William Johnstone - Blood Bond - Deadly Road to Yuma

The sheriff thought for a second, then said, “Spread out all over town. Bang on doors and tell folks to get ready, if they ain’t already. Make it quick, though, and then hunt some cover. It won’t be long until Shade and his bunch are here, I reckon.”

“We’ll give those owlhoots a lot hotter welcome than they’re expectin’!” one man said.

Sam wasn’t so sure of that. Even up in the hills, Shade might have heard the shots and realized that the townspeople were aware of the threat.

Would that be enough to make him call off the attack?

Sam didn’t know, and the citizens of Arrowhead couldn’t afford to take that chance. They had to be as ready for trouble as they could get in the next few minutes…because it was probably already on the way.

More than forty strong, the gang swarmed down out of the hills with Joshua Shade in the lead. He was bare-headed, and the wind whipped his longish hair around his lean face.

Beside him rode his second-in-command, a heavily mustached outlaw named Willard Garth. As they galloped toward Arrowhead, Garth raised his voice and asked, “What about those shots we heard, Joshua? You think they know we’re comin’?”

“It doesn’t matter, Brother Willard,” Shade replied. “The Lord has told me that tonight is the night we need to deliver His message to that sinful town up ahead, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do!”

“And clean out the bank while we’re at it, eh, Boss?” Garth said with a wolfish grin.

“It takes money to do the Lord’s work!” Shade said, then gave a maniacal howl of laughter.

Even if the settlers knew they were coming, it wouldn’t matter. There wouldn’t be time for them to mount an effective defense before the raiders were right on top of them. The gang still had enough of an element of surprise, even if the men sent into town to kill the lookouts had been discovered.

Besides, Shade and Garth knew that the citizens of Arrowhead didn’t represent any real danger. They were storekeepers, blacksmiths, and clerks. There might be a few tough cowboys from the nearby ranches in the saloons, but when you stopped to think about it…

Just how many real fighting men could there be in a place like this anyway?

Sam was about to go looking for Matt when he spotted his blood brother running along the street toward the hotel. Matt reached the porch and bounded up onto it.

“I suppose you were responsible for those shots I heard a couple of minutes ago?” Sam said.

Matt grinned humorlessly. “Who else?”

“What about the lookout on top of the bank?”

“Dead,” Matt said as even the bleak grin disappeared. “Throat cut just like the other fella. Poor son of a bitch probably died before he even knew what was goin’ on.” He looked around at the men running here and there in the street as they got ready for the attack. “Looks like you did a good job spreadin’ the word.”

“It’s not that hard to do with shots going off.” Sam jerked his head toward the hotel lobby. “Come on. It’ll take Shade a few minutes to get here. We’ve got time to get dressed and get the rest of our guns.”

“Good idea,” Matt agreed. “I feel half naked with only one Colt.”

“You are half naked,” Sam pointed out as they went into the hotel. “So am I.”

“What’d I tell you?”

They hurried through the lobby, getting spare keys from the hotel owner as they did so since the doors of their rooms were locked and the keys were inside with the rest of their gear. The proprietor was standing behind the desk, lining up shotgun shells on top of it. He was a mild-looking little man, but his voice held a note of fierceness as he explained, “If any of those owlhoots get in here, I’ll give them a buckshot reception!”

“Well, nobody can say you’re not hospitable,” Matt told him.

A minute after he and Sam entered their rooms, they emerged into the hallway again, stamping their feet to settle them in their boots. The blood brothers were dressed now, had their hats on, and their gunbelts strapped around their waists. Each carried a fully loaded Winchester.

“We’d better take the high ground while we can,” Matt said. “You want the hotel or the bank?”

“Let’s both take the hotel,” Sam suggested. “If the gang was holed up in the hills, they’ll reach this end of town first. Might be a good idea to pull the ladder up once we’re up there, too. We can always let it back down after the fight’s over.”

“Assumin’ we’re still alive,” Matt said.

“I always assume that.”

They went out the back door of the hotel this time. The ladder was still there in the alley, propped against the wall. Matt went up first, and as he reached the top of the ladder and swung a leg over onto the roof, he heard something that sounded a little like distant thunder.

Hoofbeats. A large group of riders was galloping toward Arrowhead, and the men weren’t far off now.

Sam was right behind him, and he heard the hoofbeats as well as he stepped onto the roof. “Sounds like a big bunch.”

“Yeah,” Matt agreed. He trotted over to the front of the building, looked down, and saw Sheriff Flagg in the street. Cupping his free hand next to his mouth, Matt called, “Better get inside, Sheriff! Here they come!”

Flagg waved his Winchester in acknowledgment of the warning and hurried toward the sheriff’s office. Matt and Sam stood at the edge of the roof, peering northward into the darkness.

“You see ’em?” Matt asked after a moment.

“Not yet,” Sam replied, “but they’re coming. The hoofbeats are louder now.”

Matt looked down again. The street was pretty much clear now, the townspeople having scattered to hunt cover. He worked the Winchester’s lever, jacking a cartridge into the rifle’s firing chamber.

“Let ’em come,” he said.

Chapter 8

Matt and Sam moved to the corners of the hotel fronting the street and knelt behind the little wall. It wouldn’t provide much cover, but it was better than nothing.

The hoofbeats still sounded like thunder, but now it was as if the storm was about to roll into the town. Torches suddenly flared to life in the hands of some of the approaching riders, and from the intensity of the flames, Matt and Sam knew that the torches had been soaked in pitch.

“Drop those men with the torches!” Matt called to Sam. “They’re gonna try to set the town on fire!”

As the outlaws reached the end of Main Street and began to sweep into the settlement, the blood brothers opened fire, concentrating their shots on the men wielding the torches. With each crack of a Winchester, one after another of Shade’s men fell, dropping the torches to be snuffed out in the dust of the road.

The raiders returned the fire, sending a hail of lead from their six-guns at the hotel roof. Matt and Sam were forced to duck as the bullets chewed at the wall.

Then the outlaws raced on past the hotel as more gunfire began to erupt up and down the street. The town’s defenders were shooting from the cover of the buildings, but they didn’t seem to be doing much damage, Matt saw as he poked his head up again.

A bare-headed man in a long black coat whirled his horse and galloped back to the spot where one of the torches had fallen. It was still burning, and scarcely slackening his mount’s speed, the man bent down from the saddle, reached out with a long arm, and snatched the torch from the ground. He whirled it over his head and threw it at the window of a hardware store as he dashed past. The window shattered under the impact, and the torch landed inside.

Matt bit back a curse as he looked through the broken window and saw flames leaping up. He snapped a shot at the man who had thrown the torch, thinking that he might be Joshua Shade. Whether that was true or not, Matt’s bullet missed as the man jerked his horse around and headed down the street again.