streets. He had cleaned his old Navy Colt every day since then, and now he had a chance to use it. He’d been standing in a doorway, watching the action, and now he stepped out and raised his gun…
Sam would have preferred to turn as soon as he fired, but he had to make sure that Coffin would go down. As the man started to fall he turned, saw Chuck Conners fall, and leaped for cover just as Lincoln Burkett shouted his command to his men.
Sam noticed right away that not all of Burkett’s men had obeyed his command. He also noticed that there was some covering fire coming from different directions. With a glance he identified Dude Miller and Ed Collins. He didn’t find out until later that Swede Hanson had also been firing.
Lincoln Burkett also noticed these things. He especially noticed that less than half of his men had obeyed his command.
He didn’t like the odds.
He ran up onto the boardwalk, behind his men, and started running down the street.
“Sam!” Jubal shouted. He had taken cover behind a horse trough and was now pointing at the retreating figure of Lincoln Burkett.
“I’ll get him!”
Sam got to his feet and fired as he ran. He stayed on his side of the street, passing Jubal, until he was clear of the jail and Burkett’s men, and then he crossed the street and took up the chase.
He reloaded as he ran, keeping Burkett in sight ahead of him. Burkett, at his age, would normally not have been able to stay ahead of Sam, but Sam’s leg wound kept him from running at full speed.
The thing that worked in Sam’s favor was that Burketthad chosen a direction that was away from everything.
He was running away from the livery, and the saloon, he was even running away from his ranch, which was south of town rather than north. This indicated that the man wasn’t running toward anything, he was simply trying to get “away.”
That wouldn’t happen, Sam swore to himself. Not by a long chalk.
He ignored the burning pain in his thigh and increased his speed. He was closing the gap between himself and Burkett. Burkett saw this as he looked over his shoulder, and he panicked. Gun in hand he turned and fired at Sam, but his shot was so hurried that he missed by a wide margin.
Sam saw the man riding down Main Street just as Burkett fired at him, and he saw the badge on the man’s chest. The appearance of the man slowed his reaction, and Burkett fired again. This time the bullet fell short, kicking up dirt in front of Sam’s feet. This reclaimed Sam’s attention and he fired once, accurately. The bullet hit Lincoln Burkett high on the right shoulder. It was an unhurried shot, because it was obvious that Burkett was inept with a gun, therefore it was a well-placed shot. Burkett’s hand opened and the gun fell to the ground. He went to one knee, clutching at his shoulder.
Sam reached him just as the man on horseback did.
“Marshal Carson?” Sam said, looking up at the lawman.
“That’s right,” Carson said. He was a burly man in his thirties, with a heavy mustache and steely eyes. “Are you Sam McCall?”
“That’s right.”
“And this man?”
“This man is the reason I sent for you, Marshal.”
The sound of firing was still clear from down the street but had fallen off some.
“Seems I arrived a little late,” the marshal said.
“No, marshal,” Sam said, looking down at Lincoln Burkett, “you arrived just in time”
Epilogue
With the arrival of the federal lawman, activity died down. The men who had lowered their rifles to watch now scrambled for their horses, not wanting to be involved any further if it meant jail.
Jubal, with the help of Dude Miller, Ed Collins, and Swede Hanson, had done a pretty fair job on those of Burkett’s men who had agreed to fight for their boss’that is, until they saw him hightailing it out of there. A few of them lay dead or wounded on the street, and the others had thrown down their guns. They weren’t fighting any more for a man who had lit out.
Burkett and his men were taken to the jail, where they were stuffed into cells. Doc Leader was sent for to see to the wounded ones.
The marshall’s horse was taken to the livery stable for him as he entered the sheriff’s office. With him there were Sam, Jubal, Dude Miller, Serena, and Ed Collins.
Marshal Frank Carson seated himself behind the sheriff’s desk and pinned his eyes on Sam.
“Are you the sheriff here?”
“Not elected, or appointed—”
“Then I’d appreciate it if you would take off that badge.” Carson looked at Jubal and said, “That goes for you, too.”
“Yes, sir.”
They both removed the badges and set them down on the desk.
“Who are you people?” Carson asked, looking at the others.
Dude Miller made the introductions.
“Where’s the sheriff?”
“We don’t have one at the moment,” Miller said.
“The mayor, then?”
“I suspect he’s hiding underneath his desk,” Ed Collins said.
“Do any of you people sit on the Town Council?”
“No,” Miller said, “they wouldn’t have Ed and me.”
“Why not?”
“We wouldn’t kowtow to Lincoln Burkett.”
“Burkett…” Carson looked at Sam. “That’s the man you shot as I was ridin’ in, right?”
“Right.”
“What’s his position in the town?”
They all started talking at once, and Carson waved his hand for them to quiet down.
“Ma’am, for no other reason than that you’re the prettiest one here, why don’t you try tellin’ me what this is all about?”
“From the beginning?”
Carson frowned and asked, “How far back are we goin—?”
“Pretty far back,” Serena said.
Carson sighed and signaled for her to begin. He didn’t have anything else to do at the moment.
While Serena explained to the marshal everything that Lincoln Burkett had done since he’d arrived, Jubal made coffee and set a cup at the marshal’s elbow. The man acknowledged him with a nod of thanks.
From there Serena went on to explain what had happened to Joshua and Miriam McCall, and then everything since the arrival of Sam, Evan, and Jubal.
“Where is Evan McCall?” Carson asked.
“He’s dead,” Sam said. “Burkett had him killed by a man named Coffin.” He didn’t bother telling the lawman that John Burkett had had Evan killed. To Sam it was all the same.
At Coffin’s name the marshal perked up.
“I know that name. Where is Coffin?”
“Sam killed him,” Dude Miller said.
“Outdrew him clean,” Jubal said.
Carson looked at McCall and said, “Well, I guess you’re everything your friend Murdock said you were.”
“I hope not” Sam mumbled, and drank some coffee.
