Part Four
Shane stood up slowly, glancing nervously between Calloway and this other, older man.
"How do you know my name?" he asked quietly. Austin groaned at his feet, but Shane was powerless to do anything to help him.
The man replied in his thick deep voice. "That's not important right now. You!" he said, pointing to Michaels. "Go back to the town, and tell the people that we are coming. I want them to know that death is on its way."
Shawn glanced at Shane and then at Austin. Shane nodded for him to take the hunter with him.
"I'm not leaving you here with them." The deputy whispered at his side. Shane was touched by his loyalty, but wanted them out of here. At least they'll only have me…
"Go." Shane said through gritted teeth, trying to steel himself against what was sure to come. "Steve needs help, you have to take him back," he said, although he wondered what this man's motives were. From what he had heard it was not at all like them to let someone go.
"Shane…that's him-" began the deputy.
"Go! Now, Shawn, get the hell out of here. I can look after my self."
He looked back at The Undertaker and his strange companion, leaving no more room for argument.
"How touching," the older man sneered. Shane's anger flared. They might kill him, but he was going to go down fighting. He set his handsome features in a determined frown.
The man saw the change in the sheriff's expression. " No no…there will be none of that. You are to come with us. You will join us; you will be made to join us."
"The hell I will," Shane growled.
Michaels was meanwhile attempting to stand Austin up. "Can you ride, Steve?"
The hunter looked at him, grimacing in pain. "Yeah. Just help me up." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move; just at the side of the bushes, a tiny rustle. Michaels followed his gaze, and saw it too – only he knew what it was. He allowed himself a tiny smile; there was no way in hell he was leaving. Things were about to get interesting. He looked at where Shane was standing just a few feet away from the two mercenaries. The older man was still speaking.
"Yes…you will. You are fated to join me, Shane."
"Who the hell are you? What do you want with me?"
"My name is not important right now. All with be explained in time, Shane."
"My friends call me Shane. The rest call me sheriff – and you sure as hell are not my friend, you son of a bitch."
"No…I'm not your friend." The man sounded almost rueful. "I'm your father."
Shane was speechless. The man was as insane as he was evil, and he couldn't help but laugh.
"My father was Robert McMahon, and a good man."
"If that is what you choose to believe."
"Of course it is! It's true!" Shane replied, although the seeds of doubt were sown. What the hell is going on here?
Behind him, Michaels was labouring to put Steve on his feet; he could hear the grunts of pain coming from the hunter. Suddenly, he didn't want to be left alone with these two, there was something very wrong here.
"I tire of this. You will come with us, now." He turned to the giant, who throughout the whole scene had barely moved an inch. "Get him." The hulking mass moved towards him, his cat like footsteps barely making a sound on the dusty ground. His long black hair flowed around his gruesome face. Shane steeled himself, preparing to lunge at the monster that stood before him.
He never got the chance. A loud report rang out and the giant crumpled before him, hands grasping his chest as his life's blood flowed from between his fingers. As he fell, the look of shock on his face mirrored that of Austin's only a few moments before. Shane sun round, expecting to see Michaels with his gun still smoking, but the deputy was stood next to Austin horse, holding up the hunter. Michaels too was looking about wildly, and Shane looked back to the man on the floor, who was now quite dead. Suddenly remembering the other man, Shane looked up; but to no avail. As soon as the Undertaker had begun to fall, his companion had turned tail and fled, back into the shadows. Shane whirled around, trying to spot some movement that would give him away, but it was too late. He had disappeared as quietly as he had come.
"Shit!" the sheriff screamed in frustration. Although his target had been vanquished, he had a feeling that this other man was the one behind it, and something told him that he was more dangerous than Calloway could ever have been.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, and almost jumped out of his skin.
"I always said I'd get him one day." Shane recognised the voice instantly, but turned anyway. Sure enough, Johnson stood before him, gun still in hand, and smirking smugly. He looked at the sheriff, then at the Undertaker, and back to the sheriff again.
Shane wanted to hug him and kill him at the same time.
"Did I…or did I not…expressly tell you to stay in town tonight?"
"Oh, stay in town? I thought you said get out of town. Sorry."
Shane smiled up at the hunter, for once glad that Johnson had not listened to him.
"Huh," came a voice from behind them. "The way you came through those bushes it's a wonder they didn't see you a mile away, Johnson."
They turned to see Austin, still being supported by the deputy, smiling through his pain.
"Well, I expected more from you Austin, you stupid son of a bitch. Getting shot in the back…" Johnson walked towards his nemesis, and surprised all by gently placing an arm around Austin's shoulders, and helping Michaels to pitch him up on his horse. With difficulty, Austin placed his feet in the stirrups, and straightened with a grimace.
"Don't think this means I like you, Johnson. 'Cos it doesn't." he said, before walking his horse to the edge of the clearing.
The younger hunter smiled, and went to retrieve his own horse from where he had hidden it behind a thick grove of trees, as Michaels lashed the grim corpse over his own, not relishing the thought of having to ride all the way back into town with this monster so near him.
Shane and the deputy both mounted up, and joined Austin as they waited for Johnson.
"Well, thank god that's over," said Michaels with a sigh.
"Nothing's over yet. I think that the one that got away could possibly make even more trouble than he did," answered Shane, indicating the corpse that was now slung over the deputy's horse.
"What the hell was all that about anyway?" asked Johnson, riding up to them. "Why would he think you're his son?"
"I'm damned if I know," answered Shane. "The guy was crazy." He turned to Steve.
"Are you sure you're ok to ride?" he asked him, concerned about the ever enlarging bloodstain in his lower back.
"Not if we sit around here all goddamn night," Austin muttered, grimacing. The bullet had hit him on the left side of his back; he didn't think it was deep, but it hurt like hell, and he was growing weaker by the second.
"Alright lets get the hell out of here." He scanned the area once more, hoping for some sign of the mysterious figure that had eluded his capture. But the hills were as silent as ever. Scowling, he jogged his horse forward, and they set off, back to Deadwood.
They rode back into town just as the dawn light was appearing over the hills. Austin barely made it. Shane leapt off his horse and was at his friend's side just in time to catch him as he fell from his own horse in exhaustion.
"It's ok, Steve, we're going to get the doc for you. You're going to be fine."
The hunter looked up wearily. "Find Jo for me. Tell her what happened."
"You're going to be able to tell her yourself, Steve. Shawn, help me!" he called to his deputy, and between them, with Johnson in the rear, they carried the wounded hunter into the sheriff's office.
"I'll go get the doctor," Dwayne said, and Shane could hear the concern in his voice; he had to suppress a small smile. He'd always said that if Austin and Johnson were not the worst of enemy's they'd be the best of friends.
The young hunter left the others to tend to Austin, who was now almost delirious.
"Shane…he doesn't look too good…" began the deputy. Shane silenced him with a fierce glance. He didn't need to hear this now. Steve reached out for his hand, and Shane clasped it, his palm slick with sweat from his fever.
"Come on Steve, hold on. You're going to be fine…" Shane said, but could hear the desperation in his voice. Austin had lost so much blood, and he could see the pain etched on to his friend's face. Where the hell was the doctor?
"Joanna?" the hunter asked feebly, his feverish eyes searching the room at random.
"I'll get her for you Steve, don't worry about that now."
The door opened, and Johnson entered, ushering in a very rumpled looking man; Shane guessed that the hunter had dragged him straight from bed. The doctor went straight to where they had laid Austin out on top of Shane's desk.
"Ok, what do we have here? Can you turn him over for me?"
Shane did as the doctor told him, all the time struggling to remember his name…he had only just moved to the area a few weeks ago, and his stressed frame of mind, Shane could not for the life of him recall what the doctor's name was. He dismissed it, and tried to concentrate on his friend. The doctor was examining the hunter's wound; Shane just hoped to god he knew what to do.
"Doc, is he going to be ok?" Michaels asked, thinking exactly the same thing.
"Well, I can see the bullet; it's not very deep. But he's lost a lot of blood." The doctor delved deep into the black bag he had brought with him, and extracted a painful looking instrument, like a large pair of tweezers.
"Hold him down please," he said matter of factly, and Shane took a deep breath as the doctor drove the tweezers deep into the hunter's wound. Even in his delirious state, Austin felt the pain and cried out loud as the doctor searched for the bullet. Shane glanced at his deputy and the look on his face mirrored his own, cringing as the doctor plunged deeper and deeper in his quest for the slug. Finally after what seemed like hours, and just as Shane was beginning to think he could not bear Austin's screams any longer, the doctor withdrew a smallish black ball from the depths of the wound. The hunter felt the departure of the bullet and his body relaxed, slumping into unconsciousness. Shane sighed with relief; this was not the first time he had seen such a painful extraction; surgery was done in such ways in Deadwood, but it never got any easier to watch.
The doctor continued to tend to the unconscious hunter, sewing up the wound, and placing a large gauze bandage around his mid section. Between them they carried Austin to a back room of the office where there was a small cot that Shane used sometimes.
"What now?" Shane asked anxiously.
"Now we wait, and hope an infection doesn't set in. His wound will need to be bathed regularly, and he'll need a lot of rest," replied the doctor, stretching, as he reached down for his bag. He headed towards the door. "That's if he even makes it through the rest of the day," he said before leaving.
Shane looked at the hunter; Shawn and Johnson were stood by Austin's bedside, watching his pained sleep. A thought occurred to the sheriff.
"Shawn, back then, you said 'it's him'. What did you mean?"
The deputy looked at Shane. "What? Oh…the older guy…that was who rode in here the other day, to tell me about Calloway." He said nonchalantly before looking back to the hunter.
"What? What the hell is going on here? Why would he do that?"
"I don't know Shane…but you heard what he said." The deputy answered. "He said he wanted the town to know that death was coming."
"Yeah, well, he also said he was my father, so I'm not placing much on his sanity." Shane stared at the injured hunter, his face pinched with pain even in his sleep. He's got to pull through, he told himself.
"I guess I better get Joanna," Shane said out loud, although he wasn't talking to anyone other than himself.
"Who the hell is Joanna?" Johnson asked.
"Steve's sister," the sheriff replied, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. He was exhausted both physically and mentally; the night had been a roller coaster ride of emotion for him, and as much as he wanted to see her, he didn't want to have to tell her that her brother had been shot. Shawn looked up, but said nothing; from the conversation Shane and Austin had had before the shit had hit the fan, Shawn had pretty much figured out what was going on. Shane left the office with one last glance to his friend, and went out into the street.
Dwayne looked at the deputy questioningly. "Austin has a sister?"
* * *
Shane stalked down the street as the early morning light filtered down upon the desolate town. He was trying desperately to figure out how he was going to tell Joanna about her brother, when he came to the place where they had tethered their horses only an hour or so before hand. He stopped, staring at the mounts, trying to work out what was wrong. He shook his head, his mind whirling, and put it down to the stress of the situation. All he could think about was the fight he and Austin had the night before…if he hadn't been so stupid, he might have heard them coming…
Shane reached the door of the hotel, and with a deep breath, he went in. The lobby was deserted, and he realised belatedly that he had no idea what room she was in. The problem was solved for him, when the door opened behind him, and Joanna walked in, her long hair tied up, and wearing a riding jacket, her face still flushed from her early morning ride. She saw him and stopped; she began to smile, but then saw the look on his face, and her smile dropped.
"What's wrong?"
"Miss Ashton…" he began uncertainly, her gaze unsettling his thoughts just as it had on the first night they met.
"What's wrong?" she repeated, but with more intensity. "It's Steve, isn't it? Please tell me…"
Shane could think of no easy way to tell her. "I'm afraid he's been shot." Shane continued to tell her of the previous nights events. He cringed as her lovely face crumpled, and she raised her hands to her mouth. He carried on quickly. "He's ok, the doctor has seen him, and he managed to remove the bullet. I think he's going to be ok." Joanna sighed with relief, but the tears still fell. Barely realising he was doing so, Shane went to her, and she clung to him as she sobbed. "I always knew…something like this would happen one day…" she said, tearfully, her head on Shane's shoulder. Shane strived to find the words to comfort her, but none came. She intoxicated him; she was so close, too close, and it took his breath away. He felt guilty thinking these things about his injured friend's sister at a time like this, but couldn't help it - he had to fight the urge to pull her head from his shoulder and kiss her. As if reading his thoughts, she lifted her head, and stared at him. The tears had softened the icy blue of her eyes, and once again, he found himself entranced. They moved together, and he felt her soft lips upon his. They kissed with an unjustified urgency, as if the world was to end any moment and this would be their only chance. Shane broke the kiss, his guilt consuming him.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes searching his face.
"This…this isn't right, I almost got your brother killed for Christ's sake!"
"No, it wasn't your fault. I don't blame you, and Steve won't either." Shane thought about this for a moment. He thought back to the fight he and Steve had had; if he hadn't been acting like such an asshole, they would never have let those bastards sneak up on them.
"Can you take me to him?" she asked, sensing the need for a change of subject.
"Yes, of course. He's in the jail house." She grinned, despite her worry.
"Well, at least he'll feel at home."
They left the hotel, Shane taking her arm softly, and leading her down the street. Once again, he paused to look at the horses; and it struck him like a thunderbolt.
The body was gone.
Mark Calloway's corpse was no longer slung over Michael's horse, where they had left it. The sheriff's first thought was that Johnson could have taken it to the jailhouse, but his instincts told him otherwise. Looking wildly around the streets for any sign of life, his gaze fell on Joanna.
"What is it? Shane, what's wrong?" she asked, seeing the worried look on his face.
"It's him…he's here, somewhere. Oh Christ."
"Who? What are you talking about?"
"Jo, you can't go to Steve right now, it's not safe…we have to get off the street, now."
"No! I have to see him, Shane! I need to know he's alright!"
"Joanna, please, just listen to me! Look, the body is gone, and whoever took it is around here somewhere. If he sees you with me…" he didn't finish, not wanting to even consider the implications.
"But…" Joanna began to protest, but with no conviction. She was scared; and Shane could see it written all over her beautiful face.
"I'll take you back to your hotel; let's go, now."
They walked swiftly back the way they came, Shane searching every darkened corner and alleyway for potential threats. He was scared for himself, but he was terrified for her. He wouldn't be able to live with the guilt if she was harmed because of him, too.
Rushing through the door of the hotel, Shane checked the street once more for any sign of anything, but the street was still deserted, everyone sleeping off the hangover from the night before. As he walked her up the winding staircase, he thought grimly of Johnson's reaction to the missing corpse. He was going to be mightily pissed; with no body, there was no reward.
They reached her room, with Shane still checking over his shoulder; the silence was terrible for him, and every instinct he owned told him worse was to come. He was still looking down the corridor when Joanna screamed.
Shane had his gun drawn in a flash, as he pushed past her into the room. On the bed, sat up in a mock imitation of life, was The Undertaker's corpse, the eyes open and staring straight at him. He stood in shock, and the implications dawned on him…whoever he was, The Undertaker's companion had already known that Joanna was Steve's sister. Joanna clung to Shane's arm, staring morbidly at the corpse on the bed.
"Ok, so I guess coming to your room was a bad idea."
A familiar voice behind him coincided with the feeling of cold steel being pressed to the back of his head.
"I guess it was, Shane. Drop the gun."
To Be Continued…
