Part 21 (1/2)

Luke eased the door closed behind him so no one would notice it standing open and started along the carpet runner toward the far end of the corridor.

He kept the shotgun level so he could fire instantly and watched the doors as he approached and pa.s.sed them. If someone opened a door behind him and tried to get the drop on him, he wouldn't have much warning, so he listened intently.

As far as he could tell, everyone in the hotel seemed to be asleep. He heard snores coming from behind some of the doors. Whether those sleepers were Harmon's men or innocent bystanders, he had no way of knowing, but if they stayed where they were, they would be all right.

Harmon's men wouldn't stay put, though, if they heard shots. They would come to investigate immediately, and Luke didn't think they would likely listen to reason.

If they didn't, they'd have to negotiate with some buckshot.

That walk along the second-floor corridor seemed longer than it was. Finally, Luke reached the doors of Harmon's suite. A tiny sliver of light showed through the crack between them, indicating a lamp was lit inside.

As he leaned closer, he was surprised to hear voices. Harmon wasn't alone. A woman spoke inside the suite, and a man responded.

Delia?

That explanation seemed the most likely. Luke figured she was trying to improve her standing with Harmon the only way she knew how.

But then a second man spoke, and Luke recognized Frank McCluskey's voice even if he couldn't make out the words. The realization that the outlaw was there, too, put a frown on Luke's face.

He ignored the words since he couldn't make them out, telling himself it didn't matter what they were doing. The three varmints he wanted the most were together in one place, so that was a stroke of luck for him. He drew back a little, preparing to kick the door open and get the drop on them.

Suddenly, someone shouted and a gunshot blasted inside the suite.

”d.a.m.n it!” Harmon yelled. He pulled the trigger and flame spouted from the muzzle of his gun.

Luke didn't wait any longer. His boot heel crashed against the door, kicking it open. He went in fast with the shotgun leveled.

Instantly, his keen eyes took in the scene. Harmon was on one side of the sitting room, near the bedroom door, with a gun in his hand. McCluskey was on the other side of the room, also holding a revolver.

Delia was between them with one hand pressed to her breast as crimson blood welled between her fingers.

McCluskey whirled toward Luke, but Harmon was still trying to draw a bead on the outlaw for another shot. Even though she was wounded, possibly mortally, Delia cried out and launched herself at the rancher, ramming into him just as he pulled the trigger again. His shot went wild, smacking into the ceiling.

McCluskey took one look at Luke and thought better of trying to shoot it out with a man holding a shotgun. He kept turning and dived toward the window, just as Luke fired one barrel.

The gla.s.s shattered outward as McCluskey crashed into it and toppled over the sill. Most of the buckshot had torn into the wall next to the window, shredding the wallpaper. It hadn't had time to spread much.

Luke didn't know if he had hit the outlaw. He recalled that a little balcony ran along the front of the hotel and wondered if it was outside the window or if McCluskey had fallen to the street.

He got his answer as he started forward. Colt flame bloomed in the darkness as McCluskey, crouched on the balcony outside, fired at him. Luke felt as much as heard the bullet whip past his ear.

He was about to fire the scattergun's second barrel when a shot erupted behind him and plaster leaped from the wall nearby. With McCluskey on one side of him and Harmon on the other, he was caught in a crossfire.

He twisted around and dropped to one knee as he spotted Harmon coming toward him, face contorted with hate. Harmon had pushed Delia aside and was about to cut Luke down at almost point-blank range.

Luke fired first, blasting the second load of buckshot into Harmon's midsection, then rolling across the floor to take cover behind an armchair.

The deadly charge blew the rancher backward, all the way across the room to the far well. He thudded against it and hung there for a second, staring down at his ruined belly in shocked disbelief.

He slid down to a sitting position, leaving a terrible smear of blood on the wall behind him as his head sagged forward in death.

Luke reloaded the Greener.

No more shots came from the window. McCluskey must have fled, Luke thought. With two fresh sh.e.l.ls in the shotgun, he snapped it closed.

Delia moaned as she lay in a limp, b.l.o.o.d.y heap on the floor a few feet from Harmon's body. Luke's first instinct was to go to her and see how badly she was hurt, but two of Harmon's men rushed in, brandis.h.i.+ng guns. They caught sight of their boss's gruesome corpse, then spotted Luke and opened fire. Their bullets sizzled over his head as he unloaded both barrels into the gunmen.

They went down like wheat before a scythe. Neither of them would be getting up again. Once more, Luke broke the shotgun open and thumbed fresh sh.e.l.ls into it.

Outside, more gunfire erupted in the street. It sounded like a small-scale war had broken out in Pine City. Silas Grant, Ben McGill, and other citizens had launched their uprising against Harmon's men. The hired guns wouldn't know yet that Harmon was dead, so they would fight to protect what they thought were their boss's interests.

Knowing the strongboxes full of gold were still in play, Luke thought it was likely McCluskey had gone after them. The outlaw would use the distraction of battle going on around him to try to get his hands on the wagon.

Luke was d.a.m.ned if he was going to let McCluskey drive away with a fortune in gold. He surged to his feet and was about to leap over the bodies of the men he had cut down when he heard a faint voice calling his name. He turned and saw that somehow Delia had pushed herself up on her elbows even though the front of her dress was soaked with blood.

She had even found the strength to pick up the gun Harmon had dropped, and as Luke turned toward her she pulled the trigger and sent flame lancing from the barrel at him.

CHAPTER 34.

McCluskey hung from the balcony and dropped the remaining couple feet to the ground. His right leg buckled under him as he landed, pain shooting through it from the wound in his thigh where one of the buckshot had caught him.

The wound wasn't that bad, he told himself. It hurt like blazes, but that was all. He caught his balance and limped as quickly as he could toward the rear of the hotel where the wagon was parked.

He stopped as more shots rang out along the street. Doubling back, he saw some of Harmon's men trading shots with hombres he didn't know. Must be some of the townsmen fighting back at last, he decided. Jensen probably had something to do with that.

McCluskey turned and headed for the back of the hotel again. He didn't give a d.a.m.n what happened to Harmon's men or to the people of Pine City. All he cared about was the gold.

Well, he was a little sorry that Delia had gotten in the way of a bullet, he reflected. But she had kept that bullet from hitting him, so he was glad about that. She had died helping him, and that was what she would have wanted.

Helping him to be a rich man, he thought with a savage grin as he limped along the alley.

As he came out at the back of the hotel, he saw the wagon immediately, with two of Harmon's men standing beside it holding rifles. As they swung the weapons toward him, he called out quickly, ”Don't shoot! It's me-McCluskey!”

”What're you doin' back here?” one of the gunnies demanded.

McCluskey could tell they were nervous and on the hair trigger of shooting him. ”The boss sent me,” he said, thinking rapidly. ”The townspeople have started a war.” His eyes fell on the team of mules standing under a shed a few yards away. ”Mr. Harmon said to hitch up those jug heads and get the wagon out of here. Take it back to the ranch where it'll be safe.”

”How do we know you ain't lyin' to us?” the other guard asked suspiciously.

”Didn't you hear the boss say this afternoon that he was taking me on as the ramrod of this bunch?” McCluskey snapped as if he were offended by being questioned. ”Anyway, you're taking the gold to the ranch. I wouldn't tell you to do that if I wasn't acting on Harmon's orders, would I?”

That seemed to make sense to the men, but still they hesitated.

McCluskey yelled, ”Get moving before some of those townies come back here and try to grab the gold for themselves!”

Used to following orders, the guards put their rifles aside and began hitching the mules to the wagon. McCluskey kept an eye on the alley, hoping the battle going on elsewhere in Pine City wouldn't move in their direction and disrupt his plans.