probably spyin’ from upstairs and gave Powell’s men the high sign as soon as he recognized you. Was that you who fired the pistol?”
Roland nodded. “Yes, but I didn’t hit anything except the wall. One of the men had already grabbed me from behind.” He paused as the rifles continued to roar on both sides of the plaza. “You knew Garity and Powell were going to double-cross you, didn’t you?”
“Figured it was pretty damn likely,” the mountain man acknowledged with a nod.
“So you set things up to double-cross them right back.”
Preacher grinned. “Let’s just say I was ready for trouble.”
The shots died away then, and a moment later Cliff Fawcett called, “Hey, Preacher, I think we got ’em all!”
“What about Powell?”
“Sorry! He ducked back out of sight before anybody could draw a bead on him.”
“That means he’ll go back to the whorehouse and tell Garity what happened,” Roland said. He clutched Preacher’s arm. “They’re liable to kill Casey! We have to stop them!”
Preacher knew the young man was right. “You ready to risk it?” he asked.
“Anything!”
“Then come on.”
Holding the knife, Preacher stood up and ran toward the far side of the plaza. Roland was right behind him.
One of Powell’s men wasn’t dead after all, only wounded. He reared up and thrust a pistol at them. The weapon blasted, but the ball cut through the air between Preacher and Roland. A second later, several rifles roared as the bullwhackers returned the fire, and the would-be killer was thrown backward by the impact of several lead balls slamming into his body.
Preacher and Roland reached the alley where Powell had disappeared. Preacher knew that Lorenzo, Fawcett, and the rest of the men would follow them, but there was no time to wait for their allies. He and Roland had to reach the whorehouse just as fast as they could if they were going to be in time to save Casey. Garity might kill her, or he might decide to try to escape and take her with him.
Santa Fe was honeycombed with streets and alleys that twisted crazily and sometimes abruptly came to unexpected dead ends. Preacher had to rely on his uncanny sense of direction in order to guide him and Roland through the squalid maze. He wasn’t sure if every turn they made was the right one, but suddenly he recognized a landmark and knew Powell’s place was down the street they had just entered.
Preacher grabbed Roland’s arm and pulled him back around the corner. “What are you doing?” the young man demanded frantically. “We’ve got to find Casey!”
“If we go chargin’ up to the front of the place, they’ll be waitin’ for us and gun us down,” Preacher said. “We’ll circle and come in from behind.”
He was keenly aware they had only a knife between them as far as weapons were concerned. He hadn’t wanted to take the time to get anything else, but that also meant they would have to be careful. He led Roland on a circuitous route that took them to the alley running behind the whorehouse.
There was a buggy parked there with a couple horses already hitched to it. As Preacher and Roland paused at the corner of a shed, Egan Powell emerged from the back door of the building and headed for the buggy, carrying a valise. Probably stuffed with money, Preacher thought. Powell was heading for the tall and uncut while the getting was good. The question was whether Garity and Casey would go with him.
The answer wasn’t long in coming. Garity appeared in the back door, dragging a struggling Casey with him. He was having trouble controlling her because he had only one good arm. As she let out an angry cry and almost broke away from him, Garity yelled, “You bitch!” and let go of her to slam a punch into her face, stunning her.
That was more than Roland could stand. Moving too fast for Preacher to grab him, he broke out from behind the shed, shouted, “Bastard!” and raced toward the building.
Powell was placing the valise in the back of the buggy when Roland emerged from cover. He jerked around, grated a curse, and pulled a pistol from under his coat. As he eared back the hammer, Preacher stepped into view and threw the knife.
The expert throw had the weapon revolving once before the blade buried itself deep in Powell’s chest. The man staggered back a step as he pulled the trigger. The shot went into the air over Roland’s head.
Garity saw Roland coming and thrust Casey’s limp body away from him. He pulled a knife from his belt and slashed at Roland with it. Even left-handed, he was swift and deadly with a knife. Roland tried to twist away, but the blade raked across his midsection, slicing his shirt open and drawing blood. He ducked the backhanded slash that Garity swung at him, but he couldn’t avoid the kick that Garity drove into his chest. It sent him sprawling into the alley.
Powell had dropped his empty pistol and fallen to his knees. He pawed futilely at the handle of the knife in his chest. Preacher ripped the blade free as he dashed past. Blood welled from one corner of Powell’s open mouth as he swayed there for a second longer, then toppled forward on his face.
“Garity!” Preacher yelled.
The outlaw swung to face him as Preacher leaped and swung the knife. Sparks flew in the air as steel clashed. The men collided, went down, broke apart and rolled away from each other. Garity reached his feet a second earlier than Preacher did and charged the mountain man, swiping his knife through the air with such ferocity that Preacher had to back up as he barely parried thrust after thrust.
Preacher heard Powell groan behind him. The man might be dying, but he wasn’t dead yet. Powell heaved himself up from the ground and tackled Preacher, wrapping his arms around the mountain’s man knees. With his legs jerked out from under him, Preacher went over backward.
Garity raised the knife high, ready to plunge the blade into Preacher’s chest. Before the blow could fall, Roland hit him from behind. They fell, and all four men tangled on the ground.
