Part 21
JD actually heard the jail heave a pitiful groan as a large portion of the wall facing the street exploded. The force rocked him off his feet and sent him staggering into the cell holding John Nichols. He looked back to see his prisoner roll himself off the cot and onto the floor.
“They’re here!” John shouted as he wriggled his way towards the front of the cell.
JD eyed the young man as if he had lost his mind. “Get down, you idiot!”
“My brothers are here to get me out!”
“If this is how they’re tryin’ to save you it’s a danged fool way to go about it! They could’ve killed us both!”
John pushed against the bars. “No, no, it was Luke who set that blast; he’s the best I’ve ever seen with dynamite!”
Oh great, JD thought, they’re coming at us with explosives now. The ceiling overhead creaked. “You better hope they don’t try that again. One more explosion and that roof’s liable to cave in.”
“On you maybe. I’m thinking these bars’ll protect me just fine.”
Sliding himself along the bars, out of John’s reach, JD replied, “Are you willin’ to bet your life on it? Better yet, are they?” He stared at the large hole at the front of the office, hefted the two guns he held and waited for the Nichols gang to come charging in.
“My brothers will do whatever it takes to free me.”
“Are they plannin’ on doin’ it in this life or wait until they send you into the next?”
“You’re talking out your ass, lawman,” John spat out sarcastically. “I told you before, they’re my blood. They wouldn’t risk my life…”
Another explosion shook the building, this time blowing a large section from the back of the jail. JD’s prediction came true -- one of the large support beams slid sideways and several heavy planks of wood fell from above. He crossed his arms and buried his head beneath them but the move wasn’t enough to stop the boards sending him to the floor in a heap. The heavy beam which had been blown out of place shifted again and tumbled down on top of him.
John was thrown to the far corner of his cell, and although nothing fell from above, several chunks of debris were blown in his direction. Splintered wood and sizeable pieces of stone struck him hard across his back and shoulders. He could do little to protect his injured arms except turn away, huddle against the bars and wait for the dust to settle. The pain in his arms was the first thing to strike him when the numbing effects of terror wore off. He realized he was actually lying on his broken limbs and quickly rolled himself into a sitting position. Heaving in several smoke-filled breaths, it took a moment for him to notice the grunting coming from beneath the large pile to his right. “You still here, lawman?” he choked out.
Several curses could be heard before an answer came. “Sorry to disappoint you, Nichols, but yeah, I’m still here.” JD managed to raise himself enough to look over the beam pinning his legs to the floor. Surprisingly, they didn’t hurt, but the pressure bearing down on them was rapidly becoming uncomfortable.
“I’m not disappointed at all,” John huffed, “I want you to be around to see my rescue.” He motioned towards the back wall.
Dunne looked at the back of the jail and saw the second explosion had created another hole. It was a fairly large opening that spanned six feet on the outside of the cell and another two feet on the inside. It was too high for John to reach on his own with two broken arms, but it was large enough for someone to eventually crawl inside and help him. It was obvious that was what Nichols was hoping for. JD knew it was the last thing he could allow and pushed at the beam crossing his knees with every bit of strength he could muster.
“John!” someone called from behind the jail. “John, you alright in there?”
The young man struggled to gain his feet. “Peter?” He made it up and staggered to the opposite corner of the cell. If he stood close enough to the bars, the hole on the other side was low enough to see into the alley. “Is that you?”
His brother’s face came into view. “It’s me. You alright?”
“I’m good, just ready to leave this rat hole.”
The older Nichols straightened his shoulders and announced, “Well, you’re going to have to hang on just a while longer.”
“What? No, come on, get me out of here.”
Shouting voices sounded in the distance and JD again elbowed the weight across his lap. Peter Nichols, the man who had whipped Ezra, was standing within twenty feet of him and he wanted more than anything to catch the bastard before he slipped away. He looked for his guns but as luck would have it they were lying halfway across the room.
“We’ve got a job to do,” Peter said firmly, “so you’re going to have to wait ‘til we come back for you.”
“No, you can’t,” John whined.
Luke Nichols appeared in the opening. “Maybe we should try to get him out now,” he said.
John saw him and quickly agreed. “Yes, Luke’s right. Get me out.”
The shouts in the distance were getting closer.
“No, there’s no time, you know what Ma said,” Peter insisted. “Let’s go.”
John’s eyes grew wide with disbelief as his kin walked away. “What’re you doing?”
“We’ll be back for you,” Peter said calmly.
“No, don’t leave me!”
Luke stared at John’s face with a flicker of concern before he asked Peter, “Are we really going leave him there?”
“Ma gave us our orders. He’s safe enough where he is for now. We’ll come back for him later.”
“But that sheriff from Eagle Bend is supposed to be coming for him.”
“I know that. Look, Ma made herself clear and I’m seeing she was right. We have a job to do and there’s no way to do it if we’re babysitting John in the condition he’s in.”
The large man tilted his head, not entirely convinced. “What about the condition you’re in?” He pointed to Peter’s leg.
“My leg’s fine; Larabee’s bullet didn’t do any real damage.”
“I don’t know, Peter, leaving him doesn’t seem right.”
“Luke, we’re not even supposed to be here. Ma warned us about trying this too soon, and I have to admit it wasn’t the best idea you and I ever came up with to use this as a way to keep those lawmen busy. We’ll get him later. Don’t worry about it. Ma hasn’t steered us wrong yet, has she?”
Luke pondered a moment longer then nodded his agreement.
“No!” John yelled when he realized he was being abandoned.
“Someone’s coming, we have to go,” Peter said, dusting himself off. He gave his younger sibling a casual wave before he turned his back and hurried away.
“No!”
Luke merely shrugged and followed Peter down the alley.
“No!” John cried again.
JD tried again to push the beam aside when he saw the two men were getting away, but there was simply no moving the weight on his own. He slammed a fist to the floor in frustration then watched as John fell against the wall and slid to the floor. “Nice brothers you’ve got there,” he remarked snidely.
Nichols raised his chin but didn’t comment.
“Seems like that whole ‘blood’ thing you were counting on didn’t really work out for ya, did it?”
John opened his mouth to argue but quickly shut it when it dawned on him he didn’t actually know what to say. The arrogant chin lowered to his chest and for a brief moment he felt something he had rarely known before -- fear.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
Nathan leaned back in the chair he had dragged next to the cot. He’d managed to finish stitching the gaping hole in Chris’ stomach and was just wiping his hands on a wet cloth when he got the distinct feeling he was being watched. He twisted around to look at the bed in the middle of the room and saw two green eyes trying to focus on him. The healer slowly realized he was seeing two green eyes instead of one. The swelling in the gambler’s face had gone down so slowly he hadn’t really noticed it until it was nearly half gone. Walking to the bed and leaning over his patient, he called in a gentle voice, “Ezra? Are you awake?”
Ezra’s eyelids blinked but his mouth remained still.
“It’s alright, you don’t have to talk.” He brought a hand to the fevered face and reached for the recently brewed tea on the bedside table. He placed the cup to the Southerner’s lips and waited for them to part. When he didn’t move to drink, Nathan slid a hand beneath his chin, raised it up and nudged the cup closer. On some level his weary brain understood the movement and his mouth opened. It was probably the messiest attempt at drinking the healer had ever seen him make, with half the tea dribbling onto the pillow when he couldn’t properly coordinate a swallow, but Nathan was nothing if not patient. “That’s good, just take it slow,” he said encouragingly until the cup was finally drained. He let go Ezra’s chin and gave him time to catch his breath before he pulled the sheet to his waist to check his bandages and sling. Once he deemed everything secure he moved to check his bruised face. The swelling had indeed lessened, but the purple mottling had darkened so severely it gave him an even more frightening appearance. Nathan looked into weary, green eyes. Although they were still a bit glassy he did notice movement in them as they slowly surveyed the room. “Can you hear me?” he asked, wondering if the Southerner was more aware than he first thought.
Ezra frowned.
Nathan wasn’t sure if it was in response to his question or if he was simply finding it difficult to get his bearings, but it was a reaction nonetheless and it gave the healer hope. “You’re at the clinic.” He waited for the information to sink in. “You’re a little worse for wear, but you’re gonna be fine.”
The survey of the room continued.
“Ezra?” He touched the side of his friend’s head and suddenly the wandering eyes turned on him, revealing an intense, not completely unexpected, combination of anger and terror. Nathan remained calm and left his hand where it lay. “Take it easy now.”
The gambler squinted and tried to focus, and although his eyes were still glazed, eventually found the healer’s face. He made several attempts to speak before he managed to whisper, “Nathan?”
Jackson grinned. “Yeah, it’s me. How’re ya doin’?”
The frown returned. “Hurt.”
“I know. I just gave you somethin’ that should help.”
The look on his face clearly revealed he didn’t remember drinking one of Nathan’s teas. He shifted as if he wanted to sit up but was caught short when a sharp pain doubled him over.
“No, no, don’t be movin’ now,” Nathan warned. “You need to lie still.”
“I can’t…”
“You ain’t got much choice. Your body’s been through too much.”
The gambler tried to push Nathan away but couldn’t manage it with his limbs pinned. He looked down on himself to find one arm wrapped in a sling and the other twisted in a sheet. A spark of memory sent cold dread into his chest. “Oh God,” he moaned. “They did it… Nathan…”
Jackson knew exactly what he was thinking. “No, Ezra, wait. They didn’t take them.”
“But I can’t feel,” he swallowed hard, “I can’t feel them!”
“It’s alright. Your hands are still there.” Nathan glanced down and saw the knotted sheet. He pulled away long enough to unwrap the cloth from his arm and raise the hand for him to see. “They cut your wrist, but they didn’t take your hands.”
Uncertain eyes darted to the sling.
“Your shoulder got dislocated when the Nichols had you, so I put the sling on to keep you from hurtin’ it in your sleep.” He rolled the edge of the sling back to reveal the lost hand. “See, they’re still there.”
“They told me…” He gagged on his panic.
“They didn’t do it,” the healer replied emphatically. “Lord knows they hurt you bad, but they didn’t cut your hands off.”
Standish’s chest heaved out of control a minute longer before his head dropped forward in undeniable relief.
“Just try to calm down.”
“I don’t understand,” he gasped. “How?”
“You don’t need to think on it right now,” Nathan said evenly, trying to draw Ezra back from the memory of the Nichols.
“My h-hands or his life…”
“Ezra.”
Fever-bright eyes turned away and fell on a shadow across the room. “Oh God,” he said with such sorrow it made Jackson turn and look. “No, no, no,” he repeated as he slowly pulled away.
Nathan saw what caught the gambler’s attention -- Chris Larabee, as pale as ghost, a large bloody wound in his abdomen, lying as still as death. Damn, he thought and silently kicked himself for not bandaging the gunfighter’s injury right away. “Ezra, listen to me,” Jackson said, but his friend wasn’t hearing him.
“I’ve killed him,” Ezra muttered, staring at his numb fingers with alarm.
“No.”
“I don’t understand. I chose… but it wasn’t what they wanted to hear,” he cried. “They kept coming back. They wouldn’t stop.”
“Stop what, Ezra?”
“They said I had to decide.” He looked to the cot again. “I did.”
“Easy now.”
“No… my hands or Chris’ life… they made me choose.” He tore his eyes from the lifeless body. “I did. He shouldn’t be dead, Nathan. He shouldn’t be dead.”
Jackson’s mouth fell open when he realized what he was saying – Chris shouldn’t be dead because Ezra decided to let those butchers slice off his hands rather than give up a friend. Nathan felt his stomach turn.
“Something’s wrong… I must’ve told them… I killed him,” the gambler choked out.
“No, Ezra, you have to listen to me. Chris ain't dead. I just gave him somethin' to make him sleep,” he said wishing more than anything he hadn’t. “I swear to ya he’s just asleep.”
“I don’t remember telling them… I don’t remember…” The gambler drew his free hand to his chest and rolled deeper into the pillow.
Nathan tried again and again to persuade him he hadn’t betrayed their friend but there was no getting through to him. He would have to wait for Chris to wake up before he would be able to convince the delusional gambler of anything. Fortunately from the sound of Larabee’s irregular breathing and quiet groaning that wouldn’t be too much longer. Unfortunately, Chris waking up earlier than expected meant he had very little time to finish tending his injury. He patted the back of the gambler’s head and rose from the bed. “You rest now and let that medicine I gave you work.”
He headed towards the supply cabinet, gathered the last of his prepared bandages and was about to search the parcel Buck had opened earlier when a loud crash at the door turned him around. A dark figure rushed him, knocked him off his feet and sent him sideways into the foot of the bed. More from instinct than conscious choice, he made a grab for the holster he’d left hanging on the post. Regrettably he received a boot to the back before he could actually pull his gun.
“I see you’ve been a busy man, healer,” someone said.
Large hands gripped his shirt and spun him around to see Peter Nichols looming at the doorway.
“Yeah,” added the man who tackled him, “It looks like he’s been doctoring these two real good.”
“Well now that’s a real shame,” Peter replied, “It’s such a waste to put so much time and effort into saving men who’re already as good as dead.”
Nathan felt a shiver run through him just before something hard smashed against his skull.
Part 22
“Vin, get outta there!” Sanchez shouted as he hefted another bucket and spread its contents over the flames consuming the Clarion.
“Just a little more, Josiah,” Vin answered hoarsely.
“No, no more. It’s time for us to leave!” The preacher looked up. Although they had managed to slow the fire’s progress towards the back of the newspaper office, they hadn’t been able to stop it finding a new path to travel.
“I think I can work my way ‘round. Keep that water comin’!”
The smoke was so thick Josiah could barely see. “The fire’s climbed its way into the rafters!”
Tanner stubbornly made his way deeper into the office and disappeared.
“Vin, we gotta go!” He waited but the tracker didn’t answer. “Vin!” Fearing the worst, he ran to the water bearer near the door, grabbed the bucket he was offered and rushed to where he’d last seen Vin standing. “You better answer me, son, or I’m comin’ in after ya!” His heart beat hard in his chest as he prepared to enter the dense smoke. Just as he drew the bucket back to toss the water, he heard a hacking cough.
“I’m here,” Vin choked out, then stumbled forward, rubbing watery eyes.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just hard to see. You’re right about the flames; we need to stop ‘em reachin’ the roof.”
Josiah took his arm and pulled him toward the door. “Come on. Let’s clean those eyes out.”
Vin didn’t protest as he was guided from the building and leaned over a bucket of clean water.
“Mr. Tanner, Mr. Sanchez!”
Both men turned to see Archie run from the bathhouse.
“Mr. Tanner, there’s been an explosion!”
Vin wiped the water from his face. “An explosion? I didn’t hear anything.”
“It happened while you were inside. It was probably too noisy in there to hear anything. A couple of men have already gone to take a look.”
“Where?”
“At the jail. You’d best hurry; it’s most likely those men you’re lookin’ for.”
“Damn it! Will you take over here?”
“You know I will. Just be careful. We don’t wanna see any more of you boys gettin’ hurt.”
“Thanks, Archie,” Vin replied and ran with Josiah towards the jail.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
Peter stepped over Nathan’s unconscious body on his way to the bed in the middle of the room. He bent close to Ezra and whispered, “I told you you’d never get away from me,” but the gambler was beyond hearing. Lying on his side, fist twisted once again in the sheet, he stared blindly as his shattered mind tried to comprehend what had happened.
“Hey,” Luke said, “Look at this. It seems our little spy was telling the truth. Larabee was hurt back at the hotel. It looks like he took a bullet to the stomach.”
Peter scowled at Ezra before he left the bed. “Good. It’ll make our job a lot easier.” He stepped close to the cot. “Ma wants him dead… so do I.”
Luke drew his gun and aimed it at Chris.
“No, wait,” Peter said and pushed the gun away.
The gunfighter groaned. His eyelids came open for just an instant then closed despite his best efforts to keep them open. Another moan and his hands twitched restlessly at his side.
“He’s coming ‘round.”
“Well then let’s just shoot ‘em both and get out of here,” Luke said.
“Nobody’s shooting him,” Peter replied, pointing at Ezra, “he’s going with us.”
“What’re you talking about? Why would you want to take him outta here?”
“We have unfinished business.”
“Listen, ma didn’t saying anything about kidnapping that gambler.”
Peter narrowed his eyes. “I’m sayin’.”
Luke shook his head but knew better than to argue. “Okay, so we haul him outta here. What about this one?”
“I think we should give Mr. Larabee here a little taste of the hereafter.”
Luke caught the glint in his brother’s eye and smiled. “Well now I reckon it’ll have to be a mite warmer in here for that.”
Peter eyed the lantern. “Yes, but we wouldn’t want him to miss anything.” He stepped closer to the cot and struck the gunfighter hard across the face. “Time to wake up, Larabee!”
Chris’ drug-induced stupor slowed his reflexes but his twitching hands instinctively came up to protect his face.
The younger of the Nichols leaned around Peter to get a better look. “I don’t think you’re getting through to him.”
“Then I’ll just have to try harder,” Peter replied as he reached for the rifle Nathan had propped against the back wall.
“I thought you didn’t wanna shoot him.”
“I don’t.” He raised the weapon over the cot, aimed the stock at Chris’ bullet wound and hammered it home. The action had the desired effect; the semi-conscious man bolted upright and came awake with a howl of pain that satisfied Peter to the core.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
JD fell back to the floor and pounded his fists against the heavy beam across his legs. He had pushed until he simply couldn’t push anymore. He wiggled and squirmed but still couldn’t pull himself free. The weight on top of him felt as if it had tripled in the past few minutes and a serious ache was beginning to replace the numbness in his legs. “Damn it,” he swore as he twisted at the waist to search for something he could use as a lever. There was nothing, absolutely nothing within his reach. He would have to wait for help, but how long would that take? How long before…
“JD!” He heard shouted from the street. It was Buck.
“I’m here,” he cried, “back here!” He craned his neck around and saw long legs climb over the debris to reach him.
Wilmington hurried to his side. “JD, are you alright?” He ran a hand over the young man’s head.
“I’m okay. I just need to get this danged pile of wood off of me. I tried to move the beam, but I think something’s holding it in place.”
“Is anything broken?”
“I don’t think so. My legs feel kind of funny, but it’s more like pins and needles.”
“This thing’s cut off the circulation,” Buck said, patting the large piece of timber. “Let me check it out.” He did a quick inspection and found JD was right – two big crossbeams straddled the rafter, clamping it to the floor. The other end had driven itself into the softer wood of the walls. The best approach would be to free the lower end, but he’d have to be careful.
“How’s it look?” Dunne asked with a grunt.
“Not too bad. I’ll have you outta there in no time.”
JD raised himself and caught the look of doubt on Buck’s face. “Yeah? You and what army?” he asked nervously.
“Will we do?”
Buck drew his gun but quickly lowered it when he saw Vin and Josiah enter the room. “Perfect timing,” he answered, greatly relieved to see the two men.
Josiah helped Buck loosen the end of the rafter pinned to the floor while Vin sheltered the young sheriff from falling rubble loosened by the removal of the crossbeams. Once the heavy timber was hefted a few inches it was a simple matter of sliding JD clear. Vin settled him against the wall and carefully examined his legs. Aside from a few scratches and bruises, they appeared to be unharmed. “You look okay,” he announced.
“That was close,” Dunne said just loud enough for the tracker to hear.
Vin felt him shake and put a reassuring hand on his arm when he noticed JD was fast losing the rush of adrenaline he’d used to survive the attack. “It’s okay, you’re alright.”
Dunne swallowed hard and looked at Vin in astonishment. “They’re crazy!”
“JD?” Tanner felt a hard shudder beneath his palm.
“Who the hell blows up a jail with their brother inside? They didn’t know where he was, they just started blasting!”
Wilmington moved fast to squat next to his friend. “Take it easy, JD.”
“No, you don’t understand.”
“I do understand. You just had the life scared outta ya!” He took hold of the young man’s fisted hand but JD snatched it away.
“Buck, stop it and listen to me. The Nichols aren’t just mean and evil… they’re insane!” He looked back and forth between his fellow lawmen. “How the hell do you fight something like that? How do you stop people who are absolutely out of their minds?” He waited for an answer. Several panicked breaths later, he was still waiting.
Part 23
The hurt was so great in Chris’ belly he believed he’d been impaled. He tried to pitch himself sideways, to clamber towards his assailant as if he could scramble past, but a hand grabbed him by the throat and shoved him back.
“Stay down,” someone snarled.
His deadened fingers dug at the unbearable pain and for a moment he gave thought to surrendering himself to the growing blackness skirting his vision. Then his lungs began to burn, and the blackness grew and a panic like no other filled his heart. He desperately needed to breathe but the hand squeezing his larynx was literally choking him to death.
“You plannin’ on strangling him now?” He heard someone else ask.
The grip loosened. It didn’t let go, but it did allow him to draw a breath. He sucked greedily at the air and tried to regain his senses but his mind was as cut off from understanding as his lungs had been from air. He wanted to speak, to ask what was going on, but his mouth was too numb to form the words.
“No, strangling is too easy. I want him to really know what it means to cross the Nichols family.”
The Nichols? Chris recognized Peter’s voice and his heart pounded harder.
“Well, do whatever it is you’re gonna do and let’s go! Someone had to have heard him hollering.”
Little by little, the gunfighter’s brain began to sort itself out. One memory came then another and another in a downpour of events, but his drug sodden mind was slow to keep up. It took him a while to understand where he was and why, but what he couldn’t figure out, no matter how hard he tried, was how Peter had been able to lay hands on him. Then he remembered Ezra. He groped at the fingers around his throat and called the gambler's name with a gasp.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t waste the last few minutes of my life worrying over the likes of him.”
Chris’ eyes came open, revealing the one face he loathed more than any other.
“Standish was the catalyst in my brothers’ destruction and interfered in something that didn’t concern him. He’ll be coming with me.”
“N-no.” Chris tried to rise but his effort was rewarded with an increase of pressure around his neck. “Let him… go.”
“You don’t get to plead for his life.” Peter released the tightened throat, straightened and jabbed Chris again with the rifle butt.
Another cry filled the air. This time the gunfighter came off the cot and dropped to the floor.
“Damn it, Peter, are you tryin’ to get us caught? Let’s go!” Luke yelled.
Peter watched his victim coil at his feet. “Alright,” he replied, “pick up Standish and let’s head out.”
Luke went to the bed and pulled back the sheet. “Ma ain’t going to like this,” he complained as he gawked at the motionless body.
“Just do it!”
“He’s got no clothes on!”
Peter smirked when he imagined the naked gambler being thrown at his mother’s feet. “Don’t be stupid! Just wrap him up and get a move on!”
Luke waved his hands in the air. “Now you’re in a hurry!”
“Just shut up and do as I say,” Peter barked. He reached for the lantern on the bedside table as Ezra was again covered with the sheet, brutally yanked off the bed and tossed across Luke’s shoulder.
Larabee pushed himself onto his back when he heard Ezra cry out. The gambler was being taken away, and although Chris still suffered the debilitating effects of Nathan’s drugs he had enough presence of mind to know what horrors lay ahead for him if the Nichols escaped the clinic. “No…” he rasped, “leave him be.”
Peter crouched beside him, resting the light on the floor. “I told you, you don’t get to beg for his life. You and Standish will both pay the same price as Hank Connelly for killing my brothers.”
“You hurt him… again… you’re dead,” Chris said dangerously despite the grimace of pain on his face.
Nichols ignored him as he increased the flame in the lamp.
“Hear me… you son-of-a-bitch… you’re dead!”
“I hardly think you’re in a position to make threats.”
“I will kill you.” Chris tried to roll and push himself onto an elbow.
Peter rose and took a step back. “By all means you’re welcome to try. I want you to snap out of this fog you’re in. I want you conscious and fully aware of just how truly screwed you are. In fact, I’ll help you.” He drew a foot back and kicked the gunfighter hard in the ribs.
Chris gagged. He tried to protect himself by pulling his knees up and folding his arms around his middle but Nichols simply came at him from behind and booted him in the back. The blows weren’t strong enough to cause serious damage, but they were exactly enough to gain his attention. His eyes went wide with pain when he was pulled to his back and fisted again across the face.
“It’s all over for you but the dying,” Peter said. “Enjoy your trip to hell!” He retrieved the lantern from the floor and threw it against the wall.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
Buck’s placating tone did little to calm JD. When the young man pushed his hands aside for the second time, Vin interceded by placing his own hand on Dunne’s arm. “Settle down,” he said firmly, “we need to talk about what happened. Did you see or hear anything before the explosions?”
JD, obviously irritated and still visibly shaken, took a deep breath before he answered. “Not before the roof fell in. Afterwards I saw the oldest Nichols through the hole in the back wall. I could tell he had someone with him, but I couldn’t see who it was or hear what they were sayin’. I don’t think he could see me. If he did, he didn’t seem interested.” He stopped.
Josiah saw a look of uncertainty spread across his face. “What is it, son?”
“The Nichols, they blasted the front of the office first, then blew out the back wall. I thought for sure they were tryin’ a jail break.”
“It looks to me like they didn’t try very hard. They left their little brother behind,” Buck observed.
“That’s just it. They didn’t try at all.”
“After they went to all that trouble, they didn’t try to free him?”
“No, Buck, they just took off and left him behind.”
“That don’t make a lot o’ sense, does it.”
Vin raised himself from the floor and saw Dunne try to follow. “Take another minute to get your wind back, JD.”
“No, I’m good. We need to see about getting this place put back together. I still got a prisoner needs watchin’.”
Tanner glanced back at the unusually silent John Nichols. “JD,” he called softly, “how’d our boy take it when his brothers left him?”
“He seemed surprised, like he really expected them to stick around and dig him out.”
“Like they’ve probably always done in the past.”
“Yeah, I don’t think this was the first time he or one of his brother’s has been locked up. But you know, Vin, he’d be a lot harder to get outta here seein’ as he’s got two broke arms. Maybe they just didn’t want to hurt him pulling him out that hole in the wall.”
“That or they didn’t wanna be bothered.” Vin walked over to the cell and leaned on its bars. “You look like you’ve lost your best friend there, pard.”
John raised his face. “I ain’t worried.”
“You might oughta be. That prison wagon’ll be here soon and it looks for now like you’ll be headin’ back to Eagle Bend alone to face charges.”
“I ain’t going anywhere in a prison wagon. My brothers will be back for me.”
“Somehow I doubt it. It looks to me like they’ve decided to cut their losses where you’re concerned.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Am I? They missed their one an only shot at gettin’ you outta here. They should’ve taken it ‘cause I swear to you, they won’t get another.” John grew a brave face but Vin could see the doubt in his eyes. “You might wanna start thinkin’ how you can save your own skin and quit banking on your big brothers doin’ it for ya.”
Josiah joined Tanner. “He’s right, son. From the wire I got from Judge Travis I understand you boys stirred up quite the hornets’ nest in Eagle Bend. When the law there gets their hands on you, I doubt they’re gonna bother with a long trial and lengthy prison stay. I’d say they’re plannin’ on introducing you to a rope real soon.”
“Nobody’s hanging me,” Nichols replied.
“Three prominent citizens are dead,” Josiah said. “There are eye-witnesses who say your family is responsible. I’d say someone’s gonna hang.”
John shuffled around to face the wall.
“You were with your brothers when those men were killed, weren’t you?” Vin asked. “You didn’t try to stop them.”
“Nobody stops my brothers,” the youth mumbled.
“Maybe not then,” Josiah said, “but how about now?”
“What’re you saying?”
“I’m sayin’ you can turn your brothers in, make them pay for what they did. You bein’ so young, you might have a chance of makin’ the authorities believe you had no part in those killings.”
John’s back shuddered and his breathing hitched.
The preacher stepped closer to the cell, feeling encouraged by the boy’s display of emotion. “You have to speak up, son, and tell the truth. Tell the sheriff you didn’t kill those men.”
John turned around. “And what exactly makes you think I didn’t?” he asked with eyes so cold they could have frozen the heart of the most forgiving saint.
Josiah’s hopes sank when he realized what he’d believed to be sobs of regret were actually hiccups of laughter.
PARTS 1-4 / PARTS 5-7 / PARTS 8-10 / PARTS 11-13 / PARTS 14-16 / PARTS 17-18 / PARTS 19-20 / PARTS 24-26 / PARTS 27-28 / PARTS 29-30 / PARTS 31-32 / PART 33 / PART 34
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