Chapter 12

Soft morning sunlight filtered past the rooftops of the town as Jake Mueller stood outside the jailhouse. Argenta was silent except for the methodical creaking of the boarding house sign suspended above the walkway. He leaned on the railing and scrubbed a hand over his moustache and chin. The wreckages of the saloon and mercantile looked vividly out of place with the rest of the buildings. Shaking his head at the sight before him, he wondered briefly if he could have stopped Jimmy's rampage. It didn't matter now, since the destruction, along with the capture of the ranch hand, had both served a purpose. McIntyre would be riding into town today-he'd put money on it.

It would have all been so much simpler if Tim had gone along with his plans, but the rancher wouldn't hear of it. Instead, McIntyre had tried to rally the townspeople against him, albeit without much luck. He'd give Tim high marks for tenacity but it was high time that he quit his foolishness. There was only one way to do it, either Tim would acquiesce to his demands, or he would help drive the railhead directly through their parlor using the guns that he had hired. Red Mangus should help in that endeavor. Mangus had surprised him from that very first meeting in the saloon and it still chafed that he couldn't figure the man out. Sighing a bit, he turned his thoughts back to McIntyre.

Yes, Tim would be riding into town all right, Armed to the teeth no doubt, with the Lancer brothers following behind for good measure. There wouldn't be too many other ranchers in the area that would go along with him; McIntyre would only be able to count on a few at the very most. And he would be ready for them. He looked down the empty street for a few more moments then turned to enter the sheriff's office.

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It was a solemn and silent trip to town for the most part, punctuated only by the rhythmic sound of walking horses. Each man was lost in his own thoughts, pondering what might happen when they reached Argenta. The small group made its way to the town's outskirts, halted and re-checked their weapons. In the distance, they could see the jailhouse and the main street, devoid of any activity. Tim gave a slap to the reins and pushed his horse into a gallop. Seven ranch hands followed suit.

Staying his mount, Johnny surveyed the town that lay before him and pulled on the stampede strings of his hat.

Scott eased his horse alongside Barranca. "What is it?"

"There's bound to be some fireworks today; my advice would be to stay away from Mangus."

"And what will you be doing?"

He flashed a grin. "I'll be stayin' away, too, brother."

Scott and Johnny caught up with Tim and his men as they were tying off their mounts just shy of the jailhouse. They had dismounted when Johnny nudged Scott's elbow and tipped his head towards the Let'er Buck, a few store fronts down. The plate glass window had been broken out and a few shards of glass were strewn about the boardwalk. Where the fire had licked the front of the saloon black trails of soot and ash stood in stark contrast to the whitewash of the surrounding buildings. Scott started down the boardwalk towards the saloon but was stopped by his brother's hand on his arm.

Johnny motioned towards the jail. "Better leave it; we've got bigger trouble coming."

Mueller, followed by a dour Mangus, had come outside to stand in front of the jailhouse. The sheriff and two other men came out from the jail and took positions on either side of the slim building, rifles held across their forearms.

Muller yelled out, "You're through here Tim; pack up and leave before it's too late. It would have been good to have you as a partner in all this but the only place for you now is out of this town."

Tim walked to the middle of the street. "You're a fool Jake, if you believe that the state of California will let you ride herd on Argenta for much longer. We've already sent wires to the government for help."

"Have you Tim?" He pointed to the corner of the street where Jimmy, mounted up on a big roan, was leading another horse with a man tied to the saddle. It was Sandy; he'd been beaten beyond recognition, and could barely keep his head off the horse's neck. At his father's nod, Jimmy led him a few steps towards McIntyre and flashed a knife, cutting the ropes encircling Sandy's hands. The cowhand was pushed off the horse and landed in the dirt, unconscious. "I don't like doing this, Tim, but you're forcing my hand."

Two of McIntyre's ranch hands ran out and dragged Sandy to the other side of the street when Jimmy backed away.

Scott stepped closer to Johnny. "Mueller isn't taking any chances, his men are scattered around behind the buildings," he murmured. "Off to the left and there's one around the mercantile." A flash of silver from a window above the burned-out saloon caught his eye. "Make that one or two more in the windows above the saloon. Maybe about nine or ten, including Mueller."

Johnny's eyes were centered on Mangus alone. "I see'em and I'd be willing to bet there may be a couple more around here somewhere."

Mueller yelled out again, "You have to ask yourself Tim, how many more men are you going to lose? And Claire, what will happen to her when you're not around anymore?"

Tim started at the mention of Claire's name and a cowhand restrained him with a heavy hand on the forearm. "Don't Boss, he's looking for an excuse to blow you away. Don't give it to him."

Jimmy suddenly put the spurs to his horse, his pistol spurting fire at McIntyre as the animal leapt forward. Men on both sides scattered to places of safety as Tim crumpled to the street. Scott and Johnny split apart after seeing McIntyre's ranch hand drag Tim underneath a wagon. Jimmy whipped his horse around in the middle of the street, and even from his poor vantage point behind a watering trough, Scott could see enough of Mueller's son to know that he was drawing a bead on Johnny.

Firing quickly, Scott's rifle shot went wide and struck the horse instead. Three shots countered his one, but before he ducked down he had the satisfaction of seeing the roan stumble and fall, taking its rider along with it.

Johnny lunged to the corner of a building as shots spattered around him. A maelstrom was swirling before him, with curses and shouting coming from the middle of it all. The first person in his sights was Jimmy and he watched in slight bewilderment as the boy's horse fell to the ground. He saw Mueller rolling off and scurrying for cover. He'd have Scott to thank for that one. He next turned to the jailhouse, expecting to see the senior Mueller and Mangus, but no one was there. Mueller was a worry but Mangus was more of one and Johnny patiently surveyed each building for signs of either men.

Beyond the shop to the right he saw a shooter moving atop the Let'er Buck's roof. A pistol wouldn't be of any use at this range but Scott's rifle would. He caught his brother's attention and pointed. Scott nodded but was pinned down by fire on two sides. Johnny knew his brother would have to find better protection soon. He yelled out, "I'll cover you!"

Scott sprang to his feet and sprinted for shelter. Bullets whistled past and plowed into the earth beside him, flinging up dirt against his pants leg. He could hear Johnny's echoing report as well as several others from further up the street. Surprisingly, the door to the smithy suddenly opened and he dove for the small entryway. Large hands roughly grabbed him and hauled him upwards.

Scott used the upward momentum to blindly swing out a fist. He felt the solid connection with his opponent's face, and the man was spun away and driven backwards to fall against the flue.

"Scott! For God's sake…stop!" the man bellowed.

"Wha…? Murdoch?! What the hell are you doing here?"

His father held a hand against his reddened cheek. "I figured out that I shouldn't send my sons to do a job that I should be doing." He saw the obvious dishevelment of his son and said with a wry smile, "It looks like you could use some help."

Scott nodded curtly and peered out the door for a moment. He looked back at his father, "We're fighting Jake Mueller."

"I know." At Scott's look of puzzlement, he continued, "I happened to arrive at the saloon just as things got interesting last night. Colette filled me in."

"Colette is all right? And Louise?"

"They're both fine. I was seeing Colette back to the saloon to pick up a few things when I saw your party come into town."

Scott nodded. "Mueller's been trying to bring this town to its knees bit by bit over the last few months. A railroad may be coming through here and he wants the prize all for himself. Tim McIntyre has been the lone holdout but there's a good chance he's dead now; he was shot by Mueller's son."

Rapid gunfire could be heard down the street. "Is Johnny out there?" Murdoch asked.

"Yes, as well as a few of McIntyre's men, or what's left of them anyhow. You didn't happen to bring anyone with you, did you?"

Murdoch shook his head. "No, unfortunately."

Scott checked his rifle. "I'm going back out, Murdoch, Johnny will need help."

#~#~#~#~#

Johnny had seen Scott dive into the smithy shed. He was rewarded a few minutes later by the sound of his brother's rifle, along with a second one, ringing towards the saloon. The man on top of the building was no match for the onslaught and fell to his death a few seconds later. Another man suddenly tumbled out the Let'er Buck's second story window shortly after the first had fallen. Johnny smiled; Colette must be all right after all.

Several of Mueller's hired men remained in the street, hidden in various places, and from time to time Johnny could hear shouts amongst them. Using the side of the building as cover, he crouched with his back against it, mulling over his options. Deciding to try and go behind the shops, he worked his way around until he could stand up and walk out, gun held at the ready.

tbc