Kid Palomino Page 5

  ‘What we gonna do, Bill?’ Kane asked his merciless leader.

  ‘There’s only one thing we can do, Kane,’ Carson said in a low whisper as his fingers curled around the holstered guns. ‘Lawmen are like Injuns and they say the only good’uns are dead’uns. The same applies to star-packing bastards like them critters.’

  Poke Peters moved his horse to the head of Carson’s. ‘I like your thinking, Bill. Ain’t nothing more satisfying than killing lawmen.’

  The mind of Kid Palomino was racing like a locomotive under a full head of steam. He focused hard on the lead rider and then realized who he was looking at. He looked to both his companions in turn.

  ‘That’s Bill Carson, boys,’ Palomino stated confidently as he pulled the Winchester from under his arm and readied it for action. ‘I’ve seen his wanted poster a hundred times over the last few years.’

  Before either Red or Charlie could respond to the Kid’s statement they noticed the horsemen suddenly swing their mounts violently around to face them. As dust rose from the hoofs of the five animals the air began to crackle with fiery lead as the outlaws suddenly unleashed their arsenal on the trio of lawmen.

  Red hot tapers cut through the shimmering haze and whizzed by the law officers. Palomino dragged the old man behind a water trough as Red took refuge in a doorway.

  Within a few moments the street became deafening as the outlaws kept firing their guns at them. Chunks of wood were ripped from the rim of the trough and flew up into the air. At the same time the side of the doorframe where Red had taken refuge also began to disintegrate as bullets tore into its lumber.

  Red pressed his back against the door. He waited for a brief lull in the vicious attack and then blasted his Winchester at the outlaws. Yet for every shot he managed to fire at Carson and his gang, at least six bullets were returned. Red was trapped and he knew it. Bullets continued to gnaw away at the wall beside Red’s shoulder until he was covered in burning sawdust.

  Crouching behind the cover of the water trough, Kid Palomino and the startled old timer were also pinned down.

  ‘This is getting serious, Kid,’ Charlie piped up. ‘I’m starting to get mighty riled.’

  Kid patted the veteran lawman on his skinny shoulder.

  ‘Don’t get riled, Charlie,’ he said from the corner of his mouth. ‘I’ll try to fend the bastards off.’

  The young deputy primed his rifle and then moved around the side of the trough. He fired repeatedly until the Winchester’s magazine was empty and then moved back beside Charlie.

  ‘They’re still shooting at us, Kid,’ the old man sighed and exchanged rifles with his companion. ‘Here, use this’un.’

  ‘Thanks, Charlie.’ Palomino cranked its mechanism.

  Just as he was about to turn and fire another volley of lethal lead at the outlaws he felt a scrawny hand grip his arm. He looked at the whiskered face.

  ‘Try and hit some of them this time,’ Charlie said.

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ the Kid answered as another barrage of bullets ripped into the fabric of the water trough. ‘You can reload my rifle for me.’

  As the older lawman started to remove bullets from his gunbelt and push them into the rifle’s magazine, Palomino turned and rested on both knees. The blinding sun mixed with the ever increasing smoke coming from the outlaw’s gun barrels made it tough for even his young eyes to find a target but the Kid was determined to try.

  Flashes of deafening gunfire lit up the eerie street and drilled into the trough as Palomino gripped the Winchester firmly and raised its metal barrel. He focused along the gun sights at the fiery flashes and then fired.

  Within seconds bullets came at him from the riders’ arsenal of six-shooters. The ground around the trough was peppered with lead. A cloud of choking dust flew up and forced Palomino to retreat to the side of the grumbling old timer.

  ‘You’d best start killing them varmints before they kill us, Kid,’ Charlie sniffed.

  ‘I’m trying, old timer.’ Palomino rubbed the dust from his face as they felt the trough behind their backs rock under the deadly onslaught.

  Charlie raised his bushy eyebrows. ‘Try harder.’

  Flabbergasted by his elderly pal’s attitude, Palomino decided to try harder. He crawled over the skinny legs of the old lawman and immediately started firing the rifle from the opposite corner of the trough.

  Shafts of lead criss-crossed the length of the street. The outlaws had the three star-packers trapped and they knew it. Slowly they began to edge their mounts closer to their cornered targets. The entire street was engulfed in red-hot tapers and enough noise to shatter eardrums.

  Palomino exhausted his rifle’s ammunition and crawled back to Charlie’s side. He thrust the smoking rifle into the old timer’s hands and grabbed the fully loaded weapon.

  Red fired three swift shots from his place of cover. Then he was forced back behind the bullet-ridden wall as every one of the horsemen fired at him.

  ‘Are you OK, Red?’ the Kid yelled out above the relentless din of gunfire.

  ‘I think so,’ Red gasped as yet another half-dozen shots tore even more of the wooden door frame apart.

  ‘I’ve had me enough of this, Charlie.’ Kid Palomino cranked the hand guard of his rifle and then swiftly swung around and began to empty its venom at the approaching horsemen. ‘Now I’m getting darn sore at Carson and his gang.’

  Charlie Summers clapped his hands. ‘Hallelujah! Now maybe we’ll send them bastards to Boot Hill.’

  Bullets ripped into the trough that the Kid was shielded behind. Water sprayed up over the defiant deputy as he continued to fire his Winchester at the horsemen.

  The toxic mix of gunsmoke and hoof dust did not make the task of hitting any of the targets Palomino had chosen to shoot at any easier. Yet the simple matter that he could not see any of the outlaws did not deter Palomino.

  The Kid knew that if you couldn’t see the men you were aiming at you looked for the bright flashes their six-guns spewed out. His eyes narrowed as he quickly blasted the Winchester every time they fired their guns.

  His lethal accuracy began to pay off. He heard one of Carson’s men yelp like a kicked hound.

  Red stepped out on to the boardwalk and fired his own rifle into the men masked by choking gunsmoke.

  ‘Get behind the trough, Red,’ Palomino urged as he continued to fire the smoking rifle into the depths of the dust cloud. ‘Take cover with Charlie.’

  ‘Quit gabbing and start picking them varmints off, Kid,’ Red said as he fired from the boardwalk.

  Then the five riders emerged from the dust. Their mounts reared up in terror as their masters blasted more and more bullets at the lawmen.

  One bullet ripped the hat from Red’s head and he doubled in pain. He fell on to his knees and clutched his head and crawled back to the doorframe.

  With the sound of firing still echoing in his ears, Red stared at the blood on his gloved hand. He rested on one knee and began reloading the smoking rifle.

  ‘I’ve bin grazed, Kid,’ Red shouted.

  ‘It’s a good job you ain’t my height, Red.’ Palomino leapt over the trough and crouched down at its side as he exchanged his empty Winchester for the one Charlie had just reloaded.

  Charlie tugged on Palomino’s sleeve. He drew the youngster’s attention.

  ‘I’m all out of bullets, boy,’ the elderly lawman said. ‘Make ’em count.’

  ‘I’ll try my best.’ Palomino checked his own belt. He had only a few bullets remaining himself. He then inspected his handguns and shook his head. He hadn’t reloaded the two matched Colts since last using them. He had only three fresh bullets in the weapon’s dozen chambers. ‘Reckon I’ll have to stop missing, huh?’

  ‘Good,’ Charlie sighed rolling his eyes. ‘At this rate we’ll end up throwing rocks at them.’

  Palomino cranked the hand guard. A spent casing flew from the rifle’s magazine as the deputy raised the Winchester and eased its stock into the groov
e of his shoulder.

  Carson’s men suddenly transferred their lethal lead in Red’s direction. Window panes shattered sending fragments of glass all over the boardwalk. Lumps of wood were torn from the side of the door frame forcing Red to press his backbone against the door.

  ‘Keep drawing their fire, Red,’ Palomino shouted as he levelled the rifle and rested its hot barrel on the rim of the trough. ‘Keep drawing their fire.’

  Within only a few heart-stopping moments the air was thick with acrid gunsmoke as Palomino tried to hit the horsemen who were shielded by the swirling mist. Shot after shot came at the Kid as he held his nerve and waited for a clear target.

  Then he saw one of the Brand brothers emerge from the dense smoke. As Amos Brand sat on his nervous gelding and forced fresh bullets into the magazine of his carbine, Palomino squeezed gently on his trigger.

  The rifle shuddered in his hands as a flash of flames and smoke erupted from the Winchester’s barrel. As he rocked on his knees he knew that he had finally hit one of them.

  Amos Brand lifted off his saddle and crashed heavily into the dry sand between the other horses. Palomino pushed the hand guard down and then dragged it back up. Another metal casing flew over his shoulder as the young deputy squinted through the heat haze and smoke at the lifeless body upon the sand.

  ‘Good shot, Kid,’ Red praised.

  The lawman was about to smile when he heard the nerve-shattering noise only grief can muster. Palomino swallowed hard but his throat was dry. There was no spittle. He glanced down at Charlie.

  ‘What in tarnation is that, Kid?’ the old lawman asked.

  ‘I ain’t too sure,’ Palomino answered.

  Then another sound filled the street. It was pounding hoofs as a horse came thundering out of the mist and was being driven straight toward them.

  Kid Palomino stared straight into the eyes of Luke Brand as he got closer and closer. The outlaw was fuelled by rage and grief unlike anything the deputy had ever witnessed before.

  ‘Holy smoke,’ Palomino gasped as he watched the rider lash his long leathers across the tail of his horse and charge away from Carson and his cronies toward the trough.

  Red tried to fire his rifle but its red-hot mechanism jammed. The deputy screamed at Palomino.

  ‘Kill him, Kid,’ Red called out as another volley of bullets bore down on him.

  Charlie poked Palomino in the ribs. ‘You heard him, boy. Kill that varmint before he kills us.’

  The unearthly sound of revenge had burned into Palomino’s mind like a branding iron. He had never heard anything like it before. Brand’s vocal curses echoed around the street. Desperately Palomino raised the rifle to his shoulder again but it was too late.

  Luke Brand suddenly burst through the dust with his six-gun blazing. Obeying its rider’s thrusting spurs, the horse jumped and cleared the water trough. The outstretched hoofs of the outlaw’s mount hit the rifle clean out of Palomino’s hands. The Kid ducked as the hefty horse and rider landed just beyond the startled deputy. Brand dragged his reins back and charged at Palomino. The startled lawman was knocked violently off his feet and careered headlong across the sand as the avenging outlaw fired down from his high perch.

  Palomino came to an abrupt halt when he hit the edge of the boardwalk. He shook the dust from his face and rubbed the blood away from his grazed features. To his horror he watched as the horse cornered and blocked his escape as Brand straddled the gelding and reloaded his smoking six-shooter.

  ‘You’re gonna pay for killing my brother, boy,’ Brand snarled at the dazed young Palomino. ‘Pay with your life.’

  Still unable to see anything but a colourful blur, the old lawman staggered up off the ground beside the trough and squinted hard at the snarling rider. Charlie knew that the Kid was in trouble and needed help.

  ‘Quit yelling like a dried-up old schoolmarm,’ the veteran shouted as his hand found his holstered old six-shooter and pulled it clear. ‘If’n you wanna shout at someone, shout at me.’

  Luke Brand pushed the reloaded cylinder back into the heart of the smoking gun and secured it. His eyes glanced back at the intrepid old man as Charlie pulled on his trigger and unleashed a rod of deafening flame.

  The bullet passed well over the horseman’s head.

  ‘That was your last mistake, old man.’ Brand’s thumb pulled back on his hammer and then aimed his .45 at Charlie. He fired and watched as the skinny remnant of a once sturdy lawman staggered and fell backward. A wave of water lashed over the sides of the trough as the old man sank into its shallow depths.

  The water in the trough turned a sickening shade of scarlet. Only bubbles escaped the watery tomb.

  It seemed like an eternity to the bruised and battered Palomino but it had been less than sixty seconds since Brand’s horse had leapt over the trough and crashed into him. The dust still hung in the bright sunshine as it had not had time to settle.

  Blood trickled from Palomino’s mouth as it slowly dawned on his dazed mind what had just happened. His attempts to get up off the sand were futile as Brand’s horse crashed into his already bloodied body. No matter how desperately he attempted to get back on to his feet, the outlaw denied him. The sturdy quarter horse lowered its head and knocked Palomino off his feet again.

  Palomino glanced at the trough. The old lawman was nowhere to be seen. Then he recalled the shot and sound of splashing and realized where his cantankerous pal was.

  ‘Charlie,’ the Kid called out. There was no reply.

  With blood running from his nose and mouth, Palomino attempted to find his pair of match six-shooters. The horse was unwilling for its master’s prey to succeed. The Kid raised his arms to shield himself from further injury as the powerful horse reared up and lashed out with its hoofs. Every instinct in Palomino’s soul wanted to fight but he was reduced to merely defending his already battered body.

  The young deputy was forced into a huddle as his hands searched for his guns. Then the snorting horse lowered its head and butted him. He coughed and spat blood at the sand as he tried to escape the continuous attack.

  The sound of haunting laughter rained down on him. He glanced up at the face of Luke Brand. The horseman was determined to make him pay for killing his brother and Palomino knew that his death would not be swift. Brand intended to draw every scrap of life from his victim before he finally killed him.

  The Kid managed to force himself up to his feet but his victory was short-lived. Brand drove his spurs into the flanks of his horse and the animal charged into Palomino. The deputy crashed down against the rim of the boardwalk. He fell on to his face and gasped for air as the devilish Luke Brand levelled his weapon at him.

  ‘You ready to die, star-packer?’ Brand’s words dragged the Kid back into consciousness. He stared up with glazed eyes at the horseman as Brand added, ‘Are you busted up enough?’

  ‘I’ve had worse,’ Palomino lied as he felt the horse’s breath on his grazed face. His mind raced to find a way to turn the tables on the outlaw. No matter how hard he searched for a solution, all he could do was stare into the gun barrel trained on him.

  No cat had ever tormented a mouse quite as much as Brand mocked Palomino. All thoughts of avenging his brother had vanished from the outlaw’s mind. Now Luke Brand was content to keep torturing his helpless victim to the very last drop of the deputy’s blood.

  ‘I’ve got me six bullets in this hog-leg, boy,’ Brand snarled. ‘I reckon I’ll use every damn one of them before finishing you off.’

  Kid Palomino had been in quite a few tough scrapes in his life but none of them like this. His eyes narrowed and stared up at the face of the horseman as he heard the hammer being locked into position once more.

  ‘That’s fine with me,’ Palomino sighed heavily.

  ‘Say your prayers, star-packer,’ Brand growled as his finger curled around his trigger and aimed down at his trapped prey. ‘This is for killing my brother Amos.’

  Once again time appeared to have come
to a standstill as the Kid stared up at the still-smoking gun barrel that was aimed at his head. His hand wiped the blood from his face and defiantly looked at the man who intended to be his executioner.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t wanna get a tad closer to me?’ Kid Palomino forced a pained laugh. ‘I’d hate for you to miss.’

  Brand’s expression changed as a storm fermented inside his ruthless guts. His hand was shaking with rage.

  ‘I’ll wipe that smile off your face with lead.’

  ‘Shoot then,’ Palomino spat. ‘I ain’t scared.’

  A gruesome smile etched the outlaw’s face as he leaned his bulk over the neck of his horse.

  ‘Anything to oblige,’ Brand hissed.

  A thunderous shot echoed along the street.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The sound of a shot rang out in the street and echoed off the surrounding structures. Palomino had gritted his teeth as he awaited death, yet death did not visit the young deputy. The Grim Reaper had chosen another target for his inevitable wrath. The startled Kid watched as the outlaw arched on his saddle and gave a sickening grunt.

  The gun curled on his finger and hung for a few moments as the sound of the solitary shot resonated in the Kid’s ears. Then it fell from Brand’s trigger finger and landed upon the churned-up sand as the brutalized horse backed away from Palomino.

  Confusion filled the deputy’s mind. He watched as the outlaw rocked on his saddle. Palomino steadied himself and stared at the outlaw. Brand’s expression was one he had seen many times during his life as a lawman. It was the look only death can paint upon a face.

  Hollow eyes looked down with unseeing bewilderment at the bullet hole in his chest. Blood squirted from the devilishly accurate wound in the middle of his chest as Brand slowly slid off his high-shouldered mount. The outlaw hit the ground yet one of his boots remained hooked in the stirrup. The skittish horse cantered down the street, dragging Brand beside it until the boot finally was pulled from the foot.