They were gaining on them and Cole chanced a shot.
He knew he had little chance of hitting them but he was hoping to slow them down, send them scrambling for cover. Even a split second gained meant all the difference but the shot went far wide and the men continued to come without the slightest pause.
Cole tried to coax more speed out of his horse and he looked across at Em on the old roan. He was keeping up thus far but the horse would soon run out of steam and he wouldn’t be able to ride on without the old man. There was no other thing for it, there was no longer any choice in the matter. They would have to stop and make a fight of it and Cole cursed his decision to leave the mountains. Maybe he should have stayed put and picked the men off as they approached. It was academic now since very soon the man would be upon them.
Then it would become a very simple case of fight or die.
‘Not too far ahead,’ Cole shouted. ‘There’s some cover. We’ll stand and fight there.’
Em waved a hand to say he understood and went about the difficult task of keeping himself upon his galloping horse. The wind hit his face and lifted his hat from his head, sending it spinning off into the air behind them.
They rounded a corner and Cole’s horse almost stumbled but managed to regain its balance without toppling itself or its rider. Again Cole let off a wild shot behind him. The riders were now in range and gaining on them, slowing them down for even a split second mattered more than ever. They needed to get enough time to get under cover before fighting the riders.
‘Come on,’ Cole yelled and spurred his horse harder than he ever had before which did little to gain more speed. ‘The next Corner,’ he yelled. ‘Get down behind whatever cover you can find.’
‘Sure,’ Em said and felt his stomach lurch as the roan somehow picked up more speed and nosed in front of Cole’s far superior stallion.
‘That damn horse’s possessed,’ Cole said but he wasn’t sure if the old man had heard him.
Suddenly Cole pulled his horse to a sudden stop and turned firing both Colts, while the old man dismounted and placed himself behind a large rock. That slowed the two riders and Cole used the opportunity to get behind a rock himself and reload his weapons. He looked to his left and saw Em was already up, firing his rifle at the men causing them to dive for cover themselves.
Em whooped in delight. ‘Come on you varmints,’ he yelled. ‘Pop those heads up and I’ll fire them clean off.’
‘Wait till you’ve got a clear target to shoot,’ Cole said he peered out from behind the rock but had to immediately duck back down when a bullet struck the rock barely inches from his face. He saw sparks and heard it whine off harmlessly into the undergrowth.
That had been too close for comfort.
Suddenly both men stood up at once and fired their rifles. Neither Cole nor Em realized what was happening, as the shots seemed to travel wide of both of them. They kept their heads down while the furious onslaught of lead continued. The two men seemed to be wasting their ammunition and hoping for a lucky hit but when Cole turned he saw that the men had indeed hit what they had been aiming for. The cold, calculating bastards.
Cole’s horse had taken a bullet in the neck and it was jumping about wildly, pulling at its reins while blood turned its thick coat a sickly black. Em’s horse was down on the ground, dead, having taken a remarkably aimed shot right between the eyes. It would have died instantly and not known what had hit it. The other horse wasn’t so fortunate and it kicked and bucked in pain.
‘Bastards,’ Em shouted and stood up, sending lead every which way. ‘You killed my horse, you bastards.’
Cole had to break cover and dive onto the old man pinning him to the ground. He lay there and watched his own horse weaken from the blood loss and slump down on its front legs. It was a pitiful sight and the horse’s eyes seemed to be imploring its owner to help as its life force drained from it. Cole would have shot it, finished it off but he couldn’t afford the ammunition. Not the way things were going.
‘They killed my horse,’ Em protested. ‘What did they want to go and do that for?’
They both knew why they had taken the horses out though. They had cut them off, there was no escape, and the men seemed confident that they would prove victorious in this fight. At the moment it was stalemate—neither side could make a move without the other gunning them down. The two men may have all the time in the world, be able to wait this out but Cole didn’t.
Now there was no doubt, if indeed there ever had been, that these men were professional killers. They operated with the cold efficiency of men used to killing, men who had much experience with guns and felt no emotion whether gunning down man or animal.
‘Keep your head,’ Cole said. ‘These men will make the best of any chance they get.’
‘Bastards,’ Em said looking back at the fallen roan. He wiped the back of his hand across his face and seemed close to breaking down. ‘I’ll get them, girl,’ he said to the fallen horse. ‘Don’t you worry any about that.’
Cole shook his head and turned to peer out from the side of the rock but both men were laying there, rifles sighted in their direction, patiently waiting for a clear shot. They were not about to make any reckless moves and seemed content to wait them out.
They weren’t going to waste any ammunition.
‘Who are you?’ Cole shouted, thinking that building up a dialogue was the best chance he had until an opportunity to put a slug into either of the men presented itself.
Cole’s words were greeted with silence, though and he shouted again: ‘What do you want?’
Again nothing but silence.
‘Answer him you cowardly horse killers,’ Em shouted.
Again silence but then one of the men spoke up.
‘We want you, Masters.’
‘Do I know you?’ Cole shouted back and shrugged his shoulders. He considered jumping up, trying to take them by surprise but decided against it. These men were expert shots. There were times when suddenly rushing an opponent was a good strategy but this was not one of those times.
‘We want Cole Masters for the brutal murder of the sheriff of Squaw.’ It was the same voice, a cold guttural drawl.
‘Who are you?’ Cole shouted, frantically trying to think of something, anything that would help their situation. He noticed that his own horse now lay still on the ground, not quite dead, it’s breathing was ragged, but not too far off. Before long it would be out of its pain forever.
‘You working for Clem Bowden?’ Cole shouted back as his eyes scanned their surroundings. There was little cover each side of them and to move they had to go out in to the open, which was not really an option.
‘We’ve been deputized by the sheriff,’ came the reply. Again it was the same voice while the other man remained silent.
‘Sam Bowden,’ Cole yelled. ‘Is a worthless piece of horse shit.’
‘That’s as maybe,’ came the reply. ‘But he wears the badge of office. Makes him the sheriff no matter what kind of man he is.’
‘Who are you?’ Cole yelled back. He tried to peer around the rock to see if he had a clear shot but both men were hidden behind the bank. Only the muzzles of their rifles were visible.
‘Name’s don’t matter.’
‘To Hell they don’t,’ Cole said and jumped up and let off three shots before ducking back behind the rock and crouching while a hail of gunfire sent sparks from the rock.
Cole had been hoping for a lucky shot, to catch one of them before they could react, but it was no surprise when it didn’t work. It had been the slimmest of slim chances in any case so the outcome was no surprise to either of them. He supposed he should consider himself lucky that he had made it back behind the cover of the rock without getting his own fool head blown off.
‘That’s sure waiting for a target,’ Em said and took a shot himself.
He spun around and fired from the side of the rock but his bullet spat up soil as it buried itself into the ground.
It was a stalemate and all there was to do was wait each other out. Cole was aware that this situation could go on indefinitely. The two gunmen would no doubt have the patience to sit it out but he didn’t have time to waste. And now that they were without horses escape, even if it was possible, was not an option. Things had to be brought to a head.
They had to either kill or incapacitate the men and take their horses. Cole guessed the former since men such as these would go down fighting.
‘They should hang folk for killing horses like that,’ Em said. He kept glancing at the roan. Cole’s horse lay beside it and it was clear that it too had died. ‘Bastard,’ he muttered under his breath.
‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ Cole said.
‘Any ideas?’
‘Other than running and hoping for the best,’ Cole said with a wry smile, ‘No. None.’
‘What do you think of our chances of rushing them?’ Em asked. He had been in similar situations as this before and the tactic, as risky as it was, did often work. Trouble was when it didn’t the results were usually fatal.
‘I’ve already considered that and there’s no chance,’ Cole said. ‘I’d prefer it if they tried to rush us.’
‘Which they won’t.’
‘No,’ Cole agreed. ‘And for the same reasons as we won’t try it on them.’
Cole recoiled as a bullet tore into the ground only inches from his left boot. He rolled on his stomach and shot back but again there was no target to hit.
‘You shoot,’ Em said. ‘And get back down quickly. As soon as one of them comes up to fire back I’ll get him.’ The old man slid across to the edge of the large rock and peered around it. ‘I’ve got a clear site on where they are. Just need them to pop their heads up.’
Cole nodded and reloaded both of his pistols.
Cole said a silent prayer and made the sign of the cross before leaping and firing several shots from each of the Colts. He saw one of the men come up for a shot back and then he saw the man double up as Em’s Spencer struck home.
‘Boyd,’ the other gunman shouted out like a wild animal, a blood chilling wail and broke cover himself, swinging the evil eye of his rifle towards the old man. He pumped the action like a madman, sending red hot lead screaming towards Em.
‘I’ve got him!’ Em shouted. ‘I’ve got the son-of-a-bitch.’
Em moved back towards the rock but he was careless in his elation and he was spun around as Boyd sent a slug into his leg. Em yelled in pain and reached for the leg but another bullet found his stomach, lifting him and hurling him backwards as the bullet tore through his internal organs. He hit the ground hard, blood seeping from between his fingers as he clutched at the gut wound.
‘I’ve been shot,’ Em groaned and looked down at his wound and at that moment he knew that he was already dead and that all that remained was the dying. ‘I’ve been killed.’
‘No,’ Cole shouted and broke cover, running to the old man. He saw the remaining gunman pop up and sight his rifle. Almost immediately a bullet whistled past his ear and Cole fired back from both Colts, diving as he did so. He came down hard on the ground beside the old man and he fired again. This time luck was with him and he couldn’t have found his target more true had he taken all day about aiming.
The gunman had been standing, taking careful aim with his rifle, but his finger had hesitated too long on the trigger and Cole’s lucky shot went clean between his eyes. His arms threw wide and for a moment he stood there, staring through blood filled eyes, a stunned expression on his face, as if unable to believe that he had been hit, before swaying on his feet and then falling forward onto the ground.
‘Em,’ Cole said and knelt over the old man. There was a huge gaping wound in his stomach and gore seeped through it and was mixing it with the blood and dirt on the ground.
All color had drained from the old man’s face and he looked ghastly. His eyes were dreadfully bloodshot and blood trickled from the corners of his mouth. His breathing was shallow, blood bubbled in the back of his throat and threatening to choke him.
‘Did I kill him?’ Em asked, coughing as his mouth filled with thick blood and dribbled down his chin. He winced in pain with each breath and his mind started to cloud over. The world seemed to darken as if nightfall had come early.
‘You killed him,’ Cole said. ‘Between us we got them both.’
‘They killed me too,’ Em said. He coughed again and blood bubbled from his mouth. ‘Guess I’m gonna’ ride that roan again after all,’ he said and then his eyes rolled back in their sockets as he breathed his last breath.
Em Tanner was dead.
For a long while Cole knelt there, besides the old man. His head bowed, he closed his eyes and felt a wave of mixed emotions—regret, grief, guilt but above all a seething anger.
Eventually Cole stood up and went over to the fallen gunmen. Mechanically he removed their weapons from their corpses and then went and got one of their horses. The other horse he tethered to the gnarled branch of a long dead tree.
He took a bedroll from the saddle and used it to create a makeshift shroud for Em. He tied it around the old man’s body and then lifted him and carefully placed the body over the horse. Next he collected both his own and Em’s belonging from their dead horses and tied them next to the old man. He kept the Winchester and slid it into the boot of the other horse.
Then and only then did he walk over and take a look at the two gunmen. Em had been right and the first man was definitely of mixed race, a half-breed with his Indian side being genetically dominant. The other man, the one Em’s rifle had made short work of, was white. He lay there a ghastly sight, his eyes wide open and sightless in death with a third bloody eye between them.
Cole searched the bodies for any evidence to link the men with Clem Bowden but all found was a thick envelope which contained a thousand dollars. Blood money, more than likely. He put the money into his own saddlebag, thinking that the cash would, if not tie the men to Bowden, then it would at least add weight to the charge that he had hired them.
Scum, Cole thought.
‘Ain’t wasting time burying you,’ Cole said and without looking back at the two men. ‘Buzzard’s got to eat.’
Cole reached into his shirt and removed the buckled badge. With his thumb he wiped at the bloodstain, Steve McCaw’s blood, and then placed the badge on.
He was still the sheriff of Squaw and he was going to stop the stage, and bring the Bowdens, both of the son-of-bitches, to justice. Too many men had died here today and one of them at least had been a good man; a damn good man.
Maybe there would be other deaths before this was all over but that was the way it had to be. It was Bowden who had forced things this way and by God he was going to pay.
Cole mounted up and sent the large horse trotting forward, he had the reins of the horse carrying Em tied to his saddle horn, and the horse followed behind at the casual pace Cole set.
‘It ends now,’ Cole said and bit back a tear at Em’s passing.
There would be time enough for grieving later.
For now the only emotion he needed was the seething anger in the pit of his stomach for it would keep him fresh, help him remain focused on what had to be done.
He looked down at the buckled badge he wore and it became more than what it actually was to him. He saw it as a symbol of all things right and a harbinger of destruction to all that stood against it. It represented a law higher than that of man; it was a weapon in the eternal battle between good and evil.
Cole thumbed tobacco into his pipe and took a match to it. He smoked slowly and rode even slower, all the while his every limb ready to spring into action should he come across the remainder of the posse. But the journey went without event and soon, after crossing the river, Cole saw the trail the missing posse members had left as they’d rode off, back towards the town of Squaw.
That was one mystery solved and Cole looked back at Em’s body, draped in the makeshift shroud and tied over the horse. ‘Guess you were right, old man,’ he said and then spurred the horse to gain a little speed.
The sheriff of Squaw rode on.
His mind set on the final showdown.