There was nothing Sam could do for the man now, so he wheeled around and charged back out into the street. Matt was across the street in front of the hardware store, which was still burning inside. When both Colts were empty, Matt jammed them back in their holsters and kicked the store’s door open. He ran inside and began looking for something he could use to beat out the flames before they got too big.
Sam crouched on the hotel porch and fired at the raiders as they galloped past until his revolver was empty. Then, instead of reloading, he ran into the hotel again and grabbed the shotgun the proprietor had dropped. A number of shells were still lined up on the counter. The hotelman hadn’t gotten a chance to use them.
Sam snatched the shells and stuffed them into the pocket of his buckskin shirt. He broke open the Greener, saw that only one barrel had been fired, and pulled out that shell to replace it with a fresh one.
Then, even though the man could no longer hear him, he told the proprietor, “I’ll try to put these to good use, sir,” and ran out of the hotel.
Bloody chaos had ensued, filling the town. A score of gunfights were going on, scattered from one end of the street to the other. Only one building seemed to be on fire so far, which was a blessing, but the blaze could still spread.
Sam felt the heat of a bullet against his cheek, and swung around to see who had fired it, lifting the shotgun as he did so. One of the outlaws was almost on top of him, about to trample him under the hooves of a charging horse. At the same time, the man was swinging his gun down for another shot at Sam, just in case.
Sam threw himself out of the way of the horse, but as he was falling he thrust the Greener’s twin barrels at the man and tripped both triggers. With an awesome roar, the shotgun erupted and sent both charges of buckshot smashing into the outlaw. At this range, it almost blew him in half. What fell from the horse and landed in the street near Sam barely looked human anymore.
Sam pulled two more shells from his pocket as he scrambled to his feet. He broke the shotgun, shucked the empties, crammed the fresh shells into the barrels.
“The vengeance of the Lord will be upon you!” someone screamed nearby.
Sam whirled and saw another man on horseback charging toward him, the hatless, long-haired, black-suited hombre who had led the charge into the settlement. Sam raised the shotgun and fired, but at the last second the rider hauled back hard on the reins and caused his mount to rear up on its hind legs. The horse took the blast, not the man riding it. With a shrill scream of agony, the mortally wounded animal toppled over backward, taking its rider with it.
The man sprang agilely out of the saddle, though, and avoided being crushed. As he caught his balance, he jerked two guns from their holsters and raised them toward Sam, who hadn’t had time to reload the shotgun.
The black-coated outlaw wasn’t going to give him the time either. When Sam saw that, he did the only thing he could. He threw the Greener at the man as hard as he could.
The shotgun hit the outlaw in the arms and threw his aim off as the pistols exploded. The bullets whined past Sam as he followed the shotgun. He crashed into the man and bore him over backward, knocking him off his feet. Both men went down.
But Sam landed on top, and as he dug a knee into the man’s belly, he sledged a left and a right to the face. The outlaw went limp, stunned by the powerful blows. Sam plucked the guns from his hands.
He surged to his feet and spun toward the sound of more footsteps running toward him. His fingers were taut on the triggers.
He stopped without firing, though, as he recognized Matt’s face, now grimy from smoke. Behind him, smoke still came from inside the hardware store, but no flames were visible anymore.
“You all right?” Matt asked.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “How about you?”
“Burned my hands a little using a blanket I found to slap out that fire, but other than that I’m fine.”
The shooting had started to die away, and as the blood brothers looked around they saw that the raiders were fleeing, having encountered a lot fiercer resistance in Arrowhead than they must have been expecting. Several bodies were scattered around the street, so not all of the varmints had gotten away.
The one sprawled senseless at Sam’s feet certainly hadn’t. Matt looked down at him and said, “You know who you’ve got there?”
“Joshua Shade?” Sam said.
“That’d be my guess. He’s dressed like a preacher, and he sure had a crazy look about him when he was leadin’ the charge into town.”
Clouds of powder smoke still drifted through the street. Sheriff Cyrus Flagg emerged from one of them and ran up to Matt and Sam, the long nightshirt still flapping around his legs. He was wearing his plug hat now, too.
“You boys all ri—” he started to ask, then stopped short as he stared down at the stunned man. “Son of a
“Joshua Shade?” Matt and Sam said in unison.
Flagg swallowed hard and nodded. “It sure is.” He blinked in amazement. “You boys not only saved our town, you just captured the most notorious owlhoot in the whole territory!”
Chapter 9
Matt and Sam each took an arm and hauled Joshua Shade to his feet. They half carried, half dragged the outlaw down the street to the sheriff’s office and jail.
They wanted to make sure that Shade was locked up securely before they did anything else.
Shade began to regain his senses as they entered the squat, solidly constructed stone building. He groaned and shook his head, causing the long brown hair to flop in front of his narrow face.
