line was definitely drawn in the sand now, Frank thought, and he and Grimshaw were on different sides of it.

As long as the men weren’t threatening Nancy, he could afford to wait, so that was what he did. A half hour went by. The sun began to grow warm as it rose higher in the sky. Here on the edge of the timber, Frank could actually feel its rays.

Movement caught his eye, and he lifted his head to see a man riding out of the trees on the far side of the clearing, heading toward the cabin. Right away, Frank recognized the newcomer as Jack Grimshaw. Anger surged up inside him. Jack had always taken the easy way out, and now that tendency had put them on opposite sides, so that Frank might easily wind up having to kill him.

Or maybe Jack would kill him, Frank mused. Grimshaw was a tough man, a good man with a gun. He had never been anywhere near as fast on the draw as Frank, but in a gunfight, you never could tell for sure what was going to happen.

The other men saw Grimshaw coming, and gathered around Nancy Chamberlain to wait for him. As Grimshaw rode up and brought his horse to a stop, one of the men asked, “Well, what’s it gonna be?”

“The girl said her horse was over in the trees,” Grimshaw replied. “Somebody go and find it. She’ll need a mount. We’re takin’ her back to her father’s mansion.”

The square-faced man said, “Why the hell are we doin’ that?”

“Those are the boss’s orders,” Grimshaw said. “He’s gonna meet us there.”

The glance he shot at Nancy Chamberlain told Frank that there was more to it than that, however. Bosworth wouldn’t be returning Nancy to her father without something else in mind, some sort of double cross. Maybe he intended to hold her hostage until Chamberlain agreed to give up this stretch of prime timber.

But if that were the case, then Bosworth couldn’t afford to let any of the witnesses live afterward. Frank’s eyes narrowed as he thought about that. This was the showdown, he realized. Bosworth’s finishing stroke that would wipe out his competition once and for all.

And it was up to Frank to prevent it.

He slid back away from the edge of the ridge as down below the group of gunmen got ready to ride. He had to get to Chamberlain’s mansion to stop whatever Bosworth had planned. It would be easier, though, if he had some help. If he could get Wilcox and the other loggers, maybe some more men from Chamberlain’s crews, and reach the bizarre redwood mansion before Bosworth had time to launch his scheme, he might still be able to save Nancy and ruin Bosworth’s plans. When he was well out of sight of Grimshaw and the other killers, he stood up and jogged toward the spot where he had left Stormy and Goldy. Dog was at his side.

The big cur stopped suddenly and growled. Frank tensed and looked around. Ben Chamberlain was still roaming around out here somewhere, he reminded himself, and in Ben’s current state, there was no telling what he might do.

But it wasn’t Ben who stepped out from behind three of the massive trees and leveled rifles at Frank, though. It was Erickson and his two monster-hunting partners. Erickson said, “Hold it, Morgan! Make a move and we’ll fill you full of lead!”

Then he grinned and added, “Of course, it don’t really matter—because we’re gonna kill you anyway!”

Chapter 26

Frank stood absolutely still. They had him boxed in, covered from three angles. The Winchester was in his hands, with a bullet in the chamber. All he had to do was point it and pull the trigger. He knew he could get one of them before they ever got lead in him. He might even be able to drop two of them.

But the third man would tag him. No doubt about that. Frank figured he would live long enough to kill that hombre, too. But he might not live to stop Bosworth from whatever he was planning to do to Nancy and her father.

“Is this about that bounty on the Terror?” Frank asked. It might be a good idea to keep Erickson talking.

“Damn right. With you out of the way, it’ll be twenty thousand dollars. That’s more money than I’ve ever seen in my life, Morgan.”

Frank shook his head. “You’ll never collect a penny of it. Rutherford Chamberlain’s not going to pay off on his own son.”

“His son?” Erickson repeated with a frown. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“The Terror. He’s really Ben Chamberlain.”

“You’re crazy! The Terror’s some sort of monster!”

“No, he’s not,” Frank insisted. “He’s just a young man who had something terrible happen to him. I don’t know what it was just yet, but I plan to find out.”

Erickson shook his head. “You’re wastin’ your breath. I don’t believe a word of it.” The barrel of his rifle came up a little. “Say your prayers, Morgan—”

Ben stepped out from behind the same tree where Erickson had been lying in wait for Frank. He reached out and closed his massive hands around Erickson’s head. Erickson started to scream, but it was choked off as Ben twisted hard.

Frank was already moving, pivoting toward the man on his left. From the corner of his eye, he saw a fountain of blood and something flying through the air, something with long red hair attached to it, but then he saw only the target in front of his gun. The Winchester cracked, and the second gunman spun off his feet without getting a shot off as the slug drilled cleanly through his chest.

The third man managed to fire a couple of frenzied shots before Dog flashed across the open space and crashed into him, knocking him over backward. The man had barely started to scream when the big cur’s fangs sank into his throat and ripped it open. Arms and legs spasmed as the man died.

The fight had taken only seconds. Frank quickly checked the man he had shot and found that he was dead.

Вы читаете The Last Gunfighter
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату
×