Kid Palomino Read online

  ‘Looks like we got ourselves some horseflesh after all, Deacon,’ he chuckled in his usual sickly manner. ‘A quarter horse for you and a high-shouldered beauty for me. Come take a looksee.’

  Danby Deacon reluctantly pushed the swing doors apart and left the confines of the Busted Wheel. He moved after the confident outlaw. ‘Has the shooting stopped, Bill?’

  Carson snapped the chamber of his smoking gun and spun its cylinder as he glared at Kid Palomino standing behind the bullet-ridden Peters.

  ‘The shooting’s nearly stopped, Deacon,’ he drawled as he cocked the gun and aimed it at the head of the youthful star-packer. ‘There’s just one more varmint I’ve gotta put out of its misery. Then we can ride out of this town with the loot.’

  Palomino was holding the lifeless Poke Peters upright with both hands. It took every scrap of his strength. He knew that it was impossible to release his grip and draw one of his guns before Carson fired.

  ‘Tell me one thing,’ Carson growled as he closed the distance between them. ‘Who in tarnation are you? You’ve bin a real pain in my arse.’

  ‘He’s Kid Palomino, Carson,’ Red shouted out from behind both Deacon and Carson as he pushed his way through the swing doors and stood with his cocked gun in his hand. ‘Now drop that hog-leg before I drop you.’

  Bill Carson lowered his head thoughtfully and then sighed as he stared at the smoking gun in his hand.

  FINALE

  Deacon turned and ran toward Red with his hands clasped together as though in prayer. He fell on to his knees and pleaded to the lawman, ‘Help me. I don’t know who this man is, Deputy. He and his cronies ambushed me. They’re monsters and I’m just a simple gambler. Please save me.’

  As Red considered the outpouring, Bill Carson turned on his heels with his six-shooter at hip height and glared at Deacon in disgust. He glared at the man who until now had never given him any reason to doubt his word.

  ‘You stinking liar,’ Carson hissed like a sidewinder and then fired straight into the back of the kneeling Deacon. As the criminal mastermind arched and fell lifelessly on to his face, Red squeezed his own trigger and sent a bullet into the centre of Carson’s chest.

  The outraged outlaw staggered across the sand coughing up bloody spittle with every step. His vicious eyes glared at Red as he steadied himself. ‘You shouldn’t have done that, star-packer.’

  Red dragged his hammer back with his thumb as he watched Carson muster every ounce of his dwindling energy to raise his gun-hand again.

  ‘Drop that gun, Carson,’ Red shouted at the outlaw.

  The veteran outlaw did not listen. He cocked the hammer of his gun again and stared with deathly eyes at the man with the tin star gleaming on his chest. ‘That was a real big mistake, star-packer. I’m dead but so are you.’

  Fearing for the safety of his friend, Palomino swiftly released his hold on the lifeless Peters and drew his own .45 in one fluid action. He repeatedly fanned the gun hammer and sent the last of its bullets into Bill Carson.

  The outlaw swayed as his gun fell from his hand and landed in the sand heavily. His eyes snaked between the two men wearing the tin stars. Carson spat blood at the ground as life slowly left his bullet-ridden torso. He flinched in agony while death gripped his torrid soul in its unforgiving fingers. He then stumbled and he fell.

  It was like watching a tree falling.

  Dust rose around the body and hung in the dry air as Palomino limped across to his pal, patted him on the arm and then sat down on the weathered boardwalk. He removed his gloves and started to reload his gun with bullets from his belt.

  ‘Where’s the bank money, Red?’ the Kid asked wearily.

  ‘On a card table inside the saloon, Kid,’ Red sighed and slid his gun back into its holster. ‘I passed it on the way here.’

  ‘How come you took so long?’ Palomino asked wryly. ‘I nearly got myself killed out here before you showed.’

  Red rubbed his scarlet whiskers. ‘You told me to be careful, Kid. I was being careful.’

  Palomino chuckled and pushed the chamber back into the body of his Colt. ‘That’s true, I did tell you to be careful.’

  Red walked to both their horses and led them to the trough next to the outlaws’ spent mounts. He wrapped their long leathers around the hitching pole and secured them before resting a boot on the step of the boardwalk.

  ‘By my figuring we got them all, Palomino,’ he said as he pulled his tobacco pouch from his shirt pocket and started to sprinkle the contents on to the gummed paper.

  Kid Palomino got to his feet as the sound of pounding hoofs echoed around the weathered structures. He leaned over the trough and splashed water into his face to soothe his sore eye. He straightened up and stared at the five horsemen as they entered Dry Gulch.

  ‘Sheriff Lomax is finally here with his posse, Red,’ he sighed before stepping up on to the boardwalk and placing a hand on the swing doors. ‘C’mon. I’ll buy you a beer.’

  Red rubbed his chin and poked the twisted cigarette in the corner of his mouth. ‘Do you reckon that fancy-looking dude lying in the dust is the hombre Carson got all his information from, Kid?’

  Palomino scratched a match across his belt buckle and lit his partner’s cigarette. As smoke drifted from Red’s mouth the Kid tossed the match at the sandy street.

  ‘Yep, I sure do.’ He nodded and walked into the saloon with his pal a step behind him.

  ‘Come to think about it I seen him about two weeks back playing poker in Fargo, Kid.’ Red pulled the cigarette from his lips and blew smoke at the sawdust-covered floor. ‘He sure was a mighty bad poker player.’

  ‘It don’t matter none, Red,’ Palomino smiled. ‘Not where he’s headed.’

  The posse pulled up outside the Busted Wheel as the two deputies reached the bar and rested their aching bones against its wooden counter. They glanced at the swollen satchels of the three saddle-bags on the card table and then Palomino nodded to the tall man polishing glasses behind the bar.

  ‘A couple of tall beers, barkeep,’ Palomino told the bartender before noticing the pained expression on his pal’s face. ‘What’s troubling you, Red?’

  Red glanced at his friend.

  ‘How come Sheriff Lomax always arrives after the shooting’s ended, Kid?’ Red sighed as he sucked smoke into his lungs.

  Kid Palomino thought for a moment then shook his head and shrugged. ‘I reckon that’s one mystery we’ll never be able to figure, Red.’

  Hyram Smith placed the two tall beers down and watched as the deputies lifted the glasses and tapped them together.

  ‘For Charlie,’ Palomino toasted.

  ‘Charlie,’ Red nodded.