mother while she watched her baby's antics. When Caleb was about
thirty feet away from Cole, he raised his arms and demanded, 'Up, ' in
a roar that echoed down the street.
Mr. Johnson edged up to his knees, swung his Winchester into position,
and fired. The guard dropped. Like a pigeon in a shooting gallery,
York was moving forward one second and dead on the ground the next.
Jessica screamed. York was facedown in the dirt. The bullet had
sliced through his heart, just as Mr. Johnson intended. He never ever
missed.
Jessica fell to her knees and struggled to turn the guard over so that
she could help him. There was blood everywhere. 'Mr. York, ' she
whimpered. 'No . . . no . . . Mr. York . . . ' She reached for the
gun in his holster and had just pulled it out when a shot spit the dirt
up next to her side. She screamed again, dropped the weapon, and then
grabbed hold once again.
'Get down, ' Cole roared to her as he raced forward. The shots were
coming from the roof above the general store, but he couldn't see the
gunman's exact position. He kept shouting at Jessica to get the hell
out of the street, to duck, but she wasn't listening to him.
She squinted up at the roof as she lifted the gun with both hands and
tried to fire. She was shaking so much she almost dropped the gun
again, and when she finally fired, the bullet shattered the glass of
the second-story window.
The sound of gunfire had frightened Caleb, and he was running back to
his mother. 'No, ' Jessica cried out.
Mr. Johnson watched as she ran to intercept her baby. He was toying
with her. He was having such a fine time, he couldn't resist playing
cat with his little mouse. Because he so enjoyed the look of stark
terror on the woman's face, he wanted to prolong the thrill. The boy
had quickly come back into range. That was nice. Mr. Johnson smiled
as he once again considered killing the boy before the mother so that
he could watch her expression. It was bound to be priceless.
She was moving too quickly to suit him. we canpt have that, he thought
with a chuckle as he fired at the ground in front of her. She came to
a dead stop. 'That's better, ' he whispered, but then she was moving
again, and he had to fire at the ground to get her to stop. Dust
sprayed up into her face.
Damned if she didn't start running yet again. God love hert and He
would soon have that opportunity, Mr. Johnson thought, if she went
right to heaven. Was she as pure as she looked? Mr. Johnson
sincerely doubted that. There was no such thing as a pure woman, and
