Jack swung around and pointed his pistol at Potter-Perez, who already had hands raised above his head. Without turning, Jack yelled, “Thor, down. Down.”
The dog’s angry barking softened to a threatening growl, and he backed off. His adversary lay silently on the floor, breathing lightly as he bled out and a pool of blood formed about his neck and head. Out of the corners of his eyes, Jack saw Rudy loading his double-barreled shotgun.
Jack said, “Alfonso, you can save some lives if you walk outside with us and tell your people to stand down. In a short time, our riders will be driving horses through here—horses that you have stolen. Over fifty head came from my granddaughter’s ranch since you wondered about my real reason for being here. Those with the turkey track brand.”
“Boss, you okay in there?” came a loud voice. “Heard gunfire over here.”
“Shit,” said Rudy, who slammed the door shut. “Three men out there.”
Thor barked and Jack turned and saw movement at one of the window openings. Someone was just outside the window. “Watch it, Rudy. East window.”
Rudy swung around, ready to squeeze the trigger. A man stepped in front of the window with pistol raised to fire, but before either Jack or Rudy could react, gunshots dropped the would-be killer. Fire continued and seemed to be coming from above the canyon floor. “Throws Lance and his warriors,” Jack said. “Rudy, I’m going to peek outside. Have your shotgun ready when I open the door. It’s quieted some. Alfonso, just keep your hands high and stay put.”
Jack walked over to the door, opened it just a crack, and peered out. “I assume you are the guy that shot Smack. There’s another dead man out front and two more running like jackrabbits away from here.”
Rifle shots erupted again. Jack said, “Correction. Were running, thanks to Throws Lance. Our guys are starting to take some gunfire from the other side of the canyon.”
“We need to get back to the wagons,” Rudy said.
“Yeah. I don’t see Tige and Swede. They must be in the wagon getting set up. Jordy and Abel are under the second wagon. Appears they’re trying to draw fire. We’ve got to take our friend here with us. I don’t know if he’s worth anything in trade or not, but we can’t leave him here.”
Jack pushed the door shut and started to turn when Thor barked and simultaneously a gunshot sounding like a cannon in the small room sent a lead slug into the back of his upper right thigh. Jack stumbled forward but hit the wall and braced his hand against it and recaptured his balance. He realized instantly that Thor had leaped upon the shooter and driven Potter’s arm down to thwart what would otherwise have been a back shot. Potter was screaming now as he tried to fight off the snarling, biting dog and struggled to stay on his feet, no doubt recalling Jorge’s fate after he went down. Jack tried to get a shot, but Thor covered Potter like a blanket.
Potter held onto his pistol, got his gun hand free for an instant and squeezed the trigger. The retort was followed by yelp, but Thor held on, going for his enemy’s face, his long teeth ripping flesh away and Potter’s nose now hanging from one cheek. He dropped his gun, stepped back, his shredded hands grasping for what remained of his face. He went to his knees before he rolled over onto his side in a fetal position, moaning and sobbing. “Help me. Help me,” he cried.
“Down, Thor,” Jack commanded, as he pressed his back to the wall and slid to the floor. The dog backed away from Potter and limped toward Jack, who saw that his friend’s thick coat was blood-soaked, but with whose blood he could not discern.
Rudy walked over to Potter who lay whimpering on the floor beside his desk. “Damn it, Jack,” he said, “this never would’ve happened in the old days. No way would either of us have overlooked the likelihood of a gun in the desk drawer. Wouldn’t have given him a chance at us for even a second. I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t have your back.”
“Don’t blame yourself. I told you to keep your gun pointed at the door.”
“We’re getting too old for these shenanigans, Jack. Look at us. You and me and Thor. Just three old dogs.” He lowered his shotgun, squeezed the trigger and put Alfonso Perez and Amos Potter out of their joint miseries. “We won’t run into him again, unless it’s in hell,” Rudy said.
Rudy hobbled over to Jack, who sat on the floor with his back leaning against the wall and Thor’s head cradled in his lap. A war was raging in the canyon compound outside, but there was not a thing they could do about it right now.
“Let me see the damage,” Rudy said, as he leaned on the shotgun and knelt beside Jack.
“Thor, first,” Jack said. “He’s hit in the upper left foreleg. I think the slug went clean through, but he’s bleeding like a stuck pig. We need to get a tourniquet on it. Give me that kerchief of yours. I can get it tied.”
Rudy untied the kerchief that covered his neck and handed it to Jack, who reached down and worked the kerchief under the dog’s leg and above the gaping hole, snugged it about the leg and tied it. The blood flow ceased instantly. Thor lifted his head and licked Jack’s hand, and Jack rubbed the dog’s ears.
“Let me see what you got,” Rudy said. “It ain’t killed you yet anyhow.”
“Just like Thor. Upper leg wound. Back of my right thigh, no exit wound, so the slug is still there. Hurts like hell, but not that much blood as near as I can tell.”
“Well, the dog’s got to move so I can
