Dark Reflection

Chapter 54

"Bad Blood"

by Lilyjack

Author's Note: Sorry for the late posting-I've been juicing this chapter up at the last minute, so you feel like you're right smack dab in the middle of Front Street as a participant in this battle and not just an observer. Only one more chapter after this-almost done! Thank you all for the glowing reviews, letting me know that you are enjoying this tale. That includes the guests to whom I'm unable to respond personally. Hope everyone is staying #HealthyAtHome!

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Matt Dillon commanded his motley group of freedom fighters with a rallying cry, "Open fire!"

Recognizing their unofficial leader's voice, the Dodge City militia instantly followed his order. Blackthorne's army hastily scattered amidst the relentless barrage of gunfire that rained death from both sides of Front Street. Five members of the outlaw gang were immediately struck down, collapsing to the rutted dirt road, either dead or dying.

The remaining bandits hurriedly dropped to their bellies or dove for cover while returning the Dodge citizens' withering fire. Clouds of gray smoke swiftly filled the street with rapid-fire black powder explosions coming from all angles. The continuous fusillade was deafening. Matt could detect his comrades firing from the corner of his eye: Barney, Howie and Dobie darting their heads up over the wagon to fire their pistols, Sam, Horace and Bull resting rifle and shotgun muzzles atop the bed and the wheel, blasting away at their enemies.

Through the noise of gunfire came the sound of glass shattering. Kitty and Ruby joined the fight from within the walls of the jailhouse, shooting their weapons through jagged holes in the broken window glass.

Suddenly, Matt spied Tobias Gunther who'd ducked down behind a watering trough, inching his way toward the wagons where the men were sheltering in front of the jailhouse. Matt didn't have a clear shot at him from here, and it seemed none of his men across the street had spotted Tobias advancing either. The noise of gunfire was too loud for them to hear a shouted warning. Matt dropped open his Colt's cylinder and ejected the spent cartridges, nimbly replacing them with fresh. He resolutely grunted to Chester and Deke, "Cover me…" before sprinting out of the alleyway.

Young Ocie rose from his haunches, anxiously calling, "Mr. Dillon!"

Deke commanded, "Git down, son! Matt knows what he's doin'. Don't git yerself shot. Here, boy, gimme yer gun, and you reload mine. I don't want you shootin' nobody unless you hafta."

"Yessir," Ocie replied, gratefully handing over his pistol, scrambling to reload Deke's weapon.

Lafe Whitcomb advanced to the spot Dillon had vacated to help supply cover fire as his older friend stealthily moved in on Gunther. Lafe murmured worriedly under his breath, "Tobias is a mighty good shot."

Chester spotted a tall, bearded man training his gun on Matt who dove for cover behind several wooden crates. Chester, squinting, aimed his rifle carefully and fired. His bullet hit the bearded man solidly in the right shoulder. The outlaw cried out, dropping his weapon to the ground. Chester smiled grimly, replying, "Yeah, well, so is Mister Dillon. A good shot, I mean."

Gunther scuttled closer to the wagon while Matt desperately tried to work his way into a position where he could take aim. Matt hadn't laid eyes on Blackthorne's brutal lieutenant since the day Gunther and his cohorts had mercilessly beat Matt nearly to death. The memory made his stomach turn, his jaw clench. He attempted to repress the anger that could place him at a disadvantage in a fight. Matt realized he needed a clear head right now above all.

He watched in alarm as Gunther rose up, held down the trigger of his revolver with a beefy finger and fanned the hammer, rapidly emptying his ammunition on the men behind the wagon. Moss clutched his shoulder, grimacing in pain, and Horace Noonan collapsed to the ground. Everyone scattered, Sam and Bill Pence scrambling to drag Horace with them to cover. Tobias quickly began reloading.

Exasperatingly, Matt still could not get a clear shot at the man. Gritting his teeth, he leapt from cover to pounce on Gunther, kicking the gun from his hand. Gunther's eyes bulged as he recognized the man he knew as Jack Mathias standing over him. Gunther sprang to his feet and plowed his massive head into Matt's midsection, sending Matt's gun flying out of his hand.

The wind was nearly knocked out of Matt, but he quickly recovered and smashed his fist into Gunther's ruddy face, making the brawny man stumble backwards, his nose and mouth dripping with blood, staining his dirty blonde mustache, his enraged face. He narrowed his eyes menacingly at Matt before diving for his gun that lay on the boardwalk. Matt hurtled after him, ferociously grappling for the firearm face to face, their muscles straining, expressions contorted, veins distended. The gun exploded between them, smoke filling the air, and Gunther collapsed, gut shot, with a deep groan. His hateful eyes bore into Matt's own, disbelieving, before he closed them one last time, his lifeblood slowly blossoming onto his shirt. Matt clutched both firearms and dove for cover once more as bullets zinged past him.

Meanwhile, Doc rushed from Ma Smalley's boarding house to the street to help Bill Pence and Sam get cousin Horace and Moss Grimmick safely inside. Doc, Ma, Mary, and the other ladies had set up a small triage inside. Harry Botkin stood leaning against the door jamb, a rifle gripped resolutely in his hands, covering for Doc as he hurried to his patient. Abruptly, Bill jerked and groaned when a bullet penetrated his arm. He lost his hold on Horace, his gun tumbling to the ground. Doc instinctively ducked, his eyes darted around, searching for the assailant.

Leaping down agilely from an overhanging balcony, Comanche Dan rushed at them, shouting a blood-curdling war cry. Swiftly, Doc grabbed Bill's rifle by the barrel, swinging the wide, heavy stock fiercely at the Indian outlaw who was grappling with Sam. The bloodied Indian fell but swiftly pulled out a jagged knife, thrusting it at Sam. Sam drew his spare pistol from his holster and fired, killing Dan outright.

Doc breathed a sigh of relief, then directed Sam to help him get the three injured men quickly inside where their wounds could be tended. As Doc and Sam struggled to support Horace between them, a wiry, dark-haired attacker emerged from the alley opposite and levelled his shotgun at the group. But in the doorway of Ma's, Harry Botkin was ready for him. Furrowing his brow, he aimed, fired and shot the outlaw before the man had a chance to pull his own trigger. Doc and the others rushed to Ma's, sweeping past Botkin in the doorway. Doc called grimly over his shoulder, "Thanks, Harry, we owe ya' one."

As Matt hunkered in a doorway, he glanced around him. By his reckoning, there couldn't be too many more of Blackthorne's men left. He was returning the fire of at least one man hiding behind a buggy across the street as Doc retreated into Ma's with the others. Matt could see Chester had skillfully maneuvered into position to take aim at the assailant. With one quick shot from his rifle, the gunfire from behind the buggy ceased.

Everything suddenly became deathly quiet. Matt took a breath, peering around at what appeared to be an empty street and called out, "Alright, you men, you'd better give up! There's not enough of ya' left alive to make it a fair fight!"

No answer. Perhaps they'd fled, he thought, but it was too dangerous yet to emerge and find out.

"You hear me?" he gruffly called again. "You're finished in Dodge!"

Then an eerily familiar voice, deep, raspy and ruined, spoke up in the stillness. The hair on the back of Matt's neck stood on end.

The malevolent voice came from the direction of the jail. "You sure about that, Mathias? Lookie here what I've got…"

Matt's eyes grew wide and his throat constricted. Hastily rising from cover, he ran a few yards down the street towards the jail. Standing in the open doorway, scarred hand pointing a revolver to her head, Silas Blackthorne clutched Kitty Russell tightly, crushing her arms helplessly at her sides in his powerful embrace. The blood in Matt's veins turned to ice water as Kitty struggled against Blackthorne, cursing him vehemently.

"Let her go!" Matt thunderously demanded, his voice raw with emotion. Matt could feel the presence of his comrades all around him. They watched silently from their posts, their hot-barreled guns aimed, ready to act on his word. But Matt was unable to tear his eyes from the gut-wrenching sight before him to spare them a single glance.

Blackthorne forced Kitty to walk into the street, keeping the muzzle of his firearm firmly pressed against her temple. Ruby falteringly staggered to the jailhouse door, out of breath, holding a hand to her own bleeding mouth and nose.

The villain's murmur was low, taunting, his steely eye narrowed as he clutched Kitty more tightly, making her cry out. "What if I don't want to let Miss Russell go, Mathias?"

"I'm gonna kill ya', Blackthorne," Matt bit out hoarsely. His jaw twitched, his hand itched to aim his Colt, but Kitty was too close to his target.

Blackthorne quietly ordered, "I'd drop that gun if I were you." He narrowed a cold, stormy eye at Matt. "If you don't, I'm gonna' blow her brains out." His thumb pulled back the hammer, the ratcheting sound piercing Matt's senses, tightening his chest.

Kitty released an involuntary gasp and her breath quickened, her body trembling. Gaze narrowing, she bit her lip and stared into Matt's eyes for reassurance.

Everyone in the street and from behind closed window blinds watched with bated breath as Matt Dillon waited for a beat, then slowly lowered his revolver, dropping it into the dust at his feet with a heavy thud. He quietly but insistently replied, "Don't hurt her, Blackthorne." Matt cautiously moved closer, his hands outstretched at his sides, until he was only a few short yards away from them, away from Kitty.

Blackthorne stared malevolently at Matt for a heart-stopping moment, a strange look in his visible gray eye. His face twitched. His gravelly voice hissed, "But she's mine. You realize that, right, Mathias?" Blackthorne smiled, turned his head and touched his lips to Kitty's ear, whispering to her in an oily voice, "Señora de la Noche …"

Tamping down a shudder, the cold steel of the gun barrel pressing relentlessly against her skull, Kitty stared hard at Matt, her eyes darting back up at Blackthorne, then down at the burly arm clamped around her chest. She urgently locked frightened but determined eyes with Matt again.

Through gritted teeth, Matt asserted, "No, she isn't, Blackthorne. She's mine."

With that, Kitty opened her mouth and bit down hard on Blackthorne's wrist, sinking her teeth into his pale skin, drawing blood. Blackthorne screamed, dropping his gun, tearing his arm away from her.

Matt charged at his nemesis like an enraged bull as Kitty leapt out of the way. He furiously pounded his fist into Blackthorne's face, feeling grim satisfaction as he felt bone crunch, saw blood pour from the cruel man's nose and mouth. Before the outlaw could recover, Matt punched a left hook to his jaw, knocking the man's leather mask from his ruined face, followed by a right to his midsection. Blackthorne groaned, bent over gasping. Matt leaned over to hover near the ear of the man he hated more than any on earth, muttering, "I told you I was gonna kill ya', you heartless bastard…"

Blackthorne straightened slowly, his voice poisonously low, "Not if I kill you first…" In his hand was a gleaming dagger that he skillfully thrust, holding it at Matt's throat.

Matt rose slowly as well, standing cautiously, contemplating his next move. He had to win this fight. He had to be certain Kitty would be free of this formidable foe forever. Blackthorne must die.

Suddenly, a feminine voice spoke up from behind Matt. "Silas…" Kitty urged, her tone soft and honeyed. "Please don't hurt him."

Blackthorne's ears perked up as Kitty Russell spoke his given name. He watched as she drew closer…and closer…touching him. He had to concentrate, to focus, to keep his dagger pressed against Mathias' throat. She stroked her cool fingers over his scarred cheek, gazed unblinkingly into his milky-white, blind eye.

Blackthorne unflinchingly declared, "La Niña Blanca, Mathias has to die." He wrapped an arm insistently around her waist as she pressed her body nearer. "He will come between us. You are my compañera eterna." A trickle of blood emerged from the tip of the dagger mercilessly pressed against Matt's throat.

Matt flinched, but he watched, waited for an opportunity.

Blackthorne gazed down as Kitty enticingly began to unbutton her shirt. She breathed, "Are you sure?"

Blackthorne slowly nodded as he watched her, entranced. She placed a finger under his chin, urging him to look into her eyes. Suddenly, Silas Blackthorne detected a piercing pain, a burning in his belly, then a warm, spreading wetness on his skin, his clothing. His mouth fell open, but no words could he utter.

Kitty's eyes glittered as she snarled, "Rot in hell, you son-of-a-bitch," twisting the blade of the stiletto knife she'd kept hidden in her clothing deeper into her torturer's abdomen.

The dagger at Matt's throat fell from Blackthorne's own hand as, disbelieving, he groaned, "Señora..." He loosened his hold on Kitty, staggered senselessly toward the jail. Kitty and Matt watched, stunned, as Silas Blackthorne collapsed in the middle of the dusty street.

Kitty's body shuddered as she stared at the wet, sticky blood on her hands, the iron tang assaulting her nose. She stared up at Matt as she dropped the knife, the shining blade now stained crimson.

Matt pulled Kitty into a fierce embrace, whispering to her, "You're safe now, honey. You're safe."

tbc

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