Chapter Twelve.
The McKale boys didn't know it, but they were being closed in upon. Two of them were dead, three more injured, one seriously, and their father was no where to be seen. To cap it all, the house was looking alarmingly unstable, and threatened to pitch over and throw the molten ashes and flames all over their positions.
As a cry rang out Jacob McKale looked over, his brother Samuel was writhing on the ground in pain, an arm clamped to his side,
"Damn it!"
Beside him there was a shuffling of dirt, and as he whirled round, consumed by paranoia, he came face to face with his brother Ely, who looked a little surprised to have a gun pointed in his face. Jacob hissed angrily and let his gun slide down to point at the ground instead.
Ely seemed panicked,
"What we gonna do Jacob? Kale's dead, an' you an' me are the only one's whose not injured. We can't beat 'em!"
Jacob closed his eyes, Kale dead too. Damn that gambler and his friends. They were wiping out his entire family, and now the mantle of eldest was placed squarely on his shoulders, and everyone else was looking to him. Only, he didn't know what to do. Every instinct was screaming at him to give up, save the rest of his family and admit defeat. But he was a McKale, he would never give up, not when he was avenging his brothers, and not with his father to please.
"We'll kill all of them bastards! Like pa said! No one messes with the McKales,"
Ely looked stunned, and opened his mouth as if to contradict his latest statement. However, at that moment, there was a hideous sound of creaking, crashing and roaring, as if the skies were caving in upon them.
The house was caving in, the roof slithering almost snake-like onto the ground, erupting in an explosion of sparks, wheeling and darting up from the blackened wreckage. Seconds later, the rest of the structure followed, crumbling to the ground in a cloud of smoke, flames and scattered embers.
The debris was enough to dismantle any chance the McKale boys had of gaining any advantage, for as they battled sparks and swirling pieces of ash from the air before them, and blinked back the tears streaming from their smoke-filled eyes they heard the familiar sound of guns clicking before them.
Jacob looked up, before him was a tall moustached gunman pointing a rifle in his direction, and grinning from ear to ear.
As the ashes and debris settled on the ground and the noise subsided to a dull crackle, the McKale boys admitted defeat at the ends of five separate guns, and began to raise dusty heads from their hiding places, and bring their own guns out of holsters to lay them on the ground.
As the smoke billowed up into the sky, a lone voice rang out from on top of the ridge, full of disappointment and exhaustion,
"Aw! Don't tell me I missed all the fighting!"
Buck shook his head at the young sheriff and chuckled,
"Not fast enough JD, just not fast enough!"
Beside them, Nathan cast about and voiced what they were all beginning to wonder,
"Where's Ezra?"
Chris sighed as he peered into the thick smoke clouds.
Damn.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The collapse of the house had been the last thing either of them had expected. Ezra, sheltered behind a rocky outcrop had been listening carefully to McKale's undisguised footsteps and mumbling, and judging the correct moment to strike.
However, where as the collapse of the house had been the McKale boys' disadvantage, it proved to be an advantage to their father.
As the roar of the crumbling house erupted across the landscape, blowing with it large pieces of ash and debris, Ezra ducked low behind the rocky outcrop, letting the fragments blow over his head accompanied by wispy billows of smoke. When the smoke had cleared enough to show the surroundings clearly once more, Ezra, lying flat out, turned over and let his gaze fall on a crack between two of the larger rocks, his breathing stilled, his brow sticky and smoky.
McKale was gone.
Ezra at once spun around onto his back, and sat up slowly, moving to a crouching position, his eyes scanning the smoky gloom for any shadows or movement, ears listening for anything above the distant crackling of burning timbers.
Swallowing, his tongue licking his lips cautiously and resting on his bottom lip in concentration, Ezra edged slowly towards where the rocks gave way onto open ground. His heart was hammering in his chest, his eyes flicking constantly around.
As he reached the last of the big rocks, he sat still, checking once more for any changes or movement around him. Still nothing. Heart beating ten to the dozen, and his adrenaline rushing, he slowly raised his head above the lowest of the rocks, before launching himself into the open, gun ready to greet whatever lay before him.
Which was nothing. Ezra couldn't stop his shoulders from slumping slightly. McKale seemed to have simply vanished, which wasn't a good sign.
It was as he turned to face the outcrop that a strangled cry greeted him. Before he could react, there was a loud bang that sounded as though it had gone off in his head, and a searing pain tore at his arm, sending him reeling backwards onto the floor. He knew the bullet hadn't gone through anything serious, and that it had skimmed past his arm, but as he clamped his hand to it, he also knew that it was bleeding, and that it hurt...a lot. Probably not helped from having fallen on it several times in one day.
He also realised, that if didn't do something quickly, McKale was going to shoot him again, and so he raised his own gun in the silver-haired man's direction.
McKale was bearing down on him pretty quickly, seemingly diving through the air towards him. As Ezra slowly raised the gun, he felt a foot connect with his hand, and watched helplessly as his gun skidded across the dusty ground and lay still beyond his reach.
McKale grinned, pointing the gun down at him squarely, his dirty, sticky face not showing the same sense of determination that his eyes gave away,
The older man seemed breathless,
"I'll kill one of you today at least. Get revenge for one of my boys, my Luke. He was a good lad Standish, a good lad, he didn't deserve what come to him,"
Despite his position, Ezra snorted,
"And I suppose the butchering of your own victims was entirely justified,"
McKale grinned once more,
"No one kills a McKale and gets away with it,"
Ezra watched him out of cold eyes. The old man was swaying slightly, his eyes wide and hand shaking. He was going to shoot. Ezra took his chance. He lifted his foot and kicked the barrel up high. The gun discharged, and Ezra felt the dust fly up just behind his him as the bullet barely missed his head. At the same time, he grabbed McKale's hand, pulling him in close and using his other arm to hit McKale in the face. As McKale staggered backwards, Ezra realised it was a bad idea to use such a sudden movement, as fire raced through his bad arm.
McKale tipped backwards, his gun skittering off between the rocks as he landed back-first with a thud.
Ezra didn't waste any time, at once he was up and on top of McKale, delivering some more blows, gaining some small sense of retribution for his own injuries. However, his blind anger didn't last long, and he paused, his fist above McKale's face breathing heavily.
He turned instead and looked for his gun, it lay some feet off, half covered by the dirt and dust of the ground, but visible in the sun breaking through the smoke clouds.
He stood up and began to hobble towards it, however, he was surprised at his own pace, and how slow and painful it was to walk.
Behind him, McKale started laughing, and he stopped to catch his breath, turning to face his battered opponent. McKale was groping for a loose rock, pawing at it with his hands, prying it free from the earth. He was laughing at the same time. Ezra watched him, almost with pity. However he wasn't prepared for McKale's final show of strength. The old man sat up very suddenly, the rock in his hand and threw it at the gambler. Ezra dived to the ground as the rock bounced off his thigh, and bit his lip to stop himself from cursing out loud.
He could have shot himself he was so unprepared for McKale's strength. Well, he thought to himself, angst can do incredible things to the human body.
There was a crunching, and Ezra once again found himself staring up the barrel of McKale's gun, and cursing himself for having damaged his own sleeve gun several weeks back. It was just such a situation for which he had it and yet when one arose, he was without it.
McKale laughed again, sensing victory as Ezra tried to ignore the throbbing in his leg. It was as McKale grinned maniacally at him that Ezra caught the gleam of something just a foot away, the shiny metal catching the reflection of the weak sun.
He looked back at McKale again, who seemed to be growing less and less steady on his feet, and taking a deep breath, decided to take the plunge. Raising his foot as high as he could, he booted at McKale's leg, the old man let out a cry and sank to his knees, and as he did, Ezra rolled over, grabbed up his gun, turned back and fired.
As the shot echoed about them, Ezra blinked. McKale's gun was still pointing at him, and both men were still eyeing each other. Neither was moving, each trying to work out whose gun had gone off. For a terrible moment, Ezra was convinced that it was McKale who had won, he was aching so much all over he wasn't sure he'd felt the shot. But as he watched, McKale's eyes began to twitch, and his focus drift. His mouth slid open, and with a gasp for breath, he slid over backwards, and fell to the ground still.
Ezra looked down, his gun was smoking and pointed to where McKale's chest had been before him moments ago. He had won.
The relief washed over him like a wave, and all the pain came flooding back to him. Slowly, he stood, and treading over McKale's body, he walked unsteadily towards the rocky outcrop. He moved to put his gun back in its holster, but misjudged the distance, and ended up dropping it to the floor again. This time however, there was no need to notice, and he slid back down the rock, landing on the floor with a soft thud. He clamped his hand to his injured arm, and with his other hand, pulled down the brim of his hat so that it covered his slowly closing eyes.
He'd just rest for a while. Get back his strength.
Then the darkness came.
ooooooooooooooooooo
So...verdict? Only one last chapter to come, as a sort of prologue/final piece thing.
I'm also working on another story about good old Ez, only it's going to be shorter, and a bit more comical (though not a parody or anything) just more light-hearted. Anyhoo, last chappy should be up in the next few days, and watch for the new story which is also nearly finished actually.
Thanks again for reviewing!
