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Authors: Robert Vaughan

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“Do you see any sign of life?” Hawke asked. He was referring to a ripsawed and weathered structure that sat on the bank of the creek, just before the creek joined the river.

“There’s no one there that I can see,” Jesse answered.

They didn’t have a pair of field glasses, but Jesse did have the scope on his rifle, and he was using it as a spyglass. “I would say that the shack is empty.”

“Then what do you say we ride down there and check it out?” Hawke suggested. “If they came through here, we might get a lead on how far ahead they are.”

The two men rode across a small opening until they reached the line shack, approaching it not from the front, or even from a windowed wall, but from the blind side. And there, on the blind side of the shack, they dismounted and ground-tethered their horses.

Hawke pulled his pistol and noticed that Jesse had done the same thing. How vastly different this efficient warrior was from the mild-mannered, almost meek preacher he had met several weeks ago.

They moved quietly along the wall until they reached the corner. Then, stepping around the corner, they approached the window. Hawke looked inside.

“Anything?” Jesse whispered.

“I don’t see anything.”

The two men moved to the door. Hawke pushed it open hard, then stepped back out of the door opening.

There was no reaction.

Cautiously, the two men entered, looked around, and then, satisfied that it was empty, put their guns away.

There was a woodstove in the center of the single room, and Hawke went over to smell it. “It’s been used in the last few days,” he said.

“By the people we’re after?”

Hawke shook his head. “I don’t think so. Look around. The dishes are washed, the floor is clean. Nobody who is on the run would leave it like this.”

Jesse began looking through the cabinets. Seeing a sack, he opened it, then sniffed its contents and smiled broadly. “Hey, Hawke, there are some coffee beans here. How’d you like a cup of coffee?”

 

Cracker couldn’t believe his luck. Jessup had sent him back to see if he could spot the two men following them, and he saw their horses tied to the front of the old line shack Jessup had chosen as a trap but that they hadn’t gotten to yet. A wisp of smoke was curling up from the chimney. Hurrying back to report what he had found, he overtook Jessup and the others about a mile up the trail.

“Did you see them?” Jessup asked when Cracker rode up to make his report.

“Yes, sir, I seen ’em,” he said, and smiled broadly. “They are at the shack.”

“Damn,” Jessup said. “I thought we had more of a lead on them. We’d better get there before they leave.”

“Major, you don’t understand,” Cracker said. “Looks like they just got to the shack. And they got ’em a fire goin’, which means they’re goin’ to stay for a while.”

Jessup nodded. “All right,” he said. “That’s good. Let’s go. This is where it ends, once and for all.”

“I’m going to like this,” Deekus said. “I’m going to like this a lot.”

 

Hawke had just started to take a swallow of his coffee when a fusillade of shots rang out. They crashed through the two windows and the door.

“Get down!” he yelled, though his warning wasn’t necessary as Jesse was already on the floor, gun in hand, crawling toward one of the windows.

Hawke crawled to the other and the two men began returning fire.

For the next several minutes there was a ferocious exchange of gunfire, and Hawke had the satisfaction of seeing at least three of his targets go down. Jesse was as accurate, as Hawke saw more than one of his targets fall.

“Hawke, how many bullets do you have left?”

“I just reloaded and I have about four more,” Hawke replied. “How about you?”

“I’m out, but I have some more in my saddlebag. I’m going to get them.”

“No!” Hawke said. “You’ll never make it!”

“We’ll both be out in another minute, then all they’ll have to do is come in here and shoot us like rats in a trap.”

“Jesse, no, don’t try it,” Hawke said, but even as he was calling out his warning, Jesse dashed toward the front door.

He didn’t make it. Hawke saw a mist of blood fly up from his chest as he was hit. Jesse fell back inside, and Hawke, crawling, went over to him, pulled him out of the doorway and away from the line of fire.

“You were right. I should have listened to you,” Jesse said.

“How badly are you hit?” Hawke asked.

“I’m dying, Hawke,” Jesse replied in a strained voice.

“Maybe it’s not as bad as you think,” Hawke said.

“You and I have both been around a lot of dying men,” Jesse said. “I always wondered how they knew. Now I know. I’m dying.”

More bullets slammed against the outside wall and crashed through the window.

“I wonder if God will accept a prayer of contrition from me?” Jesse asked, exerting himself to talk.

“Who is the prayer of contrition for, if not for people like us?” Hawke said. “You start it, I will say it with you.”

“I’m going to say it in Latin.”

“Deus meus, ex toto corde,”
Hawke started.

“You know Latin?” Jesse smiled, then picked it up as they continued to pray together.

“Paenitet me omnium meorum peccatorum, eaque detestor, quia peccando, non solum poenas a Te iust statutes promeritus sum, sed praesertim quia offendi Te, summum bonum, ac dignum qui super omnia diligaris. Ideo firmiter propono, adiuvante gratia Tua, de cetero me non peccaturum peccandique occasiones prosimas fugiturum. Amen.”

“Thank you, Hawke,” Jesse said. Then he gasped for breath a couple of times and quit breathing.

“Are you both dead in there? Or are you just out of ammunition?” a voice called from outside.

Staying low, Hawke crawled back over to the window and looked outside. He saw someone rise up to get a look, and Hawke fired, but missed.

His shot had the effect of bringing on another fusillade.

Hawke rose up and fired three more times, mostly to let them know there was still someone left and that he still had ammo.

He opened the cylinder and punched out the three empty cartridges, then replaced them. Now his pistol was fully loaded, but he had no bullets beyond that.

 

“Son of a bitch, they still have some fight left,” Jessup said.

“Yeah, but it don’t seem like there’s as much shootin’ as there was,” Deekus said.

“All right, Tex, now is the time to light the fire,” Jessup ordered.

Tex nodded, then started out, running behind the ridgeline so as not to be seen from the shack. He spotted stacks of dry
weeds, sticks, and wood at the corner of the house. Someone could approach here without being seen, and a fire could be started that would involve the entire house within moments.

Tex lit the fire, then ran back around the ridgeline to rejoin Jessup, Deekus, and Cracker. There were only four left of the ten who had come to spring the trap.

By the time Tex got back, the little line shack was burning fiercely.

“Seen anybody come out yet?” Tex asked.

“No, but they’ll be coming out soon,” Jessup said. “So be ready for them.”

 

Hawke was trapped. He couldn’t go out the front door or one of the front windows without being shot. And he couldn’t stay in the house.

The smoke was getting unbearable, and he had to get down on his stomach and keep his nose to the floor in order to breathe. He moved to the back corner of the house, though he knew there was no place he could actually go.

Then, as he lay there, he felt a breath of fresh air coming in through the cracks of the floor planking. As he examined it, he saw that it was more than cracks, that there was a trap-door in the floor. When he opened it, he saw water. The house had been built over a small tributary and this was the water supply!

“Yes!” he said happily. He crawled back to Jesse’s body, grabbed him by the foot, pulled him to the hole, then dropped him through. Hawke went down after him, falling into the water below.

The water was nearly waist deep, and he followed it to the edge of the house, then ducked down and swam underwater until he cleared the edge. Coming up on the other side, he waded down to the junction of the tributary and the creek, then crawled up the bank and sat there a moment while catching his breath.

From where he sat, he had an excellent view of the shack,
which was now nearly totally consumed by the fire. He also saw Jessup, Deekus, Tex, and Cracker standing about fifty yards away, watching it burn. All four were holding pistols in their hands, waiting for someone to try and escape.

Hawke dropped back down behind the bank and went downstream several yards, then crawled up the bank again for another view. This time he was behind Jessup and his men. He climbed over the bank and began walking toward them, as casually as if he were strolling down main street.

“I hope they ain’t dead yet,” he heard Deekus say. “I want ’em to burn.”

“Yeah, like they’re in hell,” Tex added.

“Funny you should mention hell, since that’s where I’m about to send you,” Hawke said.

Startled, the four men turned around. Then, seeing that Hawke’s gun was still in his holster, they smiled.

“Well now, would you like to tell me how you are going to do that, with your gun in your holster?” Jessup asked.

“I think I’d rather show you,” Hawke replied.

Before the last word was out of Hawke’s mouth, the gun was in his hand. Not one of the four had even raised their pistols yet, thinking they had the advantage.

“What the hell?” Jessup shouted, bringing his pistol up too late. He was the first to die, and Deekus was second. Neither one of them managed to get off a shot.

Tex and Cracker both got off shots, but both missed.

Hawke didn’t.

 

Hawke waited until the fire had burned down and the timbers cooled enough for him to go back. He found Jesse’s body underneath, preserved by the water.

He buried Jesse at the point where the creek and the river joined. Making a cross from two timbers that had not been completely consumed by the fire, he erected it over Jesse’s grave. Then he used a piece of charcoal to write on the cross, choosing the words of the Good Thief.

LORD, REMEMBER ME WHEN THOU COMEST
INTO THY KINGDOM

Leaving the others unburied, Hawke mounted his horse and rode away knowing that somewhere, on the other side of the next range of hills, just over the horizon, there would be another town, another saloon, another piano.

A chill wind blew down from the north. There would be snow in the higher elevations soon.

Maybe he would go south.

About the Author

ROBERT VAUGHAN
is a retired army officer and full-time novelist. His book
Survival
(under the pseudonym K.C. McKenna) won the Spur Award for best western novel (1994). He lives with his wife, Ruth, in Gulf Shores, Alabama.

Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

Books by Robert Vaughan

HAWKE

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

HAWKE
:
THE LAW OF A FAST GUN
. Copyright © 2006 by Robert Vaughan. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

ePub edition October 2006 ISBN 9780061746536

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