Death In Helltown by John Legg Read Free Book Online Page B

arms.
    Sweating, he crawled across the top of the wildly lurching wagon. He finally gained the box. Adcock was slumped on the floor of the box, and Bloodworth had to strain to push him out of the way a little. He was surprised when Adcock moaned and made a small effort to help. Bloodworth breathed a sigh of thanks that the reins were still loosely wrapped around the brake handle. He grabbed them and pulled hard on them, straining, feet braced against the box front. After a few minutes, he had slowed the horses enough to where he could control them somewhat with one hand, while yanking on the brake with the other.
    He finally managed to bring the animals to a halt. Breathing heavily, he sat for a moment, then began the slow arduous process of turning the stage around. “You all right?” he asked, looking down at Adcock.
    The driver’s face was pale and screwed up in pain. “No, dammit.”
    “Hang on.” Though the horses were lathered, he slapped the reins on them and got them running again, and once more had trouble bringing them to a stop, but he did so not far from where the passengers were huddled around a couple of bodies. With barely a glance at Adcock, Bloodworth hurriedly climbed down and limped over to the group, which parted for him, silent and stunned.
    “Ah, lord,” he whispered. “Goddamn, son of a bitch.” He knelt at Edith’s side, and took one of her limp hands in his. Her chest was covered in blood. He slid a hand across her eyes, closing them. Rage held back his tears.
    He pushed himself slowly to his feet. “How did this happen?” he asked tightly, looking from face to face. All turned their heads away from him. “How the hell did this happen?” he roared.
    One of them women looked at him, her face covered in dirt and tears. “I…I…I wanted to keep the necklace my late husband gave me. And, well, Mr. Judd there, he tried to stop that man from…”
    Bloodworth whirled. “So you pulled a pocket gun?” Bloodworth demanded, his voice tight with rage. He stepped up and grabbed the man from the front of his frock coat and jerked him forward. “Is that what you did, you stupid son of a bitch?” he screamed, face inches from Judd’s, so close that spittle landed on the man’s face.
    Judd blanched, terror springing into his eyes. “I was just…just…trying to…”
    “You got her killed, you dumb bastard!” He shoved Judd away and then smashed a fist into his face. Judd staggered back, then fell. Bloodworth pounded Judd. He grabbed Judd’s shirtfront again and pulled him up a foot or so and continued to hammer Judd, who tried to cover himself up with little success.
    “Harlan!” someone yelled, but Bloodworth ignored him. “Harlan!”
    Two passengers struggled to pull Bloodworth away, but it was only Adcock’s third bellow of Bloodworth’s name that finally got him to stop. He turned, eyes beginning to focus again. “I thought you was dead, Gil,” he said, breath coming hard to him.
    “Damn near.” He lurched forward, and put a hand on Bloodworth’s shoulder. “There’s work to be done, Harlan. We need to get Miz Wickline back to Dodge to be taken care of.” He tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. “And I need tendin’.”
    Jaw clenched in fury still, Bloodworth gave a short nod. He knelt and easily lifted Edith. “Somebody get the coach door,” he ordered.
    The woman who had spoken, pale and still teary, rushed over and did so. Bloodworth gently laid Edith’s body on one of the bench seats.
    “You’ll have to drive, Harlan,” Adcock said.
    “Can you get up in the box?”
    “Ain’t likely. It took all I got to get down. I sure as hell ain’t got the strength to climb up there.”
    “Then get on in here,” he said, indicating the coach. “The rest of you can fit in where you will, the three ladies on the seats. You,” he pointed at one man, a young fellow, who had the appearance of a workman, “can ride on top. And you,” he pointed to another, one