RACHEL WAS HUDDLED in a corner, her ugly face twisted up with grief. Tears coursed down her cheeks and she gnawed repeatedly at her lower lip. Her hair had come loose from the bun, and now hung lank and straight down her back. She still wore the blue dress, but the lace trimming the neck and cuffs was blackened, the starched whiteness ripped.
She looked up as the half-breed went past her. A bruise covered her right cheek, and her upper lip was split. She looked as though she had been slapped around.
‘You killed him.’ Her voice was dull. ‘You killed my father.’
‘I just told him the truth,’ rasped Azul. ‘Maybe he faced up to facts at last. The reality you were telling me about.’
‘Bastard!’ She said it in the same emotionless monotone, her eyes devoid of expression as she stared at him. ‘I did it for him. I’ve never stolen before.’
Azul paused, then said, ‘You took the silver, didn’t you?’
Rachel nodded. ‘The Indian cut your saddle loose. I was going to fetch it back when I saw the silver. I thought you were going to die, so I hid it on the wagon. I never told Pa because he’d have made me leave it. “Love of money is the root of all evil”. I thought I’d use it to buy us some decent living. God! do you know what it’s like to wander around with no place to call home? Living out of a wagon? Relying on charity from people like Braddock?’
Azul didn’t reply.
‘I’m twenty-five years old.’ She wiped a hand across her face, smudging tears in long streaks through the dirt. ‘I’ve never had a man. Never got the chance with my face, and the way we drifted around. Preaching the Gospel. That was all Pa wanted to do. I tried to talk him into going east. St Louis, maybe. Or Kansas City. All I wanted was a chance to live a bit. To see how real ladies dressed. Maybe even find a husband. I was going to give Pa half. Enough to build a church and make a real home.’
‘Where is it now?’ Somehow Azul could not feel angry. Instead, he felt weary; sorry for the girl. ‘What did you do with it?’
‘I asked Braddock about selling it,’ she muttered. ‘He talked me into a partnership. He needed money to buy more guns. He promised me five thousand dollars if his trade with the Sioux came off, so I gave the bars to him.’
Azul swung round, scanning the saloon. Braddock was swallowing whiskey at the bar. Levi was peering out through the firing slit at the front of the door. There were four other men crouched at the windows and rearward doors. He went over to the trader and slapped the glass from the little man’s hand.
‘You lied to me.’ His eyes were blue and cold. Shining with the threat of sudden death. ‘You took my silver and fooled me.’
‘Oh, Christ!’ Braddock stared at the fallen glass. It rattled as it bounced over the uneven planking of the floor. ‘You worried about that now? Now? When we’re all dead?’
‘One thousand dollars,’ rasped Azul. ‘Where is it?’
‘You want it that bad?’ The trader lifted the bottle, gulping from the neck. whiskey spilled over his shirt. ‘It’s in my cabin. Go get it! Take as much as you want. It won’t do you no good. We’re all gonna die.’
Azul turned away. He went over to the kitchen door and pushed the man guarding it aside.
‘You’re crazy.’ The man watched as the half-breed lifted the crossbar up from its mountings. ‘They’ll kill you.’
‘Debts need paying,’ grunted Azul. And ducked into the kitchen.
The room was empty, the windows shattered by gunfire. The stove was still warm, the remains of the stew blackening over the base of a skillet. Coffee burned on a pot. Outside, the store sheds were in flames and the Sioux were firing at two other cabins.
Azul ran down the covered walkway connecting the main building with Braddock’s shack.
He got inside without being spotted and went over to the glass-fronted cabinet. The doors were locked, so he smashed them in with the stock of his Winchester. The metal box was in its usual place. He lifted it out and set it on the table. Jammed the muzzle of his rifle against the lock, and squeezed the trigger. The box danced back, lid springing open as the bullet tore through the mechanism. Azul picked it up in his left hand and began to count notes. They came in tens and twenties: he thumbed one thousand dollars free and then folded the bills in a wad that he shoved into a vest pocket. The rest he left.
‘Set it back!’
Braddock appeared in the doorway. He held a Colt’s Peacemaker in his right hand, the hammer all the way back and his forefinger white on the trigger.
‘I didn’t build all this to let a goddam half-breed take it away.’
Azul turned to face the smaller man, angling the Winchester on the trader’s belly.
‘I’m taking what’s mine. No more.’
‘The hell you are!’ Braddock’s voice was a snarl. ‘I spent three years setting this thing up. I’d be a rich man now, if you hadn’t tangled with Zeb. The whole deal woulda gone through if you hadn’t fouled it. Ten thousand dollars.’
‘You promised half to the girl,’ rasped Azul. ‘You forgetting that?’
‘Her? That ugly bitch?’ Braddock laughed. ‘She wasn’t getting any. Never has, not with that godawful face. I wasn’t sharin’ with no-one. Not a face-ache preacher’s daughter nor a goddam half-breed.’
‘It was all for you?’ Azul watched the Colt, anticipating the moment when Braddock’s finger would tighten on the last fraction of play to trip the hammer. ‘You were double-crossing everyone?’
In the firelit shadow of the doorway, a figure moved.
‘Goddam right I was!’ Braddock laughed, whiskey lending him courage. ‘I got upwards of twenty thousand hid round here. I wasn’t lettin’ that go. None of it.’
The shadow moved closer, taking on form. Azul held the rifle pointed at the trader’s belly.
‘Drop the gun,’ said Braddock. ‘Drop it on the floor an’ then take the money out. Put it back in the box an’ slide it over to me.’
Azul set the rifle down, and began to peel the notes from his vest. The shadow moved silently across the floor, closing on Braddock.
The half-breed stooped to collect the box. The trader chuckled.
And the shadow launched itself forwards. Rachel’s hands, fingers outthrust to shape claws, landed over Braddock’s round eyes. The girl shrieked, digging her nails deep into the trader’s skin. They gouged bloody lines across his cheeks before imbedding in the watery sockets. Braddock screamed, triggering the Colt as his head was tugged back. The bullet flew wide as Azul powered sideways, crashing against the table so that it tumbled over and dropped the Winchester into his open hands. He went on rolling, fetching up against the wall as Braddock squeezed off wild shots around the room.
He was screaming all the time, struggling to break Rachel’s grip. The girl’s nails loosened for an instant, then sunk deep into the pulpy orbs of Braddock’s eyes. The colorless pupils clouded, then the blankness was replaced with red as the nails probed sharply into the sockets. Two great scarlet tears dribbled down the trader’s cheeks, and his screaming choked off into a throaty moaning that somehow held more pain than his earlier shrieking. Rachel ground her thumbs against his jawline, first and second fingers of both hands grinding against the edges of the sockets, Braddock’s eyeballs popped out, hanging bloodily over his face. Thin tendrils of nerves still linked them to his brain, then Rachel’s gouging fingers tore one loose and it fell down on to the carpet-covered floor. A huge swill of blood flowed from the empty hole and Braddock went down on his knees, tumbling the girl over his shoulder.
His face lifted in Azul’s direction. The mouth was wide open, but no sound came out now. Both eyes were enormous pools of crimson, weeping sticky tears over the cheeks. Braddock’s discolored teeth got darker still with blood and his hands reached out. For the money, or in request of an end to his agony, the half-breed could not tell.
He triggered the Winchester. The .44-40 slug took Braddock dead center of the chest. It smashed through the sternum, deflecting off into the left lung. Braddock pitched back, blood pumping from his spread lips. The empty Colt dropped from his hand and he balanced for a moment on his knees, red sockets glaring sightlessly across the room. The lines of crimson flooding from his destroyed eyes mingled with the blood pouring from his mouth. It dripped from his jaw, spilling on to his dirty shirt so that the material got dark and sticky.
Azul fired again. The bullet landed below and to the left of the first. It went in through the ribs and smashed a hole through Braddock’s heart, exiting from beneath the left shoulder blade. Braddock jerked backwards, the force of the bullet spreading his corpse full length over the carpets as his legs straightened and drummed a brief death dance against the floorboards. For a while, his lungs and heart went on pumping blood from his chest in two spraying fountains. The carpet under him got stained with the widening pool gusting from the exit wounds.
Azul levered the Winchester and reached for the money box.
Rachel got up on her feet and glared at him. Her hands were thrust out in front, the fingers still hooked into talons. Blood and smears of eye mucus dripped from the nails.
‘That’s mine,’ she snarled, lips drawing back from feral teeth. ‘Mine!’
Azul retrieved his two thousand dollars. Shoved them back into his vest.
‘Take it.’
The girl went down on her knees, blood-stained fingers clawing at the notes.
She began to scoop them clear of the money box, the blood covering her fingers staining the faces of the men whose portraits decorated the bills. She cupped a wad in her left hand, adding to it as she peeled fresh notes from the stack.
‘Nine thousand … Ten thousand … Five hundred … Twelve thousand … I’ll build you a church, Pa. Right here. It’ll have a steeple and a bell. We’ll hold service on Sundays. Everyone’ll come. After I’ve been to St Louis. I’ll get me some good dresses. A husband, too. Now I’ve got the money, I can find me a husband, then I’ll build the church.’
She stood up, clutching the notes against her breasts.
And a Sioux appeared at the rear window. His arrow shattered the glass, spilling it out from the arrowhead in a silvery fountain of fire-lit shards. The arrow was stone-tipped, the flint point chipped to a diamond shape, with vee-angled edges at the rear. It thudded into Rachel’s back low down on the right side. The head emerged bloodily from under her breast. She screamed, hands flying open as she staggered forwards, so that the dollar bills she was clutching lifted into the air and fluttered down over Braddock’s face.
Azul fired, planting a shot directly between the Sioux’s eyes. The face collapsed inwards, a massive hole appearing where the nose had been, dragging the eyes and upper lip into the gap.
A second arrow imbedded in the ceiling.
Rachel was still on her feet. Her hands were clutched around the arrow protruding from her ribs, and she was trying to drag it loose. She shook her head, scattering limp folds of greasy blonde hair about her face.
‘I’ll build the church, Pa. I promise. I’ll build it! I only did it for that. God! Please! It was all for you.’
She fell down on her back, laughing as she dragged the arrow clear through her body. She held it up in both hands, staring at the blood-darkened shaft.
‘Blood of the Lamb. Yes! Baptize them. They don’t understand, but I’ll make them. After St Louis. I promise.’
Her voice died away and she smiled. Blood came out from her mouth, running down her face to spread thick droplets into her hair.
Then her mouth snapped shut and her eyes glazed over. Her fingers opened, loosing the arrow. It fell between her legs, the stained point hidden under her petticoats.
Azul left her dead on the floor, moving back towards the saloon. As he quit Braddock’s shack five fire arrows shafted in through the windows. The carpets and the bodies began to burn. The money took light, too.
The front of the saloon was burning. Two of the defenders were slumped against the wall, moaning as they clutched chest and shoulder wounds. Levi was backed against the right-side window, angling his Colt through the slot.
As Azul moved up to join him a bullet entered through the narrow slit. It hit the barkeep in the left eye, tearing out through the rear of his skull. Levi was hurled backwards, blood and brain matter spraying in a thick swathe from his head. His pistol fell from his hand and his body crashed against the dirty boards.
The kitchen and the front of the saloon collapsed at the same time.
The stove exploded as the Sioux tossed kerosene and cartridges into the grate. It went off in a massive roar of fire that blasted fragments of metal against the inner door, setting light to the wood so that the defenders were driven back as the timber took flame. At the same time the front collapsed under the heat.
Door and windows and porch fell inwards, filling the room with sparks and roiling smoke.
Azul saw the flash of carbine fire through the acrid clouds. Saw, too, the pale glow of the moon. And realized that night had fallen even as he realized that he was the last man left alive.
The two other men went down as the Sioux pumped fire through the burned-out walls.
He ducked behind the bar, bellying down against the boards as the yelling Indians poured in through the flames.
Life and death aren’t really that much different, his father had once told him. If you don’t live good, then the chances are you’ll die bad. What’s important is holding on to what you believe. Stick to that, and you’ll be at peace with yoreself If you can’t handle that, then you can’t handle yore own life.
Azul prepared to handle his own death.
Then Long Lance came into the burning room and shouted over the crackling of the timber and his warriors’ yelling.
The gunfire died away. And the chief stared at the half-breed.
‘Stand up,’ he said. ‘There is nowhere you can go unless I give the word.’
Azul climbed to his feet.
‘Put your rifle on the bar.’
He settled the Winchester on the planks.
‘They are all dead,’ said Long Lance. ‘We have killed all the others, and only you are left.’
Azul set his hands on the counter of the bar. They were in full sight, but close enough to his gunbelt that he could draw the Colt’s Frontier and shoot the Sioux chief if Long Lance sought to end the fight with a final death.
‘What will you do with me?’ asked the half-breed.
Long Lance shrugged. ‘I think I will let you go. So that you can tell people how the Sioux still fight for their land. Tell them how they will suffer if they lie to us.’ ‘I never lied to you,’ said Azul. ‘What I did was done in truth.’
‘I believe you,’ said the Sioux chief. ‘But you are more Indian than white. The viejo do not understand the truth. Nor do they understand that we will go on fighting until we die. Or they kill us and take our land. There is nothing else.’
‘No,’ said Azul. ‘There is only the good dying.’
‘Go away,’ said Long Lance. ‘Go back to your Apache country and fight your own enemies.’
‘If I know who they are,’ said the half-breed. ‘But where will you go?’
‘North into the Canada land,’ said Long Lance. ‘Or stay here to fight for what is ours.’
‘I wish you luck.’
Azul picked up his Winchester and ducked through the burning front of the saloon. No Indians stopped him, and he went over to the stable and led the gray stallion out into the smoke filled air. There was a sour taste in his mouth as he stuffed the money into his saddlebags.
He got up on the big horse and rode out through the open gates.
Braddock’s trading post burned behind him. The Sioux were looting the store sheds and driving off the animals. Long columns of smoke roiled upwards across the night sky, dark streamers shading over the face of the waning moon. There was the sweetish stench of roasting flesh.
Azul forded the river and turned the stallion south. He glanced back, watching the pall of smoke whirl and clear for a moment as a night breeze disturbed its oily passage. The moon shone down like the face of conscience, its light pale and yellow and lonely. Then it got hidden again.
Azul turned away, heeling the gray horse to a steady canter.