Chapter Ten.
Ezra blinked slowly, his breathing careful as he waited for a searing pain to come. The clouds of dizziness and nausea to wash over him. When nothing came, he looked slowly up at McKale, who, still pointing the gun at him, also seemed a little confused.
They stared at each other for a split second, before McKale's head turned on hearing a commotion outside.
"Pa! Someone's shooting at us!" a voice shouted frantically from the front yard, "Danny's been hit!"
McKale's head whirled back to look at Ezra viciously, but at the same time, he moved the gun away, using it to gesture at his two sons,
"You stay here with them. If he so much as moves. Shoot him,"
Luke grinned, and Ezra could see he would have no trouble following the command through.
McKale looked out of the front door cautiously, and slid out of sight into the shadow of the veranda. Ezra watched him go, but his attention was drawn by Luke shifting his position, and wandering over to him. He stopped and peered down at the gambler with a sneer, ignoring the sporadic, but increased sounds of gunfire outside.
"Ready to die yet gambling man?"
Ezra barely heard him, he was concentrating on the battle taking place before the house. Surely it denoted that Hannah was safe, and that she'd found the others as he'd hoped. Or maybe they'd arrive anyway, and she was still wandering. As Luke paced restlessly before him, he pulled himself back to the conversation at hand,
"Son, I believe I was ready about five minutes ago, but fate intervened."
Luke, obviously not getting the response he'd wanted, which Ezra expected was none at all, pushed the barrel of his gun into the gambler's neck viciously.
"I ain't your son,"
"Luke..." the remaining brother intervened harshly, coming forward to stand by the chair where Mrs. Roth sat trembling, "Stop playin' around,"
Luke glared at his brother for a second, before stepping back and giving Ezra a hard push with his foot. Ezra landed on the floor beside Mrs. Roth's feet, and she gasped and drew them up. Behind him, Luke turned restlessly, and wandered off to the window, to observe the battle outside, muttering grumpily,
"Fine, you deal with him,"
As the other man stepped forward to grab at Ezra's shirt and pull him to his knees, Ezra seized his chance. He took up the hidden pan, and connected it with the man's head, water spilling out across the floor, the man uttered a cry and fell over backwards. Luke, over by the window, whirled round, bringing up his gun, but Ezra was quicker. He whipped up the gun from the fallen brother, and discharged a shot into Luke's chest.
Luke stood for a second, face masked with confusion before he thudded to the ground, gun sliding across the floor harmlessly. Ezra let out a sigh,
"Well, that's one dilemma resolved," he stood quickly, ignoring the spell of dizziness that came with it, and walked quickly to the table, pulling back on his guns and hat.
Mrs. Roth was fixated with the body lying beneath her window, shaking as she watched the blood start to seep across her floor.
"Madam?" Ezra was extending a hand to her. She glanced at him without really looking, and so he continued, "I suggest we vacate the premises via the back," he pulled her gently from the chair, and marched swiftly into the bedroom. Pulling out his gun, he headed cautiously for the window, sliding back the bolt, and pushing one of the panes open slowly. When this action was not challenged, he put his head out slightly, satisfying himself further, that everyone was out the front.
He bent to pick up his jacket from the floor, and pulled it on quickly, brushing the dust off the sleeves and shoulders. Once satisfied that his attire was in a satisfactory condition, he smiled brightly Mrs. Roth,
"Shall we?" in two quick movements he was outside, and turning to beckon her through. She was a lot less nimble than he was, but she managed to climb out without too much indignity. Once she was beside him, he straightened his hat once more, and pointed to a small barn beside the house, set forward slightly.
"I suggest we make for that building, and use the outside of it to make our way up the incline towards the road,"
She looked at him hesitantly,
"People are shooting from up there,"
He lead the way forward, irrespective of her concerns, adding confidently,
"Indeed. My associates," he grinned ruefully, "...and despite the numerous times I have given them just cause, they are yet to shoot me."
He crouched at the end of the wall, and beckoned Mrs. Roth down also, waiting for a lull in the gunfire when he might be able to send Mrs. Roth for the barn. He smiled thinly, surely he was on the home straight?
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Buck gave a loud whoop as a bullet thudded into the trough, and a loud curse arouse. He was enjoying himself immensely.
To his side, Chris was using less of his bullets, casting his eyes eagerly over the ground, hoping the diversion had allowed Ezra to escape, and preparing to cover his flight.
Around him, spread out into a pincer shape, the others fired on stoically, each watching for their own glimpse of the familiar bright jacket.
There was a metallic thud, and beside him Buck whooped once more before throwing him a wide smile,
"JD will sure hate to have missed this!"
And shaking his head at the boy's predicament, he grinned again. Took aim, and fired.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
McKale was in a bad mood. He had been forced to crouch beneath an upturned trough as bullets rained down. His second eldest son Danny had been shot in the leg and was in an immense amount of pain, and, to cap it all, there was an unknown number of assailants firing down on them.
He smiled thinly as he ran through his possible enemies, there was a fair list of them to be sure. He decided however, upon the Four Corners lawmen. The impromptu attack also meant, he thought savagely, that Mrs. Moore would not be returning, her child had also escaped, and now he was holding a gambling law-upholding gun slinger hostage, whilst his friends rained down hell from their, frankly, significantly better vantage point.
But, McKale smiled. He was still holding the ace. He still had the lawman. He deftly ducked a bullet that clipped the top of the trough, and turned to one of his sons, firing periodically beside him.
"Matthew! Get me that gambler!"
However, Matthew barely had time to move before a howl from the battered ranch doorway caught everyone's attention, and made the McKale boys' blood run cold.
Jonas was standing in the door, hand to head, holding a bloody rifle, face a mask of misery and regret.
"Pa! He killed Luke!"
McKale's heart stopped beating for a split second, and his stomach lurched. Luke. His youngest. His son. Dead. Jonas opened his mouth to speak again,
"Pa! They - ," but he was cut off as a bullet found his middle, throwing him backwards.
"Jonas!" McKale's calm tone broke in hysteria as his son went down. He looked around frantically at his boys, "Get him to safety! Get him over here!"
Obliging their father to the last, several of his sons dived into the melee, and dragged their whimpering brother to the safety of an upturned cart. McKale, himself dodging the bullets, dove over, coming up alongside his son and stroking his hair with a shaking hand.
"Jonas,"
Jonas' eyes flickered, and he looked up with a shaky breath,
"He got away Pa. He shot Luke. He got away."
McKale stroked the flaxen hair, sticky with perspiration,
"Sssh. I know. I know."
Jonas' eyes fluttered, and, with a shudder, he drew his last breath, his head falling to one side.
For a full minute, McKale said nothing, and, hounded by bullets and without a leader, his sons seemed clueless. Eventually however, McKale looked up. In his eyes burned a newly awakened fury, and his sons cringed in horror at his murderous expression. The corner of his lips drew up in a half-crazed grin, and turning to face the rest of his family, he roared out his demand.
"BURN IT DOWN!"
His sons at once leapt to comply, grabbing anything dry they could find. McKale meanwhile found himself a space amongst the broken cart beams to watch, and wait.
The gambler would pay. No one took a McKale boy.
