The Sunshine Killers (14 page)

“I don't know,” McGraw said. He was huddled down below the window, hugging the wall. “You fools have allowed this mess.”

Billy said, “Just stay out of the middle of the room. Big as that gun of his is it can't shoot through the walls.”

“Yeah, but what are we going to do about that hombre out there? He's got us bottled up tight.”

William was peering over the ledge of the window, searching the horizon. “Yonder he is,” he said. “Up there on top of the ridge just to the left of the women's house.”

They all risked a look sticking their heads up gingerly as if they expected a shot at any instant. Saulter was clearly visible, outlined against the brilliantly blue sky, on top of a hummock a full half mile distant. As they watched a puff of black smoke suddenly clouded his figure and a bullet came whistling through the top of the window, shattering sash and wooden shutters. They ducked instinctively, even though the bullet was already past. A shower of wood and plaster fell down on their shoulders.

“Well,” Billy said dryly, “we know now that a four-hundred-yard shot wouldn't have been shucks for him.”

In the knowledge that it would take him a few seconds to reload they again peered over the ledge. Saulter was where he was before. They could see him deliberately breaking down his rifle and inserting another shell. McGraw said in a voice a pitch too high for normal, “Shoot him! Somebody shoot him!” A new emotion was mixing in with his rage: fear.

It was not yet fear for his life, but was more a shocked realization that all of his carefully laid plans were somehow going awry. It had not come fully home to him yet because he couldn't conceive how one man could dismantle preparations that had taken months and countless sums of money. Even in the ludicrous position he suddenly found himself occupying, he still clung to the impregnable protection of the money he represented as proof against almost anything. It had always been that way in the past and it was not now part of his subconscious thinking to feel otherwise. But panic was beginning to edge into his normally ordered mind. He demanded again, “Shoot him, I say!”

“It's too far, Mister McGraw. He's out of range. That cannon of his must carry a mile.”

“This is pitiful!” McGraw said viciously. “I supposedly hired the best gunmen in the country and they can't handle one meat hunter! Here we are, pinned down like rabbits!”

The gun boomed out again and the top half of the window disappeared. They ducked quickly behind the protecting ledge amid a shower of glass. Billy muttered, “I told Tomlain to leave that fellow alone. I told him!”

McGraw snarled, “You should have killed him.” He took a cautious peek above the ledge. “We've got to get him.”

“How, Mister McGraw?”

“Rush him.”

Billy shuddered. “That'd be suicide. He'd pick us off before we got within a hundred yards. We'd never even get to the horses.”

McGraw looked around calculating. William pointed to Chiffo. “How about that half-breed yonder? We could send him to bring the horses.”

“Do it,” McGraw ordered.

Running crouched, as if under open fire, William dashed across the room and pulled Chiffo to his feet. Roughly he shoved him along to the back door. “Got an errand for you, boy.”

“I don't go, Meester. I scairt.”

“You'll be dead, you ain't damned quick,” William said brutally. He jerked the door open. “You run yonder to that barn and tell them two men to get over here with horses. You got that?”

“I don't go.”

“You go,” William said. He put his pistol to Chiffo's head. “Tell 'em to shelter behind this building. Now git!” He shoved Chiffo through the door.

The boy took off running, but instead of heading for the barn, he turned for the bunkhouse. William swore. “That little sonofabitch!” He aimed his revolver and fired two shots quickly. One went wild, but one caught Chiffo in the calf of one leg and he went spinning into the snow, five yards short of the bunkhouse door. Seeing he'd only wounded the boy, William fired again, but Chiffo was up, like a three-legged cat, scuttling for the door. A bullet hit the door near his head, but in another instant, he was inside.

William turned back to the front, standing erect. “Goddam, Mister McGraw, what do we do now?”

But, before McGraw could answer, Saulter's rifle boomed and William suddenly screamed and went down, his legs cut out from under him as if by a giant hand. He was hit in the upper thigh, but the hole was such that it didn't matter that it wasn't in a vital spot.

Billy started toward him, but again the huge rifle boomed and more of the ceiling fell down. Billy ducked back and yelled for Schmidt to drag William to cover. The saloon keeper grumbled, but he reached out and got William by the collar and dragged him behind the rough bar.

Billy asked, “Now what?”

McGraw, looking worried said, “Crawl to the door. See if they can hear you in the barn.”

Up on the slopes, Saulter had changed his position again. He'd ridden around to where the hills broke for the little road that led into the town. Looking at the settlement, he could see the door of the barn open cautiously. Quickly he raised his rifle and fired. Splinters flew from the barn door and it was quickly shut.

Over in the women's house Letty and the others were in the front room looking out the windows. They instinctively flinched as Saulter's rifle boomed out. One of them asked Letty what they should do.

“Do?” Letty looked around at her in annoyance. “What the hell are you talking about? We sit and wait.” Under her breath she said lowly, “But you better damn well pray that Saulter wins.”

The inside of the saloon was beginning to disintegrate. There was debris all over the floor from the damaged roof and the blown out windows. Some of the bullets did not plow directly into the floor but instead hit it at such an angle that they glanced off and ricocheted wildly before finally embedding themselves in the plaster walls. Billy had turned over one of the heavy tables and pulled it over behind McGraw, him and the other gunman as protection against the ricochets. He called across the bar to Schmidt, “How's William? He holding on?”

Schmidt said from behind the bar. “He's gonna die pretty damn quick. His face is all white.”

“Can't you do something?” Billy called back. “Can't you put a tourniquet on his leg or something?”

Schmidt gave a shrug. “Wouldn't do no damn good. You ought to see all this blood on the floor. He ain't got none left to keep in him.”

Billy turned to McGraw. “This is getting out of hand. We got to do something. We stay pinned up in here and he's going to pick us off like a turkey shoot.”

The panic stronger in his voice, McGraw said, “We've got to get him quick. Before he can destroy our plans.”

“Plans?” Billy looked doubtful. “I just want out of here alive. Mister McGraw, they ain't but five of us left, counting you.”

McGraw looked at him, blinking rapidly. “Five? Five men is all?”

“Yessir. He's killed four. If William is dead.”

“This is not possible!” McGraw said. “It is not possible. I don't understand what has happened.”

 

At the head of the street Saulter had decided on a more direct course of action. He all of a sudden spurred his horse to a run and came cutting up the road. Just before he got to the saloon he slipped over the side of the saddle. He had his right leg hooked over the top of the horse's rump, while his left leg was wrapped around underneath the horse's neck. With his left arm he held the saddle horn and the end of his rifle. He had his rifle laid across the saddle in a firing position. He came dashing by the saloon. As he passed, he fired, hitting the door at the latch. The huge bullet burst the lock and blew the door half off its hinges.

Inside, the men jumped as the door came flying open.

“Mein Gott!”
Schmidt yelled.

McGraw said, “Get back there and signal for them to bring the horses. We've got to get out of here.”

Billy crawled rapidly to the back door. Yelling and firing his pistol he was able to attract the attention of one of the men who stuck his head cautiously out the barn door.

“Bring horses!” Billy yelled. “And come.”

“Now?” The man looked frightened.

“Yes,” Billy called back.

At that moment Saulter came dashing back the other way. Again his rifle boomed and a huge shell crashed into the door, this time completely carrying it away. It fell in a shower of splinters and Billy instinctively jumped sideways. Then he got up and sprinted back to the window.

“He's going to be in here in a minute.”

McGraw was beginning to look frightened. “A quarter of a million dollars,” he said. “A quarter of a million dollars! Money!”

“What quarter of a million dollars?”

McGraw turned savagely on him. “That's what this job is worth. And this gun tramp is ruining it. Goddammit, we've got to kill him quick.” He whirled, looking wildly around. “What is holding up those men? Billy, get to the back door and look for them.”

Billy crawled cautiously to the door. Another shot boomed out and the bottles behind the bar suddenly exploded.

“I am shot!” Schmidt screamed. He raised up, blood streaming down his face from cuts from the flying glass. He yelled at McGraw, “You get out! You hear? You get out right now!” McGraw whirled and snapped off another shot at him, but it too missed as he disappeared down behind the bar.

Billy called. “They about ready. They got the barn door open.”

Saulter had ridden on around the little circle of hills until his position was slightly behind the saloon. But he was still far enough toward the front that he could see the front of the barn. He saw the doors swing open and knew instinctively what was happening. “Not likely,” he said half aloud. He was reloading and he completed the work quickly and then took another shell from his satchel and stuck it in his mouth like a brass cigar, anticipating the need for fast work. Then he saw a figure at the back door of the saloon, signaling to the men in the barn. It would be an easy shot and he quickly raised his rifle. But over his sights something about the vague figure made him recognize Billy, and he slowly lowered his rifle. “All right. That makes us even,” he muttered to himself.

He switched his attention to the barn. He had his rifle up and was ready when the two gunmen hidden there suddenly came bursting out on horseback. They had two other horses in lead. It was only fifty yards to the saloon, but they had the horses at a dead run, riding low in the saddle and quirting and slashing at their mounts. Saulter took aim on the lead man and fired, the rifle pounding back into his shoulder with that heavy recoil few men could have withstood for long. The shot missed the man, but hit the horse, and animal and man went down in a tangle. The other rider swept on by, heading for the back of the saloon. Saulter reloaded quickly. In the pause the downed rider had made it to his feet and was sprinting for the door. Saulter got his sights on him and followed along, letting him get almost to the door before he fired. The shell caught the man squarely in the back and catapulted him through the opening. Its force was such that he skidded halfway across the floor. He came to rest only a few feet from McGraw.

McGraw stared aghast at the figure on the floor. Blood briefly pulsed a foot high out of the dead back and then subsided into a rapidly growing pool on the floor.

The other man had made it safely to shelter and he came racing through the door and threw himself down beside McGraw. “We're in a storm!” he cried.

Billy suddenly broke from the door and raced to the group under the window. “Two of the horses got away. You didn't tie them good.” He looked at the man who had survived the ride from the barn.

“You goddam right!” the man shouted at him. “Like to see you standin' there tyin' square knots with that fucking artillery blasting away at you!”

“Point is,” Billy said, “they ain't but two horses now. Two got away and Saulter shot one.” He ducked as another shot whistled through the roof. “But personally, somebody can have mine. I don't think we'd get a hundred yards before that man picked us off. I saw him get Runt at a dead run and he's got to be six hundred yards away.” He looked over at the dead man in the middle of the floor. “We're in real trouble, Mister McGraw.”

“I can see that!” McGraw snapped wildly. His cool air of aloof command had completely disintegrated now. His every word was high and frightened.

“Job's done for, anyway.”

“I'll decide that,” McGraw snapped shrilly.

“Just us four now,” Billy said. “Wonder if that man would accept a surrender. Unconditional.”

“Shut your mouth!”

McGraw raised his head to peer cautiously out over the window ledge, forgetting that the shots were now coming from the rear. Saulter reminded him of his position with a shot that tore the back door loose from its hinges. In a moment there was another shot and the door fell to the floor.

“McGraw,” Billy said urgently, for the first time neglecting to use the Mr., “we got to get out of here. He's going to shoot this damn place down! ”

Even as he spoke vagrant afternoon winds began to whip drift snow through both open doors and through the holes in the roof. It spread slowly across the floor in a thin layer. And the fire, which had been untended for some time, had died down so that the cold was entering steadily.

The gunman who'd brought the horses said, “I wisht it was dark. We could make a break then. How long ya figure?”

Billy said, “Two hours at least.”