Ironhorse

100

Cavanaugh was dead on his feet with the eight-gauge propping him up but his hand released, the gun dropped, and he fell forward flat on his face with the arrow sticking out of his back. Berkeley had Wellington tight against the wall.

“Where are they?” I said.

Berkeley let up on Wellington, but Wellington gasped, trying to get some breath, so Berkeley — in his own way — helped him. Berkeley slapped him hard.

“You heard him!” Berkeley said.

Wellington just sucked air.

Berkeley slapped him again, harder.

“Berkeley,” I said.

Berkeley let up on Wellington, but all Wellington could do was bend over coughing, trying to get his breath.

Berkeley lifted him up to face us.

“Where!” Berkeley said. “Where are they, goddamn it!”

Wellington’s coughing got worse and his face got redder than it already was as he continued gasping for air.

Jimmy John came hurrying up to the door.

“Got one running,” Jimmy John said pointing to the north. “That way!”

“Get on him!” Virgil said.

Virgil moved quick out the door, following Jimmy John on the run.

“Go,” Berkeley said to me. “If there is anything to get out of this son of a bitch, I’ll get it. Go!”

I picked up my eight-gauge and moved out the door, following after Virgil and Jimmy John.

They were running next to a coal track that traveled from the road toward the mines. Virgil and Jimmy John were ahead of me by about twenty-five yards. As I was on the run, I heard a horse to my left, and I saw movement in the trees. I heard galloping. I stopped next to a small watershed. Riding out of the trees, running directly toward me, came a rider. He was looking back over his shoulder toward Virgil and Jimmy John — they had run past him — and the rider had no idea he was riding directly at me. When he turned in the saddle to look forward, he saw me. It was Lassiter. He was too late to rein the mount away from me as I swung my eight-gauge and hit him square in the face with the heavy barrels. Lassiter flipped backward out of the saddle and hit the ground like a shot buffalo.

“Got him here, Virgil!” I called out, “I got him back here! It’s Lassiter!”

Berkeley came running up.

“The mine shaft!” Berkeley shouted out as he came running, pointing. “He said they were stowed in the mine shaft!”

“They alive?” I asked.

“Don’t know,” Berkeley said, out of breath. “He went limp. I wrapped him in barbed wire.” Berkeley looked at Lassiter on his back, spitting up blood and teeth. “Keep going! I got this bastard, and the other! Go!” Berkeley grabbed Lassiter and started dragging him back toward the office like a rag doll.

I moved off as Virgil and Jimmy John came up. “Mine shaft!” I said.

Virgil, Jimmy John, and I ran down the coal rail into the fog. My mind was racing again, thinking about Emma, and I was feeling scared. Hell, all the gun hands we’d faced through the years, I was never scared. Not of anything, ever, but I was now. Guess I didn’t care about myself, or anyone else, enough to ever be scared. It never mattered really if I lived or if I died, but for some reason I felt different. I had a sick feeling in my stomach. We followed the rail as it curved around a tall outcropping and turned between low-growing evergreens before we saw the mine. Even though the shaft was within sight, it seemed like it was a mile away. A cluster of crows picked up out of dry hackberry trees surrounding the entrance to the mine as we got close. There were thick oak doors covering the entrance that were chained and locked.

Virgil stepped off to the side, put his Colt close to the lock, and pulled the trigger. The lock jumped but did not open. He shot it a second time, and the lock opened.

I unwrapped the chain looped between the two big doors’ iron handles, and we pulled the heavy doors open. The first thing I saw made my heart drop.