One-Man Massacre by Jonas Ward Read Free Book Online Page B

persuasive than I am," Neale said to Buchanan.
    "No," Rosemarie answered for him. "It was I who did the persuading."
    Neale didn't take that explanation very well at all.
    "Live in the Big Bend, Buchanan?" he asked.
    "Nope. Just dropped down for a couple hours."
    "Dropped down? From where?"
    "The mountains," Buchanan told him vaguely. "Fact is," he said, turning to Rosemarie, "I better be starting back."
    "Oh, no! There're still a lot more dances."
    "My partner' ll be looking for me bright and early."
    "But we're having such a good time! You mustn't leave now."
    "What are you doing in the mountains?" Neale asked, more nettled-sounding each time he spoke. "Living by the skin of my teeth."
    "So it looks. They tell me there's supposed to be gold up there."
    "I wouldn't say that —"
    "Psst! Laddie!" a sharp voice beckoned. "Big fella- over here!"
    Buchanan swung to see Angus Mulchay motioning to him excitedly from a side door.
    "What is it, Tom?" Rosemarie asked anxiously.
    "Don't know," he said and went to the old man.
    "Clear out while you can, son. Black Jack Gibbons is coming in the front door with a gang of 'em."
    "Gang of what?"
    "Murderers —and you're their meat if they corner you in this box!"
    "Oh, Tom —look!" Rosemarie cried*at his shoulder and Buchanan saw eight men with guns already drawn, eight pairs of eyes scanning the room. A woman spotted them and uttered a piercing scream. The fiddler's bow stopped in mid-note, dismayingly, and then all was quiet.
    "Run for it, Tom!" Rosemarie urged him. "They haven't seen you yet."
    "Hell, they wouldn't shoot . . ."
    "You're wrong, man, wrong!" Mulchay told him. "You're no more to that crew than a stray dog. Take this," he said, passing over the gun, "and make a break —"
    "Over there!" Rig Gruber shouted. "By the door!"
    "Move away from him, girl!" Jack Gibbons com manded in a strong voice. "You, too, old man, unless you want to die beside him!"
    "Hold it, mister," Buchanan called to him. "Whatever this quarrel's about, let's get it outside."
    "We like you just as you stand," Gibbons answered harshly. "Just move out from behind those skirts!"
    "No!" Rosemarie cried, throwing her arms around Buchanan. "No!" she cried again, defiantly.
    Gruber had been sighting the shot for ten seconds. Now he triggered it, and with the roaring crash of the six-gun Buchanan felt a jarring blow at his collarbone, a searing pain. He spun the girl out of the fire line, not gently, and with anger sparking every new move, he wheeled and drove three slugs into the crouching Gruber —fatal punishment for the cynical chance the gunman had taken with Rosemarie's innocent life.
    "Watch the girl!" Gibbons was shouting above the awful melee, and Kersh and the man beside him opened fee heedlessly. Something burned into the flesh of Bu c hanan's thigh and his right arm was suddenly turning n u mb.
    "Run for it, man, run!" Angus Mulchay pleaded. "This way —" and Buchanan turned his broad back to the fight, made it through the doorway and staggered out into the night like some drunk. The door was slammed shut be hind him and then it was very dark in the alley.
    "Can ye move, lad?" Mulchay asked at his side. "Can ye make it to Ferguson's house?"
    "Take care of yourself, friend. Those sons of bitches hold life damn cheap."
    "I'm next, anyhow, so follow me now if ye can!"
    It was such a frustrating thing. His mind was clear- purged by the rage that was whipping it —and his eyes made out the slender little man moving ahead of him. But nothing else responded to his will. From the shoul ders down, his whole body was sluggish, tiredly disobe dient—and with no warning at all his bleeding right leg buckled beneath him.
    "Get up, boy! Try! Can't ye hear them coming around the front?"
    Buchanan used the side of the wall to regain his feet again, used it once more to make his way forward.
    "He's in there!" shouted a voice that was becoming rag gedly familiar. "This time," Gibbons ordered, "get him!"
    Buchanan