PART 5:
They couldn't send a wire, so they had no choice. Someone had to ride to Four Corners, and they had to leave now. Carson's men, Lew and Bill, might have worked to kill Rudolph, but apparently, the steward, Stevenson, was still working on the original plan – to blow up the jail and kill the Sahales, Miss Witt, and whichever lawmen were nearby.
They couldn't take the chance that Carson was wrong about that.
Buck went immediately to the livery to talk to the man in charge. With all the train problems, there were no spare mounts available for rent. But the livery man finally offered a big roan mare. "Carson Rand bought her from me last month," he said. "I guess he won't be wanting her anymore."
They'd just completed the transaction when Buck turned to find Ezra struggling. Chaucer was being as difficult as always, nipping and leaning on him as he attempted to lift the saddle into place.
With a sigh, Buck helped him. "I don't know if this is a good idea," Buck said. "I'd like it if we could stick together, but…"
"I will do my level best to keep up," Ezra promised, meeting Buck's gaze. Even with his eyes half-swollen shut, there was no denying his resolve. "If I fall behind, I will catch up, but one of us must reach Four Corners and do what we can to keep anyone else from getting hurt."
"Yeah, getting hurt…" Buck mumbled. "We don't even know if this is still in motion."
"It's out of control, Buck," Ezra said. "And I fear it won't stop until we do something about it. Rudolph said he trusted one man, and it has to be Stevenson."
"Still blindly following orders," Buck said and sighed.
"Well, we'd better hurry," Ezra went on. "Carson said that it'd be tonight, and we have little daylight left."
With a nod, Buck added, "And it will be a new moon. Lord, we gotta start so that we get there before dark."
They exited the livery, and Buck offered a hand to get Ezra into his saddle. Ezra kept his face impassive, but he couldn't entirely hide the groan that escaped him. It was obvious that the man was still hurting, and this ride would do him no good at all.
Buck pulled the bottle of painkiller from his pocket. "This would probably help," he stated.
Ezra looked as if he was considering using it, but instead he shook his head. "We both saw how quickly Mr. Benson succumbed. I'd rather not crack my head open in a fall from my horse."
Seeing the wisdom, Buck put the bottle back into his pocket and climbed onto his horse. "Let's get going then."
And they went.
*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*
The ride to Four Corners was at a furious pace, and the roan mare proved to be an able ride, quick and surefooted. Ezra fell behind, but he made up time when Buck slowed to let the horse drink at a watering hole.
"You doing okay?" Wilmington asked.
The correct response was obvious. Ezra's skin was taking on an ashen tone, his bruises livid against his pale skin. His chin was tucked to his chest, and his hand wound into his reins as if he feared he couldn't keep a grip on them. "Fine," Ezra replied.
"Ezra, you can stay here to rest. We're halfway there now, and it's easy riding from now on. I can make it there, and you can catch up later."
"You're not slowin' on my account?" Ezra asked.
"No, Ezra, I'm not. I know we gotta get there fast."
"I'm not a fool. I care too much for my own comfort to allow myself any unnecessary pains." And he smiled that blithe smile, as if he had not a care in the world.
There was little Wilmington could do at this point. "I got to get moving," he told Standish.
"Then, let's go," Ezra replied.
And the two horses took off together, only for Chaucer to fall back again, little by little. Buck wasn't sure if it was Ezra or Chaucer, but one of them was wise enough to hang back when it was getting too hard for the rider.
Finally, the buildings of Four Corners came into view, all sound and safe. Buck smiled. No smoke, no sign of destruction. The jail still stood. Thank God!
Buck urged his horse to a faster speed, eager to get home and sound the warning. He glanced over his shoulder to see how far behind Ezra had fallen when, his horse suddenly went down.
Only then did he hear the crack of the shot, and his world was turned topsy-turvy.
He flew, and then plowed into the ground.
He rolled, to get away from the falling horse and to get to cover as another shot hit not far from him.
Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch!
He struggled, flopping himself toward the cover of rocks, and trying to get his gun from his holster as another shot sounded, kicking up dirt and nearly scalping him. He gasped in pain as he drew himself up against the rocks. He wasn't hit, he knew that much, but he hurt like a bastard.
Goddamn it!
He couldn't see the gunman. He knew he had to be up in rocky outcrop above him, but the man stayed out of sight.
Another shot sounded, behind him, and Buck spun, expecting another adversary but was relieved to find Ezra charging up on Chaucer, closing the distance and firing into a spot in the rocks.
It was enough to make the gunman change his position, and expose himself to Buck. More annoyed than anything, Wilmington took aim and fired off one shot.
The man went down, rolling down the rocks and ending up not far from where Buck's horse had fallen.
With a groan, Wilmington shuffled to his feet. It took a moment to find his balance and to get control of the aches and pains. With a determined stride, he stumbled to check the man.
"Buck!" Ezra called as he drew closer, Chaucer galloping to reach him. "Buck, are you alright?"
"Fine," Buck gasped.
"Oh, thank the Lord! You took a most spectacular dive, Mr. Wilmington – a complete somersault in the air. It was amazing. I'm thinkin' you're destined for a career in the circus. Are you sure you're okay?" His tone was jolly, but Buck could hear the undercurrent of tension.
"I will be," Buck responded as had verified that the man was dead.
"Shame about the horse," Ezra panted, finally bringing Chaucer to a trot and then stopping alongside the roan mare. "She was a fine creature."
Buck toed the dead man. "I'm getting a little tired of this, Ezra," Buck told him. "What's going on?"
"Someone wanted you dead," Ezra said.
"Why would they know we were coming?" Buck exclaimed, as he pulled open the man's jacket to look for anything that could be a clue.
Ezra lifted his head, his eyes barely open. It was a wonder he hadn't hit Buck when he was firing earlier. He looked like death warmed over. "Perhaps it wasn't you that was the target," he replied. "You were riding Carson's horse."
"Damn," Buck muttered, and glanced toward the poor horse. "I thought these folks were working for Carson. Lew and Bill? They crashed the train because they were trying to kill Rudolph. They shot him in his hospital bed. Why would one of them want to kill their boss, Carson?"
"Maybe it's Stevenson? Maybe Rudolph wanted Carson dead?" Ezra conjectured as he gazed down at the body. "No, he's not right for a train steward. This is a man who works the land. He's obviously a ranch hand."
Buck stood and said, "Seems like we're always playing catch-up, tryin' to figure all of this out."
Ezra was unmoving in his saddle. "I suppose we're riding double for the rest of the trip," he stated.
Buck thought it might be a good idea. Ezra didn't look like he'd be able to sit much longer. "I doubt this fellow walked here," Buck said.
It didn't take long to find the horse, secreted around the other side of the rocks.
"Ezra," Buck called. "You're not going to believe this."
"I'm ready to believe just about anything right now," Ezra replied.
When Buck brought the dun horse around, Ezra looked at it in confusion. "I'm supposed to recognize it?" Ezra asked.
"Not in particular," Buck said, and then pointed to the brands.
"Sahale South and Sahale North!" Ezra said, recognizing the symbols. "Dear Lord, the Sahale ranches are in the mix now!"
*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*
The sun was low in the sky by the time they reached Four Corners. They came storming into town, finding the streets quiet in comparison to Ridge City or Cedar Ridge, but busy for the little town. Folks had come in for the trial, and were filling up the saloons.
"Buck, hey, Buck!" he heard a voice shout as he rode toward the jail with Ezra a short distance behind him. He turned to see JD standing on the boardwalk and waving at him.
"JD!" Buck shouted, "Get out of here! Clear the streets."
JD came to a stop, "What? Why?" He looked a little paler than usual, but upright and functioning which was a hell of a lot better than the last time Buck had seen him.
Buck reached the jail and slung himself down from the saddle. "Get people away from the jail! JD, do it now!"
"Okay, okay," JD stuttered, and then started shouting for people to stand clear.
Wilmington flung open the door to the jailhouse, as Ezra was arriving at the hitching post. He was met with Vin, Chris and Josiah – all with guns drawn on him.
"What the hell's going on?!" Chris snarled.
"What's with all the shoutin'?" Vin asked.
Behind the three lawmen, the Sahale brothers stood, occupying the two cells. Lovely Miss Witt stood beside them, looking annoyed.
"Someone's supposed to blow up the jail," Buck said breathlessly. "We got to check. We got to find it. Tonight, he said… tonight…" And the sun was going down.
For a second, the three had varying looks of confusion and astonishment, then they split off, searching the room. Buck pulled away, back out the door to search outside. JD and Ezra were already checking the perimeter, neither of them really fit for the work. JD wobbled like a drunk, and Ezra was again barely able to walk. They were shuffling toward the back of the building.
Buck wasn't feeling too peppy either after his fall from the horse.
Buck had just reached Ezra, when the gambler came to an abrupt stop and pointed.
"There," Standish said as he leaned against the rear wall of the jail house. He was pale and breathing hard. "Dear Lord. JD, you'd best… best continue to clear the area. Buck?" He looked up for Wilmington.
The low light of the sun lit the area perfectly – almost too well. Between two barrels, amidst the trash that always built up behind the buildings, Buck could easily see the three sticks of dynamite.
The explosives were old, sweating and swollen. As dangerous as hell, and the low evening sun was boring into them. Ezra continued to lean on the building, just above the dynamite, panting from the ride. "We'd best… move the prisoners. Get everyone…out. It'd be too dangerous to move the … explosives now. We could… we could try to block the sunlight, but it's gonna go one way or another."
Buck grabbed Ezra's arm, pulling him back, as he shouted to JD, "Get the hell out of here, JD! Chris!" He raised his voice to be heard inside the jail. "Move the prisoners now!"
They moved. Buck pulled Ezra's arm over his own aching shoulder and dragged the man behind him. "Move!" he shouted.
JD was in the street, yelling at people to run. Josiah and Chris charged out of the jail, each pulling a Sahale behind them. Helen hurried ahead of them. Vin pounded on the doors of the nearest businesses. Someone had already untied the horses and shooed them up the road.
The citizens of Four Corners were used to strange happenings in town, and were helping to herd the visitors up the street and away from all the shouting.
There was no telling how much longer that swollen dynamite would last. It might make it through the night, it might…
KA-ROOOOOOOOOOM!
Buck and Ezra had barely made it around the side of the jail when the world exploded around them in a wall of sound and heat. Buck was thrown to the ground with Ezra, and debris came at them, clattering and falling and slamming into them. He pulled himself over Ezra, hoping to spare him from any further bruises as boards and bits of the Four Corners jail rained.
He was shouting, he couldn't remember what he said or why, but he knew he was shouting as he held Ezra down beneath him.
And suddenly, with a shock of pain, everything went black.
TBC - see, I can spread the pain around a bit. This time it was Buck's turn