Matt, Sam, Barnabas, and the others.
That tornado was big enough to wipe out Cottonwood and everybody in it, Matt knew, but he couldn’t allow himself to think about that now. All he wanted was a chance to square off against Kane, Porter, and Grady. Sam felt the same way. Finish the fight, then worry about the twister.
Kane had ducked back into the house. He emerged now holding Frankie Harlow. Porter came next with Hannah clutched in front of him as a human shield. Grady brought up the rear with an arm around Prudence Berger. All three men opened fire on the charging Matt and Sam.
They had reckoned without the fighting spirit that burned inside all three women. Suddenly, they found themselves trying to hold on to a trio of wildcats. Frankie twisted around and slammed a fist into Kane’s throat, while Hannah clawed at Porter’s face. Prudence brought the heel of her shoe down hard on Grady’s foot, making him howl in pain.
Matt and Sam never slowed down, even when slugs were whipping around their heads. They hurdled the fence around the doctor’s front yard, bounded across the grass, and leaped onto the porch, crashing into the knot of struggling figures there. Guns flew out of fingers, and suddenly it was a hand-to-hand battle. Matt smashed his fist into Cimarron Kane’s face while Sam tackled Ambrose Porter and rolled across the porch with him.
Linus Grady was the only one who slipped away. He leaped off the porch and tried to run, only to find himself facing Marshal Coleman, who had freed himself from the cell and finally caught up to the others. Coleman had Bickford’s gun in his hand, and as Grady took a shot at him, Coleman fired. Grady staggered back a step as the marshal’s bullet drove into his body. He tried to lift his gun for another shot, but Coleman fired first. This time Grady went down as the lead ripped through his body.
The wind howled now as it rushed into the deadly, whirling funnel cloud. The few survivors of the gang tried to flee, but they were cut off by Thurman Harlow and his four sons, who had reached Cottonwood just ahead of the storm and were drawn to the far end of town by the gunshots. The two crooked deputies were already dead, so it was Harlows against Kanes in a fierce exchange of shots. Alf and Dex Harlow were hit but stayed on their feet. One by one, the Kanes went down, riddled by Harlow lead. The rivalry between the families had finally come to a bloody end.
Almost.
Cimarron Kane was still alive. He crashed a fist into Matt’s jaw and knocked the younger man aside. Kane reached for one of the fallen guns, but Frankie picked up a revolver and fired, the bullet burning a fiery line across Kane’s forearm. He cursed and rolled off the porch, then broke into a run as Matt scrambled up and went after him.
Meanwhile, Sam and Porter were still struggling. Porter had managed to get on top and pin Sam to the porch. His hands were locked around Sam’s throat, trying to squeeze the life out of him. Sam brought his cupped hands up and slapped them hard against Porter’s ears. Porter yelled in agony as his eardrums burst. Sam was able to buck him off. Porter rolled away and came up in a stumbling run. He wasn’t far behind Kane as both men reached the street.
They turned first to their left, only to find that direction blocked by the grim-faced Harlows, along with Barnabas Smith and the other former prisoners. Chests heaving, the two men looked the other direction along the street. The twister was almost on top of Cottonwood now, and if they went that way, they would be running right into its hungry maw.
Matt and Sam came to a stop about twenty feet away from Kane and Porter. “What’s it gonna be?” Matt shouted, raising his voice to be heard over the storm.
“You afraid to go down fightin’, Bodine?” Kane yelled back.
Matt turned and motioned to the Harlows, who were looking increasingly nervous as the tornado bore down on the town in its slow, steady, inexorable fashion. “We need four guns,” he said to Thurman Harlow.
“Son, we all better hunt a hole to hide in!” Harlow warned with a nod toward the twister.
“Not until this is over!” Matt insisted. Sam nodded in grim agreement.
“Give ’em your guns!” Harlow told his sons. The young men passed the revolvers to Matt and Sam.
Quickly, they checked the cylinders. Each gun had at least two rounds left in it. They turned and tossed two of the revolvers into the street near Kane and Porter.
“You’ll gun us down as soon as we reach for them!” Porter protested.
“Nope, it’ll be a fair fight,” Matt said. Behind the blood brothers, everybody was scattering, trying to find a place to ride out the storm. Over by the doctor’s house, Coleman and Dr. Berger were getting as many people as possible into the cellar underneath the house. Frankie and Hannah didn’t want to go, but their fathers forced them through the open door and down the steps into the cellar.
The tornado had almost reached the far end of the street. “Now or never!” Matt shouted at Kane and Porter.
The two men dived for the guns, snatching them out of the street. Porter rolled to the side and came up in a crouch, his gun belching flame as he fired at Sam, while Kane stood straight and blazed away at Matt. The blood brothers stood their ground as well, the revolvers roaring and bucking against their palms as they squeezed off a pair of shots apiece.
Both of Sam’s bullets punched into Porter’s chest and knocked him over backwards. He landed with his arms outflung as blood bubbled from the holes in his body.
Kane staggered as Matt’s slugs hit him, but he didn’t fall. He kept pulling the trigger, even after the hammer was falling harmlessly on empty chambers. Then crimson welled from his mouth and the gun slipped from his fingers. He took a step forward and pitched onto his face.
Matt and Sam were left standing in the middle of the street, watching as the twister bore down on them. It was too late to run now, even though Coleman was yelling at them to do so from the cellar door.
The three of them were the only ones alive to see what happened next. They watched in amazement as the twister struck the abandoned livery barn where Ike Loomis had his secret saloon. The old building exploded into splinters and kindling as the ferocious winds tore it apart.
But that was the only damage the tornado did. With the capriciousness of nature, the funnel cloud lifted into the air, passing over the rest of Cottonwood. The terrible roar suddenly died away and left an eerie silence behind
