Doc Hight had watched Sheriff Parris like a hawk from the moment he heard the three warning shots echo flatly across the town. The old man had given him no trouble, but had remained where Doc had told him to stay, flat against the far wall of the shack, his hands behind his neck.
In the suspenseful moments following Helm’s arrival in town, which Hight could not see, Parris played on the medico’s taut nerves with telling comments.
‘Yore sidekicks will run out on yu, Doc,’ he cackled, evilly. ‘Yo’re goin’ to look mighty sick when Sim Cotton’s boys get yu.’
‘Keep your mouth shut,’ rapped Hight. ‘I might just take Green’s advice and tap you one with this.’ He gestured with the gun barrel. The Sheriff was unabashed by this threat, however.
‘Yu lay into me, an’ yu’ll get twice yore value when Sim’s done with yu, boy,’ he jibed. ‘Yu better turn me loose while yu got a chance.’
‘I’ll put a bullet in your fat belly if you don’t keep still,’ growled Hight, now uncertain as the continuing stillness outside remained unbroken. Where was Green? What was happening? He edged over towards the window, peered out, looking up the street. He saw Green walking slowly north towards something or someone he couldn’t see. He pushed his face harder against the glass, trying to bring the far end of the street within his range of vision. In this moment, his attention was completely diverted from the old sheriff, who, with an agility surprising in a man so large, took three fast steps across the room and crashed a clenched fist to the base of the medico’s neck. Hight dropped, stunned, to his knees as the sheriff wrenched the pistol from his nerveless fingers. The gun rose high and fell, stretching Hight unconscious on the floor.
Without further thought, Parris rushed across the room and pulled open the door which led directly on to the street, yelling at the top of his voice: ‘On the saloon roof, boys! Watch out on the––’ and that was all he ever said for in the precise moment that he wrenched open his front door and dashed out into the street, the three Cottonwood riders who had circled the town came out at full gallop from behind the jail, guns drawn, bearing down on the lone figure of Sudden in the street.
Felipe, the half-breed screamed aloud as his horse ran straight into the sheriff. In another second the three riders were fighting their panic-stricken horses, trying desperately to stay in the saddle, as the guns started to boom.
Helm’s hands had flashed for his guns in the moment he heard the door bang, sure that the sound of his comrades approaching would momentarily distract the calm, saturnine figure before him. Helm was very, very fast. He had moved before Sudden even started for his guns, and Helm had his fingers crooked on the triggers when twin spurts of flame belched from Sudden’s hips, hurling Helm backwards and over, the gunman’s guns exploding as the reflex action made him jerk the triggers. Helm died happy thinking he had killed Sudden, while Sudden, moving even as the shots he had fired whisked Helm over, was rolling sideways and turning, his twin revolvers blasting shots into the twisting, churning mass that was the three riders in the street. One horse was down hurt, and the others were still rearing, screeching as the bullets whined about them and the roll of gunfire multiplied the panic caused by the moving thing that had tangled itself in their legs. The half-breed, Felipe, lay cursing, one leg twisted at an unnatural angle, sidling towards the revolver which lay in the dust, Blass and Davis stood up on the saloon roof, pouring rifle fire into the struggling group in the street. The dust rose high and figures became obscure. Still the two men on the roof kept firing, and went on shooting until their weapons were empty.
The silence when the firing ceased was shattering. Green edged along the saloon porch, guns cocked and ready, as the dust sifted down in the street and figures became distinct again. One horse was dead, its body half covering the tattered, smashed thing that had once been the sheriff. The other horses had skittered off down the street until their dragging reins had halted them; they stood now, nervously snorting and pawing the dust, just beyond the jail. The three Cottonwood riders were dead. None of them had fired a shot.
Green was standing in the middle of the street looking down at the carnage when the bartender and the storekeeper joined him.
‘My Gawd!’ gasped Blass in an awed voice. ‘Did we do that?’
‘I just kept shootin’,’ Davis said, ‘I couldn’t see nothin’, but I kept shootin’.’
‘It’s over now,’ Sudden told them. He felt a great weariness for a moment. ‘Go an’ see what happened to Doc Hight. He may be hurt.’
The two men hurried off towards the Sheriff’s cabin. Looking up Green saw Billy Hornby running down the street, as men emerged from doorways, their actions curiously hesitant.
‘Jim!’ Billy called. ‘I stayed up at the north end, in case they come runnin’ back that way. I didn’t know they’d split up. Is anyone hurt?’
‘On’y them,’ the puncher told him. ‘We come out without a scratch.’
‘I see yu got Helm,’ Billy enthused. ‘Good for yu.’
‘He had it comin’,’ Green said flatly. ‘But I ain’t proud of it. I ain’t proud of any o’ this. If Harry Parris’ hadn’t taken it into his head to try an’ let Helm know somethin’ Helm knew already, it’d be us lyin’ there.’
He looked around as the two men came out of Parris’ house with Doc Hight. The medico was rubbing his head; his face was a picture of chagrin.
‘Jim,’ he began. ‘I’m shore sorry…’
‘Forget it,’ Sudden retorted. ‘In a way, yu helped. Those three woulda given me a bad moment if it hadn’t ’a’ been for Parris.’
He glanced over towards the Oasis. ‘I reckon I could use a drink,’ he announced, and without another word strode purposefully across the street, while his four allies watched him with amazed expressions.
Billy Hornby broke the silence. ‘Chris Helm in front o’ him an’ three paid guns ridin’ him down from behind, an’ he allows they might’ve given him a bad moment.’ He shook his head. ‘Gents, I aim to take a drink with a man — the first real man to hit this town in a long time.’
He followed Green towards the saloon. After a moment, Hight looked at the other two.
‘Damned if he ain’t right,’ he told them.