”

From the barn lot came Buddy's shrill cry, “We quit! We quit, don't shoot! We quit!”

Reese heard Wilsey yell, “Throw down your guns. Come up to the barn door.”

Reese reached in his pocket, drew out a match and wiped it alight on his crutch. By its light he saw Orville Hoad face down on the dirt floor some eight feet inside the barn. Reese looked about him now, saw a lantern hanging from a stall timber and hobbling over to it, he took it down, sprung the chimney and lighted its wick.

Stape had risen now and stepped out into the night. Reese's glance shifted to Jen. The fright was fading from her face, Reese saw. Now, his pistol long since holstered, he lurched toward the door, the lantern in his hand. As he stepped out into the night he held the lantern high. He could make out three forms lying in the barn lot. His glance shifted to the door where he saw Ty and Buddy leaning against it. Buddy was cradling his arm by the palm of his other hand, and his head was hung. Ty only stared down at the mud.

Wilsey now called down from the loft door, “Them three out there ain't moved, Sheriff, but don't be surprised if I have to shoot.”

Reese felt Jen come up beside him, and now he turned and headed into the barn lot toward the prone slickered figures. Just within range of the lantern light he could see Harvey, rifle dangling from his hand, coming toward him. The first figure was that of Wash Plunket, lying face up and lifeless. Beyond him was Big John, his face so deeply buried in the mud that he could not be alive.

Now Reese moved to the third body, and when he approached he felt a wild and dreadful premonition. He lunged desperately to close the distance, and then he halted, holding the lantern high.

It was Callie, her sightless eyes unblinking in the slow rain.

He tried to kneel and could not, but Jen knelt for him, touching Callie's face first, then lifting her arm and feeling the wrist for the pulse. Then she looked up at Reese and shook her head in negation.

Reese stared dumbly at Callie, trying to comprehend this. The rain hissed softly on the lantern glass and Reese was aware that someone had come up beside him.

“Christ! A woman! My God, I didn't know! I was sound shootin'.”

“You couldn't know,” Reese said, never taking his glance from Callie's thin, child's face. It was oddly serene in death, he thought, as if she were relieved that her quarrel with him and with her own world was blessedly over.

He was aware now that Minnie had come out of the house and was approaching. When she halted before him she asked, “Where's Orv?”

“Dead.” Now Reese gestured with the lantern toward Callie. “Why did you let her go?”

“Because she held a gun on me.”

He was aware now that Jen was shrugging out of her raincoat, and he watched as she spread it over Callie, covering her face. It was a kind gesture, a last gesture from the woman he could now marry.

About the Author

Luke Short is the pen name of Frederick Dilley Glidden (1908â1975), the bestselling, award-winning author of over fifty classic western novels and hundreds of short stories. Renowned for their action-packed story lines, multidimensional characters, and vibrant dialogue, Glidden's novels sold over thirty million copies. Ten of his novels, including
Blood on the Moon
,
Coroner Creek
, and
Ramrod
, were adapted for the screen. Glidden was the winner of a special Western Heritage Trustees Award and the Levi Strauss Golden Saddleman Award from the Western Writers of America.

Born in Kewanee, Illinois, Glidden graduated in 1930 from the University of Missouri where he studied journalism. After working for several newspapers, he became a trapper in Canada and, later, an archaeologist's assistant in New Mexico. His first story, “Six-Gun Lawyer,” was published in
Cowboy Stories
magazine in 1935 under the name F. D. Glidden. At the suggestion of his publisher, he used the pseudonym Luke Short, not realizing it was the name of a real gunman and gambler who was a friend of Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp. In addition to his prolific writing career, Glidden worked for the Office of Strategic Services during World War II. He moved to Aspen, Colorado, in 1946, and became an active member of the Aspen Town Council, where he initiated the zoning laws that helped preserve the town.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Andy Ross

ISBN: 978-1-5040-4087-7

This edition published in 2016 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

180 Maiden Lane

New York, NY 10038

www.openroadmedia.com