The Lawman

Chapter Forty-two

Anne Merritt fell into a crouch, Moran’s gun in her right hand. She peered outside and pulled her head back in when there was another shot.

“How many of them?” Decker asked.

“I can’t tell,” Anne said, “but he’s got three men.”

“Cover him,” Decker said. Anne turned and pointed her gun at Moran as Decker moved to the door. He chanced a look outside, and a bullet stuck the doorjamb, spraying his face with wood splinters.

“Can’t see how many of them there are,” he said, “but we’ll have to assume that all three are out there.”

“How did they know—”

“Who knows? One of them might have seen me in the back and went to get the others. When they heard the shots it wouldn’t be hard to figure out that something was wrong.”

“Maybe if we tell them who we are and that we’re taking Moran back—”

“We’re not lawmen, Anne—and Moran is the man who pays them. They’re not going to let us take him.”

“So what do we do?” she asked. “We’re pinned down and we don’t even have a sheriff to turn to.”

“We’ll just have to get out of this ourselves,” he said. He pointed to the office door and asked, “Where does that lead to?”

“The sitting room.”

“All right. Keep him covered and keep this door closed.” He slammed the door closed, and it was immediately peppered with bullets.

“Where are you going?”

“Through the building to the front. Maybe I can get out that way and get behind them.”

“Be careful,” she said. “You’re outnumbered three to one.”

“Don’t remind me.”

He started for the door, then stopped when Crystal moaned. He leaned over and saw that she was semiconscious. He face was covered with sweat, and her complexion was waxy and pale.

“How is she?”

“She’s in shock. If we don’t get her out of here fast she’ll die.”

Anne turned to Moran and said, “If you ever had any real feelings about Crystal you’ll let us get her out of here to a doctor!”

“Sorry, sweetie,” Moran said, “but I’ve got more important things to worry about than her life.”

“Yeah,” Decker said, “his neck. If he tries anything, Anne, kill him. He pays off dead or alive.”

“Right.”

Decker went through the door to the sitting room and closed it behind him. He was in the dark and he waited for his eyes to adjust. When they did he was able to see his way to the front door. He moved across the room with his gun ready and made it to the door with no problems. All three of Moran’s men must have been outside. Luckily they hadn’t thought of getting to the office through here.

When he reached the front door he peered out the window next to it to the street. He couldn’t see anyone, but then they would be taking cover near the side of the house so they could look down the alleyway. As quietly as he could he unlocked the door, opened it and stepped out onto the front porch. He closed the door and fell into a crouch.

He remained quiet that way for a few moments and was finally rewarded when he heard voices. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they were male voices, and had to be Moran’s men.

The way Decker figured it, these fellas were working strictly for money, and there was no loyalty involved here. Crystal’s Palace hadn’t been set up long enough for loyalty to have become a factor.

He moved in a crouch to the end of the porch, and from there he was able to see two men, one on either side of the mouth of the alley. There was more than half a moon, and plenty of light to see by. From where they were, looking down the dark alley, anyone who stepped into the open doorway would be a perfect target.

There were two ways he could have played this. He could simply have gunned them in the back, or he could call out to them to give up their guns. Since he didn’t fancy himself much of a back-shooter, he opted for the latter.

Standing up he called out, “Okay boys, the game is over. Drop your guns.”

Their reaction was immediate. They both turned and fired at him. Decker was a split second ahead of them and fired first.

His bullet struck one man and spun him around, although Decker couldn’t see how badly he was hit. That man’s shot went wild, but the other man’s barely missed Decker and slapped into the side of the house.

Decker fired again, catching the second man solidly in the body. He yelled out, dropped his gun and slumped to the ground, his arms wrapped around himself.

The first man was still holding his gun and made an attempt to raise it into firing position.

“Don’t try it, friend!” Decker shouted, aiming his gun at the man.

The man looked at Decker, figured his chances and then dropped the gun. From the looks of him he had been hit in the shoulder.

That was two, so where was the third man?

“Where’s the other one?”

“What other one?” the man asked.

“The third man. Where is he?”

“Asleep.”

“I don’t buy—” Decker started to say and then he heard a board creak behind him. The third man was behind him and probably had no qualms about shooting him in the back. Could he turn and fire fast enough—and if he did, wouldn’t the wounded man grab for his gun? One of them would get him.

“Decker!” someone shouted, and although it was a familiar voice, he didn’t expect to hear it here.

He turned and the third man was aiming at him, about to fire. There was a shot, and the third man staggered to his left and fell—or was thrown—through the window into the house.

Decker turned back quickly and saw the wounded man reach his gun and close his hand over it. He fired, and the man cried out and fell over.

Now he rushed to the broken window to see how the third man was, but there was nothing to fear from him. He was lying in a pool of blood, some of it from cuts he’d suffered from the broken glass, but most of it from the bullet hole in the side of his neck.

Someone mounted the steps behind Decker and he turned, his gun ready, but relaxed when he saw the face of Tomàs de la Vega.

“Tomàs! What are you doing here?”

His friend smiled, holstered his gun and punched him in the nose.

“I owed you that!”