CHAPTER 35
Gunfire rang out all around Mackey as he and Adair raced down Front Street.
None of the bullets struck him, and none of them sounded like they had even come close as he sped toward the jailhouse to rescue Jerry. But there was no doubt the Hancocks knew he was in town.
Mackey steered Adair to the right side of Front Street, toward the wagon where he knew the Hancock men were hiding. He saw two dead men slumped against the Municipal Building and knew three more were likely still in hiding.
One man rose from behind the wagon to shoot at him, but Mackey fired first and put him down. Adair bolted past the wagon as Mackey fired another shot down at another Hancock man, but he had no idea if he had hit him.
A shot rang out from the front door of the Municipal Building. Mackey saw one of Rigg’s men crouched behind the building’s heavy metal doors.
Mackey’s shot hit the door, but Billy’s shot from up in the rocks struck the man in the chest and sent him backward.
Well past the Municipal Building now, Mackey brought Adair around and heeled her back toward the jailhouse. He pulled his Winchester from the saddle scabbard as he dropped from the saddle and headed for the jail. Adair ran off down the alleyway toward the back of the jail.
The jailhouse door opened and Mackey dove inside as round after round began to slam into the boardwalk and walls all around him. He felt a fire in his left side as he hit the floor and heard the heavy door shut behind him.
“Hot damn, Aaron!” Jerry exclaimed. “I’m glad to see you.”
But Mackey was in no condition to enjoy the reunion. He patted his left front side and his hand came up bloody.
“I’m hit.”
Jerry dropped to a knee beside him and noticed the blood on the front of Mackey’s shirt. “You got lucky, amigo. It’s just a graze. That one could’ve ended you.”
“That’s a knife wound.” He took his hand away from his left side and showed him the blood. “This is a bullet wound.”
Jerry moved to take a closer look as the sound of bullets slamming against the jailhouse died off. “Looks like a ricochet took a small chunk out of you above your hip. It’s a nasty scratch, but it’s better than a hole in your belly. Got anything in this dump by way of medicine?”
Despite his condition, Mackey resented his jailhouse being called a dump. “This dump has kept us alive more times than I can count. And no, we don’t have any medicine. Doc Ridley always came by whenever we needed tending to.”
Jerry stood up and looked around. “Looks like I’ll have to make do with what we’ve got.”
With the initial shock of his wounds wearing off, they began to hurt like hell. “You sure this is just a flesh wound? That’s an awful lot of blood.”
“Of course, I’m sure,” Jerry said as he walked over to the stove. “To listen to you, you’d think you’ve never been shot before.”
“Because I haven’t.”
Jerry turned to look at him. “That so? After all the scrapes you’ve been in?”
“Sorry to disappoint you.” Mackey had not thought much about it until that moment. “Guess it’s only fitting that my last day in Dover Station is also the first time I’ve been shot.”
Jerry went back to the cells and came out tearing a sheet in half. “If you die, it won’t be from that paper cut on your side.” He grabbed the coffeepot from the stove and crouched beside the marshal.
Mackey shied away from the hot pot. “What are you doing?”
“You don’t keep whiskey in here and you don’t keep medicine,” Jerry said. “Best I can do for you is to pack that wound with coffee grinds to help ease the pain and soak up the blood.”
Mackey began to object, but remembered the Apache and Comanche often used poultices to mend gunshot wounds and cuts. “Those grinds must be boiling.”
“Ran out of firewood for the stove yesterday.” Jerry dumped out the damp coffee grinds into his hand and packed them on the wound. “But coffee’s still coffee, even when it’s cold.”
The grinds stung at first, but the pain quickly died away as Jerry folded one half of the torn bedsheet over and over to place on top of the grinds and used the other half to tie it around Mackey’s waist to hold it in place. “I’ve only got enough grinds to pack the wound in your side. That cut on your chest will have to wait.”
“At least I’ll smell good,” Mackey said. “Always did like the smell of coffee.”
Jerry inclined his head toward the door that continued to be peppered by bullets. “Hope you like the smell of gunpowder, because we’ve got plenty of that coming our way.”
Mackey held out his hand to Jerry. “Help me up.”
But Jerry pushed Mackey’s hand aside. “You’re not getting up until that bleeding lets up some. Give the grinds a chance to stop the blood. I’ve got enough to worry about around here without you passing out on me. A few minutes won’t make much of a difference. I’ve been holding them off for a day or so.”
Mackey had no intention of passing out or sitting down while Billy was outside fighting for his life. He tried to get up on his own power, but the lightning flash of pain that coursed through his body sent him flat.
Jerry eased him back against the wall. “I told you not to move. What’s your hurry?”
Mackey spoke through clenched teeth. “We need to distract the Hancocks while Billy gets clear of the rocks. He’s out there all by himself.”
“I thought I heard his Sharps banging out from the rocks,” Jerry said. “He’ll be fine, Aaron. This isn’t his first dustup.”
“But he’s up there all alone, damn it! We need to give him cover while he makes a break for it.” Mackey reached for his Winchester, but it was too far away. The effort left him winded as sweat broke out on his forehead. “Can’t let him get pinned down behind those rocks. They’ll be riding after him soon.”
Jerry eased him back against the wall again. “And you’re no good to him in the shape you’re in. You’re hurt. Give yourself time to heal. I’ll mind the door. They haven’t been able to get in here yet, and I’m not going to let them get in here now.”
That was when they heard the first thud hit the jailhouse door. And despite his growing delirium, Mackey knew that was not a bullet.
It was from something much bigger.
Fresh sweat broke out on his forehead when the second thud came. “The bastards are ramming the door.”