Startled out of a deep sleep Hannibal Heyes sat bolt upright. From his makeshift bed on the floor underneath the window he moved the drapes aside and in the resulting moonlight cast his eyes around the room. Both Jed and Billy appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Nothing looked out of place either. Curious, but also a little troubled as to what could have disturbed him, he took Jed's revolver from under his pillow and slotted it into his waistband. So concerned was he about the situation with the Flyte brothers that, along with arming himself, he had also elected to sleep almost fully clothed.
Barefoot, he crept toward the door. His hand had just reached for the doorknob when there was a loud crash from downstairs. Alarmed, he yanked the door open to see swirls of black smoke curling along the hallway from the direction of the stairs.
"Fire!" he yelled, frantically hammering his fist on each door along the hallway. "Fire!"
Lyla and Lizzie were the first to emerge, each wearing only a flimsy cotton chemise and linen bloomers.
"Saloon's on fire. Take the back stairs," instructed Han. "I'll wait for the others."
"Ain't no back stairs," Lyla informed him.
Han couldn't believe he'd never realised this. "You'll have to climb out the window then."
"Can't do that neither," said Lyla. "Windows are nailed shut. Stops fellas gettin' the idea they can leave without payin'."
Han hesitated then said, "Alright, stay here. I'll go see how bad it is."
Jenny emerged, pulling a robe closely around her and instantly took in the gravity of the situation. "Han, no!" she yelled, but Han was already disappearing down the stairs. He ventured no further than half way, from where he could see flames rapidly spreading across the saloon floor.
Returning to the others he wiped his streaming eyes on his sleeve and croaked, "It's taking hold. We need to go. Jed! Billy! C'mon, get up."
"Billy can't get up, he's..." was all Jed could say before the smoke caught his throat. Clad only in his once white long johns he placed a hand on the door frame for support as he began to cough.
Without hesitation Jenny pushed past him and returned with Billy in her arms. Han moved to take him from her, but Jenny pulled back. "I've got him. Go!"
"Cover your mouth and nose best you can and stay close," said Han. Then, pulling the front of his henley up over his nose, he led the way.
Having reached the bottom of the stairs the group huddled together staring in horror at the saloon, a good portion of which was now ablaze. By some miracle the flames had not yet made contact with the staircase, but having descended safely the small party now needed to find the nearest exit. The way to the kitchen was already cut off so there was nothing for it but to weave their way between the burning tables to the main door.
Whether it was due to the effect of the heat, or the slickness of Han's sweating palms, but the bolt securing the door refused to move. Thinking quickly he grabbed a smouldering chair and hurled it as hard as he could at one of the front windows, shattering the glass together with some of the wooden rails which had held the panes in place.
One by one they carefully climbed out onto the boardwalk and fled to the safety of the street where they sank to their knees, coughing and gasping in the cool night air. Jenny held Billy close, whispering words of comfort while he groaned in pain with each cough.
Having escaped the flames relatively unscathed Han now contemplated the burning building. Knowing that no lamps were ever left burning overnight, and the kitchen stove never contained more than a few dying embers by closing time, he quickly concluded that the fire must have been started deliberately. Except for the window he'd smashed the other appeared to be largely intact, apart from two broken panes. He figured the breaking of the first pane had woken him, the result of a bottle of kerosene with a lit rag stuffed into the neck being thrown through it. The crash he'd actually heard was probably a second bottle. So deep in thought was he that he didn't notice Jed standing beside him until he felt a nudge.
"Lucky escape, huh?" said Jed.
"Hmmm, I'd bet a month's wages this has something to do with Silky going to the law," replied Han. He glanced at the small group in the street expecting to see the man there, but O'Sullivan was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's Silky?" he asked, only to me met by a puzzled silence. "He followed us out, didn't he?"
Shoulders shrugged in reply and Han's heart sank.
"Oh no! He must still be in there!"
"We hafta go get him," urged Jed.
"There's no we about it. I'll go You're gonna stay here." Han's reply was adamant.
"Please don't go back in there either of you; you'll be killed," pleaded Jenny.
"Can't leave him."
Returning to the broken window Han found himself hanging back — the sight and heat of the growing inferno making his courage falter. Jed appeared at his side again.
"I told you, no," Han repeated. "Get back over there with the others where it's safe."
"If you wanna stop me," Jed replied, "you're gonna hafta hog-tie me, and you ain't got time for that."
Not knowing if it was his imagination or the smoke filled air, but Han could swear his cousin's eyes had changed from cornflower blue to a steely grey and held an intensity he had never seen before. Putting this from his mind he replied sternly, "Believe me, I'll make time. You won't be much help with hurt ribs anyway; you'll only slow me down."
"Alright," conceded Jed with a scowl, "but give me that gun. Gunpowder and fire don't mix."
Han had completely forgotten about the revolver he was carrying.
Quickly thrusting it into his cousin's hand he said, "Don't you dare follow me," and climbed back through the window.
"Han!" cried Jed, but his voice was lost in the roar of the fire.
Once inside Hannibal Heyes dodged the ever-expanding flames which appeared to have taken a fierce hold on the liquor-soaked floor near the bar. Even the boards which were not yet alight were now so hot they scorched his bare feet. Making his way to the smouldering staircase he took the steps two at a time.
Driven by the flow of air from the broken windows and with no escape to be had, the smoke was collecting upstairs. Barely able to see through the black, choking fog Han felt his way along the wall, eventually coming to a closed door at the end of the hallway. He tried the knob. The door was locked from the inside.
"Silky! Silky, open up," he yelled as loud as he could before being overcome by a fit of coughing.
When there was no answer Han took a long step back and launched himself at the door, slamming his shoulder into the wood just above the lock. A sharp pain shot through his shoulder and down his arm, but still he repeated it again and again until the lock eventually gave way in a shower of splinters.
The air in the room was already smoky, but before any more of it could follow him in, he spied Silky sprawled on the bed, fully clothed, and still wearing his boots. A bone dry whiskey bottle lay alongside him on the quilt.
Han tapped the man's unshaven face. "Wake up!"
Without opening his eyes Silky slurred, "Wassup?"
When there was no further response Han wasted no time in manoeuvring him to the edge of the bed. Then, having heaved him into a sitting position he pulled one of Silky's arms around his neck and, stumbling a little under the drunken man's weight, made his way back down the hallway. At the top of the stairs a blast of hot air enveloped them and almost took Han's breath away.
Amid the crackle of the flames, he could hear bottles of liquor shattering in the intense heat below. The bottom steps of the staircase were now alight and seeing this Han hesitated, the thought of going through the flames again almost driving him back along the smoky hallway. With every part of his being telling him to just save himself he plunged on downward dragging Silky along with him.
By the time they reached ground level parts of the building's facade had begun to topple, showering the inferno below with chunks of burning wood. Praying that neither he nor Silky would be hit by any falling debris Han made straight for the window. He had almost reached it when there was an ominous crack from above. Looking up Han's watering eyes widened in horror as the front of the building began to lean inward with a stomach-turning groan. Ignoring his screaming lungs he made one last effort and heaved Silky through the window, throwing himself after him to the safety of the street mere seconds before the top of the wall collapsed throwing up a huge shower of burning embers.
In the short time he had been gone, a bucket brigade had now formed in the street, manned by Tucker and his gang plus a few locals awakened by the commotion. They worked tirelessly in a line from the street pump, striving not only to control the fire but also to douse the adjacent buildings before any flying embers caught them alight too.
Staggering across the street Han lowered the drunken man onto the opposite boardwalk, leaning him against the building alongside the two saloon girls and Jenny, who had still not surrendered Billy from her arms.
The soles of Han's bare feet were now starting to blister and his soot covered face was streaked with tears from his streaming eyes. Exhausted, he lay on the ground coughing and retching, the crash of the falling wood and the clang of galvanized buckets ringing in his ears. All he wanted to do was lie there and try to breath, but desperate to know if his cousin had done as he was told and not follow him into the flames, he managed to stop coughing long enough to rasp, "Jed?"
"Beside ya," confirmed Jed grabbing his hand and holding it tight.
Comforted by his cousin's presence Han lay there for a few minutes more, that was until the crack of a single gunshot ripped through the smoky night air. Unsure of the intended target people hurled themselves on the ground.
Face down in the dirt like everyone else Jed hadn't seen the muzzle flash; he'd heard the bullet whiz over his head though. Scrambling to his feet he surveyed the surrounding buildings to see where the slug had ended up. It didn't take long before a splintered scar caught his eye, a mere six inches above Silky's lolling head. Continuing to search the immediate vicinity, this time for the most probable location of the shooter, Jed was soon rewarded by a glimpse of the firelight glinting along the long metal barrel of a six gun as the would-be assassin lined up for another shot.
Instinctively, the boy who would become known as the Fastest Gun in the West, plucked the old Remington revolver from his waistband and fired, bringing forth a yelp of pain from the shadows.
Hannibal Heyes felt as if his world had stood still as he stared open-mouthed at the smoking gun in his cousin's right hand. If he'd thought this night couldn't get any worse, apparently he'd been sorely mistaken.
"Oh God, did you just kill somebody?" he wailed.
"Naw, shot 'em in the wrist is all," answered Jed matter-of-factly.
"How can you know that?"
"'Cause that's what I was aimin' at."