CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The rifle bullet that zipped past Shawn O’Brien’s head missed by less than half an inch, splintered into the doorjamb and drove spikes of weathered pine into Ford Platt’s face.
As Platt yelped and took a step back, blood running down his cheek, Shawn spotted a man on the pillared whores’ gallery of the abandoned saloon across the street.
It was the bearded man called Adam and a second rifleman stood next to him.
Shawn threw himself to his right and drew before he hit the boardwalk, bullets hitting close.
He was aware of the roar of Platt’s scattergun. The buckshot must have hit close, because both men suddenly lost interest in a gunfight and scampered for the door that opened onto the gallery.
An apt student of his tutor, stern old Luther Ironside, Shawn was not a merciful man by training or inclination.
He snapped off two fast shots at the fleeing men and scored hits.
Blood staining the left side of his gray coat, Adam turned and tried to bring up his rifle. But the gallery was narrow and he overstepped and toppled headlong into the muddy street.
The second rifleman was down, and in his last agony, he slowly dragged the fingernails of his extended right hand down the harsh timber of the saloon wall, leaving behind four deep gouges.
Shawn got to his feet, his anger such a palpable thing that his snarl of rage made him look like a man-eating cougar.
It seemed that the whole town had turned out to watch him die.
Men, women and children stood in the tumbling rain, staring at him with expressionless, wooden faces, like painted dime-store dolls.
The florid-faced man was holding a Winchester. He looked at Shawn’s expression, then at the rifle and quickly threw it down, as though it was suddenly red hot.
A silence stretched tight, the only sound the tick of the falling rain.
A woman stepped forward and stretched her hands out to Shawn in supplication, her face drawn with anguish.
“Lead us,” she said. “Save us and save our town.”
“Save yourselves, find your own redemption,” Shawn said.
He was no longer in a mood to ask. Now he ordered.
“Get the undertaker back here to take care of your hurting dead,” he said. “Then pull down the monstrosities from the front of the church. Holy Rood will never again have gallows.”
The crowd didn’t move. Just stared at him, bewildered, and Shawn’s voice rose to a shout.
“Do it! Damn you, do it!”
This time the townspeople moved, the adult men toward the church, the women following, gathering their children close to their muddy skirts.
Shawn didn’t wait to see if his orders were being carried out. He stepped back inside the sheriff’s office. Platt moved aside for him.
After Shawn poured himself more coffee and lit a cigarette, Platt said, “I don’t need to be a prophet to tell you that this town is finished.”
“Seems like. Unless miracles happen.”
Shawn lifted pained eyes to Platt.
“I thought I could redeem this town. All I did was destroy it.”
“Some towns, some people, can’t be redeemed,” Platt said. “That’s the way of it, the way of the world, I guess.”
“Why this town, these people? Was it all down to Hank Cobb?”
“People get the government they deserve. It seems to me that Holy Rood deserved Hank Cobb.”
“I don’t understand that,” Shawn said.
Platt smiled. “Hell, I don’t either.”
Restless, Shawn stepped to the window. There was no one on the street but a few of the stores were lit against the gloom of the day and the fine gray mist was creeping in from the brush flats. The sky remained a dull, iron gray with no promise of sun.
The door opened and Sedley stepped inside.
“Where is Sally?” Shawn said.
“She’s over to the hotel. She’s not doing so good, O’Brien. Ruby’s death really affected her.”
“Affected us all,” Platt said.
“Hamp, Ford and I are going after Cobb,” Shawn said. “Can you take care of Sally, see that she gets to wherever she’s going?”
“Sure, I will,” Sedley said. “I reckon the Wells Fargo stages will stop here again now that Cobb’s gone.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Platt said. “Seems the folks he left behind are already missing him.”
“And plan to walk in his footsteps, huh?” Sedley said.
“That’s about the size of it,” Platt said. “They’ll follow the path of their venerated leader. Ready to puke yet?”
“I was standing outside the hotel when they tried to kill you, O’Brien,” Sedley said. “Before I could move to help, it was over.”
“Shawn’s mighty sudden,” Platt said. “Blink and you miss it.”
“They didn’t give me much choice,” Shawn said.
His shoulders slumped. “What the hell, let’s get away from this place,” he said. “I’ve lingered here long enough.”
“Suits me,” Platt said.
“Ford, see if you can get us some supplies for the trail,” Shawn said. “Enough for a couple of days.” He turned to Sedley. “Hamp, on second thoughts, I think you and Sally had better come with us. You can drive the wagon.”
“I don’t want to stay in this town any longer either,” Sedley said. “And neither does Sally.” His face framed a question. “Why the wagon?”
“We’re not leaving Ruby behind,” Shawn said.
“Of course,” Sedley said. “Sorry I was so dim. Sure, I’ll drive the wagon. Be honored to.”
“We’re heading for Silver Reef, going after Hank Cobb,” Platt said. “When we get there, Hamp, if there’s shooting to be done, leave it to us.”
“We’ll see,” Sedley said. “I just need six feet of ground between him and me to get my work in.”
“Even you can’t miss at that range.” Platt smiled.
“Yes, he can,” Shawn said.
“Kiss my ass,” Sedley said.
That made Shawn laugh and it felt good.