Chapter Five

Everyone but Scott drew their guns immediately. Not being a part of this world of gunfighters, he didn't see the immediate danger soon enough to react in time. Shooting was not his first instinct, despite his having lived out here in the West for over three years, aa well as spending time with his brother, whose first instinct definitely was the gun. In a face-to- face gunfight, Scott would have been dead before he cleared leather.

Both Roger and Danny had drawn their revolvers together, with Danny having the slight edge in speed.

Seeing what was about to come down and having no other choice, Pony dove under the wagon, while turning, drawing and firing, all in one fluid motion. He might not have the reputation that Johnny Madrid had, but he was no greenhorn with a gun. Still, his shot managed to do no more harm than put a hole in Roger's hat, knocking it from his head.

Johnny, having seen the telltale flicker in Danny's eye, had his own gun out ahead of them all, however, his attention was divided.

Trusting that Pony was more concerned with self-preservation than trying to get one up on him, Johnny disregarded the black-clad gunman. While using his right hand to draw his Colt, he simultaneously used his left to reach out and give Scott a strong shove. Johnny knew that Scott, slightly ahead of him, would most likely tumble forward, rather than to the side. It was not the ideal direction to go, since the blond was too close to the wagon to miss it, but it was infinitely better than getting shot.

In the split second he saw Scott starting to fall out of the way, Johnny dove to his right, his gun spitting fire, as his body hit the boardwalk with a thud. He would normally have jumped to his left to avoid any chance of injuring the arm he used to shoot with, but as with pushing Scott, he didn't have any other option. He had to avoid the bullets he was sure would be coming his way. He may not have been the Flemings' original target, but he was shooting at them, so he quickly became one.

Johnny was dismayed not to hear Scott's gun returning the redheads' fire. His brother was by no means a gunfighter, but he was no slouch with a sidearm, either, and he certainly knew how to defend himself. Yet, Johnny only heard Pony's gun firing from under the wagon.

All thoughts of Scott were forcibly shoved aside, as a bullet hit the wooden walkway just three inches from Johnny's head, sending splinters in all directions. One nicked his forehead just above his left eyebrow. However, in the heat of battle, the sting of it was quickly forgotten.

After several more exchanges of gunfire, a loud scream burst out from one of the Flemings. Which one of them it was, though, Johnny couldn't tell. Both had hit the ground as soon as the first trigger had been pulled.

Roger was rolling across the dirt to the left, firing every time he came up onto his stomach. It was clear he was headed for the water trough a few feet behind the wagon.

Danny, near the front of the wagon, was yelling, "Roger. Roger, I'm hit!"

Lying flat, Johnny was using the top edge of the wagon's side boards to block the Flemings' view of his position. If it hadn't been for the fact that the would-be gunfighters were below him on the ground while he himself was up on the boardwalk with a wagon between them, he would have been totally exposed and likely shot by now.

Not having much choice at anything solid to hide behind, Pony Deal was dodging around behind the rear left wheel. With Roger rolling on the ground, the two were on the same level. and Pony could only trust that by moving the way he was, he was presenting enough of a confusing target that Roger, also trying to get out of the line of fire, wouldn't be accurate in his attempt to shoot between the spokes.

Pony made a quick attempt to nail Roger, as he came into view directly behind the wagon, but a shot from Danny sent him diving backwards and flattening himself on the ground.

With one last shot toward Pony, Roger Fleming rolled behind the water trough and was hunkered down at the far end of it.

At the other end of the wagon, all Johnny could see of the younger redhead was Danny's legs, as he flailed around, firing wildly and continuing to yell that he had been shot. So much for the bravado he had displayed earlier. Reality could be a harsh teacher to someone not prepared for what he was facing at this moment. And now that he was in pain, all Danny could do was think of himself, instead of helping his brother, who, as far as he knew, could be facing three other men.

Using his elbows and his toes, Johnny slowly pulled/pushed himself along the boardwalk until he could see across the front end of the wagon.

The horses were anxiously stamping in place. Being used to gunfire and other loud noises, they weren't totally panicked, not yet anyway. They were, however, shaking and tossing their heads up and down. How long before they finally did bolt, was anyone's guess. The nervous movements were causing the wagon to rock a few inches back and forth, as the horses' agitation mounted.

What worried Johnny most was not that, if the horses took off with the wagon, he would be exposed up on the boardwalk, but rather that Scott might be run over by the wheels, because he realized now that something was wrong with his borther.

"Easy, boys," Johnny soothed the team. "Calm down now. It'll be all right." He repeated his words in Spanish, since the horses were used to both languages. He tried to make his voice as soft and reassuring as he could. If they had known they were in eminent danger of being hurt, he had no doubt they would have taken off at the first sound of gunfire. He was thankful that they were well trained.

The prospect that Pony Deal's position would also be exposed, or he might be run over didn't rate more than a fleeting consideration in Johnny's mind. Scott's well-being, followed by his own, was all that occupied his thoughts.

A determined look came into Johnny's deep blue eyes. Enough of this stalemate. It was time to increase the odds in their favor, so the dark-haired ex-gunhawk aimed his gun between the wagon and the horses' rumps, hoping that they wouldn't take that moment to bolt. Obtaining his target, he held his breath and pulled the trigger.

Danny Fleming stopped yelling, but it wasn't because he had been silenced by Johnny's bullet. He had chosen that exact instant to roll away from where he had been lying.

He bit his lip to stop himself from yelling out, as he grabbed the team's long reins, that were now hanging loose, and tried to pull himself up, at least to his knees. He was hoping to put the horses more closely between him and whoever had taken the last shot at him, as well as obtain a better view of who to actually shoot at.

Johnny cursed under his breath at the missed shot. Keeping his eyes trained in Danny's direction, he was ready to fire at him again, if he showed any part of his body.

The youngest Lancer was anxious to check on his brother, but he couldn't afford to turn his back on Danny. He had seen others get themselves killed by making assumptions about being in the clear when they didn't know if the other person was truly out of the action.

He crawled a little farther forward. If he could come even with Danny at the head of the horses, he felt sure he could finish him off and then get to Scott. Johnny tried not to let fear for Scott control his mind, but it was hard.

Johnny pulled himself forward a few more inches. When he looked aorund the horses, he expected to find Danny, but the younger man wasn't there.

Lowering his head, Johnny looked down between the horses' legs, but saw no human legs either.

Marks in the dirt streaked with blood showed where someone had dragged their body around to the side of the building. Johnny cursed again, this time aiming his ire directly at himself. He had let the younger Fleming move out of sight twice now. As a result, he, Scott and Pony were in between the both Flemings, a most dangerous situation.

The team's reins hadn't held Danny's weight, so he had crawled to where he could use the side of the general store to hide himself.

"Pony," Johnny called out, "you got your guy pinned down?"

"Yeah, for now," Pony replied. "Why?"

"The other one has crawled around the side of the building."

It didn't take Pony long to understand the situation. He glanced at Scott. No help coming from him for the time being.

Johnny swore he could hear sniveling coming from Danny's position. "Not so brave now that bullets are coming back at ya, huh, kid?"

All the answer Johnny got back was a gun that come into view.

A shot soon came whizzing past Johnny's head, but it wasn't enough to keep the former gunhawk from taking quick aim and sending another bullet Danny Fleming's way. This one hit the gun and sent it flying away into the dirt. It was accompanied by a yelp from Danny, stung from having the gun shot out of his hand.

With a satisfied smile, Johnny then sent a bullet into the corner of the building to back Danny off in case he was thinking of trying to go for the revolver.

When the Flemings had approached him and Scott after they first got to town, Johnny had taken a very close look at both men. They had each had one pistol visible. He knew he was taking a chance that they wouldn't have had a second one in their boots. They hadn't seemed like the type that would have even thought of backing themselves up that way.

Despite the fact that worry for his brother had already caused him to make two mistakes he normally would never have made, Johnny had to finish Danny off once and for all, and he had to to it now.

Lying quietly and staring at the corner of the building, Johnny was contemplating whether to wait Danny out or go after him. The decision was soon made for him, when the younger Fleming made a dash toward his gun, lying a few feet past the end of the boardwalk.

Johnny wasn't about to make another mistake. He shot Danny in the chest.

Danny didn't make a sound. He stopped moving, as he lay face down in the dirt, his gun mere inches from his outstretched fingers.

Johnny fired two shost at the gun, sending it skittering several feet away and out of Danny's reach. He said a silent good riddance to him and then focused his attention on getting to his brother.

Still being exposed to Roger's position, he stayed on his belly on the boardwalk, trussing that Pony would keep the young man from having an open shot at him.

Maneuvering himself around and moving close to the outer edge of the boards of the walkway beside the wagon, Johnny looked down. Now, he knew why he hadn't heard Scott join in the fight.

Scott was lying on his left side between the boards supporting the walkway and the near-side wagon wheels. He wasn't moving.

Johnny's heart lurched, as he realized his brother was either unconscious or... He shook his head, refusing to finish that thought. Scott must have simply hit his head when he fell, not that that was a minor thing, but as he had thought earlier, it was better than being shot. Of course, one didn't necessarily rule out the other.

TBC