‘I want that son of bitch bounty man,’ Thad Monk said.
‘Damn you, Thad,’ Nathanial Monk said. ‘You walk out there that man will put you down like the mad dog you are.’
‘I ain’t afeared of him. You think I got a yellow streak down my back?’
‘Seems I have to wonder about that. I never raised no son to shoot a woman in the back. Can’t pretend that didn’t happen, boy.’
‘I brung you money from that bank.’ Thad scowled. ‘Shootin’ that woman was an accident…’
‘So you say but it’s brought trouble to our door and family have died with that bounty man showing up. We was doin’ fine enough diggin’ out that gold.’
‘Ain’t right that Bodie sonofabitch trailin’ me. I aim to make him pay for that.’
‘Lord help me, boy, I got sons back home all shot up because you brought trouble on us.’
Thad jerked his handgun from the holster, muttering to himself as he thumbed in fresh loads. He had a second revolver pushed behind his belt and fresh loaded that.
‘Now step out of my way, old man, I got killing to do. Rightly don’t know why I waste my time listening to you. You figure I’m scared? Damn your eyes, I’ll let you see me kill me a bounty man, and then we can settle this.’
Thad glanced at the two surviving Monks flanking his father.
‘You want to do something? Go see who shot Turk down. I got better things to do.’
He stepped up and kicked the barn door open.
‘Got the guts, bounty man? Tired of you doggin’ me all over creation. Face to face, you bastard.’
He burst out through the swinging open barn door, a gun in each hand, hammers back and muzzles rising…
~*~
…the exchange had taken seconds, giving Brand the time to move along the barn floor, catching the action at the far end as Thad Monk pushed open the doors and stepped through.
He saw the shadowed pair of figures move away from the barn door, coming in his direction and he raised the Winchester.
A gunshot blasted. Flame and smoke.
Brand stepped forward, dropping to a low crouch, reducing his bulk. A second shot sounded. He felt the slug kick up dirt inches away. He tripped the rifle’s trigger, levered and fired again. Kept firing until the rifle clicked on empty.
One of the advancing figures lurched sideways, a low cry forming in his throat as he caught a pair of 44-40 lead slugs. The second man ran forward, punching out shots that went wide. He darted to the side, flattening against the barn wall.
Brand dropped the empty rifle, snatched the Colt from his holster and extended his arm, snapping back the hammer. Took a breath and forced himself to remain still as he settled his aim on the fast shooting man. He felt a keen burn as a slug razored his right cheek. Felt hot blood stream down his face. Clenched his jaw and sighted along the Colt. Eased back on the trigger. The Colt bucked, a lance of flame issuing from the muzzle. The heavy slug hit the poised figure and knocked him back, his weapon suddenly off line. Brand rose to his full height, Colt steady in his hand as he fired again, and again, the slugs slamming into the jerking figure. Through soft flesh, impacting against rib bones and shattering them. The man hung against the barn wall, mouth open long enough for a drawn out sigh of expended air to escape, then slumped down and lay still…
~*~
…Bodie saw the stocky figure move out from the barn, a revolver in each hand.
Thad Monk.
The man he had climbed the mountain after.
‘I’m taking you in, Monk,’ Bodie said. ‘And they’re going to hang you.’
‘Like hell,’ Thad yelled. ‘Ain’t no back shooting bounty man besting me.’
‘You got that wrong. Back shooting’s your style…not mine.’
Bodie saw the muzzles of Thad’s pistols start to rise as he screamed a mouthful of obscenities. They were cut off when Bodie’s rifle fired, sending a volley of shots that cut Thad’s legs from under him. Bloody gouts erupted from Thad’s limbs as he crashed to the street. His pistols thundered and sent slugs into the ground. Thad twisted in agony, letting go of his guns and clutching at his shattered legs.
The powerful figure of Nathanial Monk burst from the barn, his pistol firing as he showed himself, anger distorting his face.
The second shot he fired burned a line across Bodie’s right side.
His hammer was going back for a third shot.
The Greener in Harry Conway’s hands boomed. The searing blast of shot caught Monk in the high chest, tearing a bloody hole. The impact threw him backwards. He hit the barn door, rebounding and falling face down in the dirt. He rolled onto his back and lay staring up into the dawn sky, one side of his face a mask of sprayed blood.
And as quickly as it had started the gunfight was over.
Brand walked out of the barn. He glanced at the bodies on the ground. Put away his gun and crossed to where Bodie stood, noticing the spreading blood patch on the man’s shirt.
‘That hurt?’
Bodie inclined his head as he stared at the wound.
‘Like hell,’ he said. He glanced around at the hesitant figures of Wishbone townsfolk emerging from doorways. ‘You think the rest of the day will turn out quieter?’
‘Don’t want to appear inhospitable,’ Conway said, ‘but I hope you two don’t make a habit of visiting Wishbone too often.’
Brand touched his fingers to the bullet burn on his cheek.
‘Amen to that,’ he said.
Over Conway’s shoulder he saw Adam walking down the street in their direction. He moved out to intercept his son.
‘You’re hurt,’ Adam said, staring at the blood on Brand’s face and shirt.
‘Looks worse than it is.’
‘Is this what happens every time you ride out?’
‘Comes with the job, Adam. It’s what I do.’
‘You ever figure that’s the problem?’
Brand couldn’t argue with that.
‘How’s Rankin?’
‘Doc says he’ll pull through. He’s stitching up the wound right now. Says it’s going to take some time for Hec to recover. Joanne’ saying she’s going to stay in town with him.’
‘That figures. I think that young woman has taken a shine to Rankin.’
‘At least one good thing came out of this then.’
Brand managed a weary smile. ‘More’n one I’d say.’
‘Doc in this town is going to be making a profit,’ Bodie said as he walked by.
‘Adam, go see the telegraph man. Find out when he’ll have the line repaired.
‘All right, pa.’
As Adam made his way along the street Conway said, ‘That look on your face tells me you ain’t got used to him calling you that yet.’
‘I might never get used to it,’ Brand said, but if he was truthful it was already starting to become familiar.