Get Out of Town

Billy pushed Sandborne to the floor when the first bullets hit the jailhouse door.

“Think that’s the Hancock boys?” the young deputy asked.

“It ain’t pixies.” Billy darted over to the desk, grabbed the Greener he had placed against the wall, and tossed it to Sandborne, who caught it one-handed.

“I want you back with the cells and to lock that door. If you hear anyone in here that’s not me or Aaron, empty one barrel into Brenner and the other one into whoever comes in.”

Both men flinched as more rounds struck the door.

“Think that door will hold?” Sandborne asked.

“It’ll hold until it won’t,” Billy told him. “Now get in there and stay ready.”

Sandborne pulled the door closed and locked it from the inside. The front door was the only way into the jailhouse, so at least he didn’t have to worry about anyone sneaking in the back.

But while he knew the door and walls should hold, Billy had been a cavalryman long enough to know any building could be breached, and the old jailhouse was no exception. He had no idea how many Hancock boys were in town, but he put the number at more than thirty by now. If they wanted in, they’d get in, especially if no one was shooting back.

He intended to change that right now.

Billy went to the rifle rack and pulled down his Sharps. He didn’t have to rack a load into the chamber. He had already done that before he had put it away last time.

He took a position to the left of the doorway as the Hancock boys opened fire once again. Most of the rounds hit the door, which rattled with each impact. He closed his eyes and listened, knowing they must be directly across the street on account of the cluster of shots. They weren’t shooting at the lock from an angle. They were shooting straight on and missing.

“Come on, Jerry,” he said aloud. “Where the hell are you?”

The barrage stopped, and a solitary rifle shot sang out across Front Street. That had to be Jerry Halstead, who had been watching the jailhouse just like Mackey had told him to do before going to fetch Grant.

They had probably been firing at the jailhouse from the street and the alley without worrying about cover. Now they were exposed to Jerry’s rifle, and the boy was cutting into them from the cover of the livery next door.

Time to join the fun.

Billy threw open the door and brought the Sharps to his shoulder. He saw ten gunmen were clustered at the corner of the alley of the Municipal Building, hiding from Jerry Halstead’s rifle. One man was face-down on the boardwalk, while another was slumped against the building with a bullet through his head.

Billy aimed into the center of the group and fired. The big buffalo gun boomed, sending the fifty-caliber round into the middle of the men clustered at the mouth of the alley. He saw three of them spin as the bullet tore through them.

He shut the door and set the big gun aside as the group began firing his way once more. The single-shot Sharps took too long to reload in a firefight this close, so he brought the rifle back to the rack, selected his Winchester, and went back to the door.

Fewer rounds struck the jailhouse, and the gunfire from outside died down considerably, probably thanks to Jerry’s skills with a rifle.

Billy threw open the door again and brought the Winchester to his shoulder. He counted five men dead at the mouth of the alley and only three remaining. Billy aimed at a man in front and fired. The shot was rushed and struck the brickwork next to him, sending chunks of brick and dust into the man’s eyes. He dropped his rifle as he pawed at his face to clear his vision.

The man behind him aimed a pistol at Billy. The blinded man stumbled back and threw off the man’s aim. The bullet went high and buried itself in the ceiling of the jailhouse. Billy’s next shot put the man down.

Billy levered another round into the chamber as the second Hancock man decided to risk all and charge the jailhouse, screaming and emptying his pistol as he ran.

Billy and Halstead fired at the same target at the same time. Both shots hit him in the chest before he toppled over into the mud.

The blinded man bounced from one side of the alley to the other, feeling wildly for something familiar to hold on to.

Billy normally would have felt some sympathy for the man. But that was a Hancock man. Pity didn’t enter into it. That family had been trying to kill him and Aaron for weeks. He didn’t know if this was the last Hancock in town, but he was the last one in the fight.

And the fight wasn’t over for him until all of them were dead.

Billy stood and brought the Winchester to his shoulder. He drew a bead on the stumbling man and chambered another round into the rifle.

He lowered the rifle and saw Jerry Halstead in the middle of Front Street. At that moment, with the sunshine hitting him just right, he was the image of Sim Halstead, his father.

That single word brought Billy back to his senses. That single word reminded him of who he was.

Billy Sunday, Deputy U.S. Marshal of the Montana Territory. He was a lawman, not a murderer.

Billy eased down the hammer of the Winchester. “Best grab him before he stumbles into a ditch or something. We’ll lock him up in here.”

Young Halstead sprinted after the last surviving Hancock man on foot. He envied the boy’s speed.

He envied his wisdom.

Billy shut the door, took a box of cartridges from the rack, and began reloading the Winchester.

He stood just to the side of the door leading to the cells. “Best uncock that coach gun, Joshua. Looks like we’re still alive.”

Even through the closed door, he could hear the boy lower the hammers. “Is it over?”

Billy thought of Aaron and how he’d gone to arrest Mayor Grant. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out once Jerry gets back.”