Where the Bullets Fly Page 18

Harrington flinched as another volley rose up near the center of town. “It’s dark now. Why don’t we try getting some of the women and children out of town under the cover of darkness? We could get them out on foot toward the JT Ranch. It might be burnt to the ground, but anything’s better than leaving them here to die.”

  But Mackey wouldn’t even consider it. “Can’t risk them being on the trail alone. If Darabont’s men heard them, they’d have even more leverage on us than they do now.”

  Harrington didn’t seem convinced, but another explosion sounded at the south end of town, followed by the crackle of rifles. Mackey forgot about Harrington’s questions and started running in that direction.

  Chapter 27

  The situation at the south end of town was much worse.

  He found Underhill and Pappy eyeing the hillside from the alley between Katie’s Place and a clothing store next door.

  Pappy cut off Underhill as he reported, “All present and accounted for, captain. No casualties and no sign of the heathen bastards since earlier today. But a stick of TNT blew up most of the livery and four horses. It cost us an area of good cover in a forward area and four good mounts, but all of our men got out alive with most of their ammo. Those torches are keeping the enemy up in the rocks.”

  Mackey looked at the charred remains of the stable. The structure still stood, but the fire had weakened it. One good wind could knock the whole thing over into a smoldering heap.

  To Underhill, he asked, “Got any idea on how many sticks they threw at us.”

  This time, it was the marshal’s turn to cut Pappy off. “I counted ten since I got here. The one that hit the livery was a lucky shot.” He patted his Winchester. “The man who threw it ran out of luck soon after.”

  “Let’s hope it keeps that way.” Mackey peered into the darkness, but all he saw was black beyond the torches. “Come morning, we’ll start scouting around and finish this up once and for all. I’ve got a feeling Darabont’s getting reckless and . . .”

  A woman’s shriek pierced the night air. The effect was more destructive than all of the dynamite Darabont had thrown at them.

  None of the men said a word. None of them looked at each other. None of them even moved. They remained frozen in place; looking up into the darkness in the direction of the scream.

  The echo of the first shriek had died out, quickly followed by a longer, louder shriek than the one that had come before it.

  “Christ,” Pappy whispered. “That’s not coming from town, is it?”

  “No,” Underhill said. “Those animals are torturing some poor girl up in the hills. It’s an old Indian trick. Let the screams of a captured enemy carry through camp. Break down our morale.” The marshal turned his head and spat into the street. “Godless bastards.”

  Mackey felt himself gripping the Winchester tighter as a third shriek echoed through the valley. This one wasn’t as loud or as long as the first two had been, but sounded much worse. Deeper. He wondered if it was Katherine. He wondered if Darabont had found out who she was and how much she meant to him.

  As soon as the echo of the woman’s pain died, Darabont’s drawl rang out. “People of Dover Station. I submitted reasonable terms to your sheriff. He replied by killing one of my men. That is why I am appealing directly to all of you. The troubles that have been visited upon your town can end this instant, provided you grant me one simple wish. Tear the star from Aaron Mackey’s shirt, strip him of his weapons and throw him out into the street. Do that, and you people can go back to your lives. If you keep him as your sheriff, I’ll keep raining hellfire down upon you until nothing stands of your wretched little burg. One man in exchange for your town and your lives. We’ll be watching. You have until sun-up to decide.”

  Mackey was already in the street before his father could grab him. He walked toward the unseen hillside, tossing his Winchester in the street, then his pistol as he walked. When he reached the last torch at the perimeter, he held up his hands and turned in a complete circle to show he was unarmed.

  “Why wait? I’m right here. Want my badge?” He unpinned it and dropped it into the street. “You’ve got it. Now turn those people loose and come get me if you’ve got the balls.”

  The same chorus of laughter on the hillside after Taylor had been killed greeted him now. In the darkness, it sounded even louder.

  “I’m afraid that won’t do, Sheriff Mackey,” Darabont called out. “You can’t just turn yourself in. That would be heroic, and you’ve already had enough laudatory praise heaped upon you. No, your people have to hand you over to me. They have to make the choice. They have to save themselves. It’s the principle of the thing.”

  “To hell with principle,” Mackey said. “And to hell with you. I’m here. Alone and unarmed. Right out in the open. Where are you?”

  The only sound he heard was the night wind blowing through the hillside.

  Mackey kept pushing. “You men who are with Darabont. Here I am, all alone and your leader won’t even come face me. You’ll torture a woman, but you haven’t got the sand to take a shot at one unarmed man all alone? What does that say about you? What does that say about the man you’re following?”

  He couldn’t see the dozens of pairs of eyes on him, but he could feel every one. He hoped one of them took a shot at him. They might miss. They might not. But the muzzle flare would give away their position, and Darabont would lose another gun hand. Maybe more if Darabont’s men panicked and made themselves targets.

  But no one took a shot. He didn’t even hear a sound.

  Mackey took that as an answer. “Don’t say I never gave you a chance. And don’t expect mercy when I start to kill you.”

  As he began to pick up his gun belt and star off the ground, the screams of the dying woman started up again.

  Mackey pinned his star on his shirt, took his Winchester, and walked back toward the barricade.

  * * *

  Pappy grabbed his son by the throat and pinned him against the wall. Underhill began to intervene, but Billy held him back.

  Pappy moved his face to within an inch of his son’s. “What the hell were you doing just now? Trying to get yourself killed?”

  Mackey didn’t try to struggle under his father’s grip. He knew he’d never break it. The old man had hands like a vice. “I was trying to get him to do something stupid.”

  “You’re the only one who did anything stupid, boy. You getting shot would’ve gutted this town. Where would we be then?”

  “He’s torturing women up there and lobbing dynamite down at us and calling for my head on a plate,” Mackey said. “What do you want me to do? Hide behind cover like a goddamned rabbit?”

  Pappy pulled his son off the wall and slammed him against it again. “I expect you to be what this town needs right now. And right now, this town needs a leader, not another corpse.”

  Billy stepped close, but not too close. “What we need is for you two to quit yelling at each other. You’re giving Darabont exactly what he wants. The enemy’s up in the hills, not down here with us.”

  Pappy released his son with a shove and moved away.

  Mackey tried not to show how much his chest hurt. He remembered warning Underhill about his father’s strength. He’d just been reminded of it himself.

  Underhill stayed out of Pappy’s way as he joined Billy and Mackey. “Wish my old man cared about me that much.”

  Mackey rubbed his chest and stifled a cough. “Sometimes he cares too much.”

  “Nice to be thought of, though.” Underhill tilted his head back toward Front Street. “How do you think the good citizens of Dover Station will take to Darabont’s offer?”

  “They’ll ignore it,” Billy said.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure, deputy. Scared people can be mighty unpredictable. It’s more likely than not that some of them will think he’s making a good offer. Best to be prepared for that eventuality.”

  “This town’s different than most towns you’ve been in, Underhill. Most
of these men have been in combat. They know you can’t appease a man like Darabont. If anything, they’ll want to protect Mackey just because Darabont wants him.”

  Mackey took his Winchester and began walking back toward the jailhouse. “By God, fellas. I’ve never felt so wanted in my life.”

  Chapter 28

  Word of Darabont’s message was already sweeping through town as Mackey walked back to the jailhouse. He heard them whispering about it, only to hush when they saw him approaching, only to go back to discussing it when they thought him out of earshot. He didn’t have to hear what they were saying to know what they were talking about. He knew they weren’t ready to throw him out yet, but they were thinking about it.

  When they reached the jailhouse, Mackey sat at his desk and began levering cartridges out of his rifle and began cleaning it. He knew it would get plenty of action in the hours ahead. It was only wise to keep it pristine. Billy sat next to the stove and began doing the same thing.

  From his cell in the back, Berrie called out, “You kill any more of my friends, sheriff?”

  “Keep running your mouth and I’ll kill you for certain.” Mackey went back to cleaning his rifle.

  Underhill took a seat just inside the door. “Don’t you think you ought to be out there speaking to the people instead of in here cleaning your guns?”

  Mackey kept doing what he was doing. “This cleaning has a purpose. Keeps the gun clean and in fine working order. Talking to a scared mob has no purpose. They just hear sound and stay scared. The men guarding the town are the only people that matter right now. They’ll hold. Billy here will go out in a while and check on the men, make sure they’ve got plenty of ammunition and food.”

  Underhill cleared his throat, the way he always seemed to do when he didn’t like an idea. “Why Billy? Why don’t you do it?”

  Billy, as was his custom, answered for Mackey. “Because the sheriff will get mobbed with questions as soon as he hits the boardwalk. But if I do it, they’ll ask me how he’s doing and I’ll tell them he’s fine and he’s brave and he ain’t goin’ nowhere. If he says it, it’ll sound like a lie. If I say it, well, that means at least one more person believes in him and is sticking by him. It’ll help reinforce the notion that maybe they should, too.”

  “Sounds complicated.”

  Mackey pulled the cleaning rod out of the rifle barrel. “Dover Station is a complicated town, Underhill. Best you get some sleep. I intend on taking five men with me and hitting that hill at first light. If you want to be one of them, you’ll need rest.”

  The chair creaked as Underhill sat forward. “Five against them?”

  Mackey kept cleaning. “That’s what I said.”

  “Seems kind of sparse, don’t you think?”

  Mackey looked up from his rifle. It may have been five years since his cavalry days, but he still wasn’t used to having his tactics questioned. “We can afford to lose five without losing the town. Any more than five, things might get dicey if we don’t come back.”

  “You planning on bringing my prisoners with you?”

  “You, me, Billy, and the Boudreaux boys,” Mackey said. “Sim’s out there right now scouting Darabont’s positions as best he can, but he’ll pitch in when the time comes. That’ll bring the total number to six if it makes you feel any better.”

  “The Boudreaux boys.” Underhill spat into the spittoon by the door. “You put a lot of stock in those raping murderers, don’t you?”

  Mackey set the rifle aside. “I thought you’d give that nonsense up by now.”

  “Enforcing the law ain’t nonsense, Mackey.”

  “You’re not enforcing a goddamned thing and you know it.”

  Underhill lifted his head a couple of inches. “I’m afraid I don’t grasp your meaning.”

  “Sure you do. If those boys were guilty, they would’ve put one through your head by now and blamed Darabont’s men for it. None of the men in town would’ve called them liars, either. The Boudreaux brothers didn’t rape anybody. And I’d wager those ladies’ husbands weren’t shot in the back like you said. Were they?”

  Underhill looked away.

  Mackey didn’t. “You’ve probably seen your share of trail jumpings. I’d wager that scene didn’t look like an ambush to you.”

  Underhill looked at his shoes.

  “What did that scene look like anyway?”

  Underhill looked at his fingernails. “Both men were found on their backs behind boulders on a hillside just outside of El Paso. Both shot clean through the head, most likely by a rifle.”

  Billy nodded. “Bet those men were still clutching their rifles when you found them. Had all their gear, too.”

  Underhill snapped. “I do what I’m told, same as you. And when the judge tells me to go after them, I go after them.”

  “We’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” Mackey said. “Seems awful far to trail two men you figured were just defending themselves. Seems awful personal to me. Like maybe the Boudreauxs weren’t the first to take a poke at those ladies.”

  Underhill and Billy got to their feet at the same time. He froze when the blade of Billy’s Bowie knife touched his throat.

  Mackey remained seated. “Guess I hit a nerve just then.”

  The marshal turned scarlet, but remained silent.

  “You even a lawman, Underhill?”

  The big man slowly stepped back from Billy’s knife edge; keeping his hands away from his sides. Billy let him, but kept the knife ready.

  Mackey’s hand casually moved to his stomach; less than an inch from the pistol butt on his belt. “Tell the truth, now.”

  Underhill sat back down. “Probably not anymore. The judge and me weren’t on the best terms back then. The reasons don’t matter much now, I guess. The women were sporting ladies and their husbands were more like regular customers who didn’t take kindly to them being with other men. They had to force the ladies to swear out a complaint, but I figured bringing the Boudreauxs back might put me in good with the judge again. He told me to come back with them or not at all. Gave me a month to find them.” He looked at the floor. “It’s been a lot longer than a month.”

  Mackey said. “This judge never swore out a warrant for the Boudreauxs, did he?”

  “On the word of whores?” Underhill shook his head. “No, but he still wanted to talk to those boys. I stayed on their trail, though, all the way up here.”

  “On a bogus damned charge,” Billy said.

  “I had to be somewhere,” Underhill admitted. “Figured if I brought them in, the judge might change his opinion of me. Didn’t count on it taking so long or leading me so far.”

  Once again, the screams of the tortured woman began to echo again through the valley around Dover Station.

  Underhill added, “Didn’t count on this, either.”

  Mackey stood up and walked past Billy and Underhill out onto the boardwalk.

  Katherine?

  There was no way to tell if it was her or not. The woman’s pain was carried from the darkness on the night wind, past the burning torches that ringed the town until it reached Front Street. He looked up and down the street as if he might be able to see the woman, even though he knew Darabont and his bastards had the poor girl up in the hillside some place.

  Darabont’s men were making her pay. Not for Mackey’s sins or for the town’s refusal to give up their sheriff. Darabont was torturing her for a sin committed against him long ago. The sin his mother had committed by giving birth to him in the first place.

  It can’t be Katherine, can it? God, please no.

  Mackey caught himself and stopped that nonsense. Pleading to God had never gotten him anywhere before and he doubted it would start now. He told himself her voice was too delicate to carry that far, no matter what Darabont and his men did to her. He told himself she’d charm Darabont into sparing her life, that he wouldn’t waste such a precious captive as her. He told himself these things several times a second as he stood helpless on
the porch. He told himself over and over again as the woman’s screams grew louder and longer each time.

  He told himself these things enough to the point where he almost believed it himself, though deep down, he knew you couldn’t tell much from a scream beyond the horrible pain that caused it.

  And, as was his custom, Billy once again gave voice to what was on his mind. “You know that’s not her, don’t you?”

  But Mackey wasn’t so sure.

  Mackey realized Underhill had joined them on the porch. Whatever tension had been between the three of them had passed. The truth had a way of cleansing things once it was in the air.

  “I might’ve come up here for one reason, Aaron,” Underhill said, “but I’m here now. And I’m with you and this town until the bitter end. No matter what happens. You’ve got my promise on that.”

  His words did little to soothe the ache in his belly as the woman’s screams reached him.

  “Come sunrise, I’m going to hold you to that.”

  Chapter 29

  About an hour before dawn the next morning, Mackey and the others crouched at the foot of the hill on the north end of town near the blacksmith’s shop. The torches had all burned out by then, and all forty riflemen guarding the town waited for something to move in the brightening hillside.

  Mackey watched Sim make his way up the hillside in the near dark. The air was completely still, devoid of insect noise or chirping birds. Every living thing seemed to sense something was about to happen and didn’t dare make a sound.

  Mackey watched Sim quietly scale the hill without so much as knocking a pebble out of place. He always marveled at the way the old scout moved, his movements smooth and flowing; one motion building the next. He watched Sim move around the brush and rocks of the hillside until he disappeared among the overgrowth.

  Underhill was crouched next to Mackey behind the rail fence. “Jesus, that fella’s quiet.”

  Neither Mackey nor Billy nor the Boudreauxs said a word. Sim’s talent spoke for itself.

  A few moments later, Mackey saw Sim’s outline at the top of the hill against the brightening sky. He waved his arms, beckoning them to climb up to join him.