Ralph Compton - Death Rides a Chestnut Mare

“Look out, cowboy,” a voice shouted.

Danielle went down on her left side, rolling off the boardwalk into the dusty street as shots ran out. She drew her right-hand Colt as she fell and, belly-down, began returning fire. But her assailant was firing from cover, the slugs kicking up dust all around her. Lead splintered the hitch rail over her head, while others slammed into the front wall of a store that had not yet opened for the day. It was a shoot-or-be-shot situation, and Danielle’s only hope lay in rooting the bushwhacker out into the open. He had a Henry or a Winchester, for slugs kept coming, screaming closer with each volley. Danielle rolled to her knees and sprang to her feet. She ran, zigzagging her way toward the gunman’s position. From the powder smoke, she found him firing from the window of a vacant building that faced the street. Danielle fired twice, and her lead came close enough to spook the bushwhacker. The firing from the window ceased. Danielle reloaded and holstered her Colt. The girl who had warned her stood fearfully in a doorway.

“I’m obliged to you,” Danielle said. “I don’t suppose you know who that was.”

“Reece McCandless,” said the girl. “He’s been telling everybody who will listen that he intends to kill you.”

“He won’t if I kill him first,” Danielle said. “What’s your name?”

“Mary,” said the girl. “If you kill him, old Simon McCandless will have every gunman in town after you. You’d better ride away while there’s still time.”

“When I’m ready, Danielle said, “and I’m not ready.”

She continued along the boardwalk until she was across the street from the old house to which she had followed the two outlaws the night before. It would be far simpler if Kalpana came to them, she thought. Otherwise, she might have to trail them across the border. Danielle took up a position behind a vacant building. From there she could observe the stairway to the second floor of the house across the street. When the duo finally left, Danielle followed them, only to find they had gone out for breakfast. Finished, they returned to their room and Danielle saw no more of them the rest of the day. Not being in a mood for further conversation with the Delaneys, she returned to the American Saloon, where her trouble with McCandless had begun. It was barely dark outside, but the place seemed unusually crowded. Sheriff Sam Duro was there, and to her surprise, so was Reece McCandless. It was he who was shouting angrily.

“Damn you, I’ll have your badge for this. I’ve been here all afternoon, and I got plenty of witnesses to prove it.”

“Maybe,” said Sheriff Duro, “but somebody slit that girl’s throat, and I can’t think of anybody with more reason than you.”

“Whose throat’s been slit?” Danielle asked.

“Mary,” said a bystander. “You saved her from McCandless last night.”

It was more than Danielle could stand. She approached Reece McCandless, and everybody backed away, including Sheriff Duro. When she spoke, her voice was like ice.

“You’ve been threatening to kill me, and you tried to back-shoot me this morning. All that saved me was Mary’s shouted warning, and you got even with her for that, didn’t you?”

“I don’t have to answer your damn questions,” McCandless said. “You ain’t the law.”

“No,” said Danielle, “and for that reason, I only have to answer to my own conscience. I hear you’ve been threatening to kill me, and I’m going to offer you the chance. But this time you won’t be under cover, trying to shoot me in the back. It’s light enough outside. I’ll meet you in the street.”

“I won’t do it,” McCandless bawled. “I didn’t shoot you this morning, and I ain’t said nothin’ about shootin’ you.”

“The hell you ain’t,” a salty-looking bystander said.

There were shouts of agreement from other men, and not liking the turn the situation was taking, Sheriff Duro yelled for quiet. Then he spoke to Danielle.

“You can’t accuse a man of trying to bushwhack you without evidence, and you have only your suspicions. Get out of here and go about your business.”

“I’m getting out,” Danielle said, “but McCandless has threatened to kill me. Now I aim to offer him the satisfaction of doing just that if he’s man enough to face me.”

It became an intolerable situation for Reece McCandless as men shouted their approval. If a man was called out and refused to go, he was branded for evermore a coward. Those in the saloon began to bull-rag him, while Sheriff Duro tried in vain to stop it. Danielle stepped out on the boardwalk, looking over the saloon’s batwing doors. McCandless was literally shoved toward the door and out onto the boardwalk. Danielle waited on the other side of the street, then issued a challenge.

“When you’re ready, McCandless, make your play.”

“I’m no gunfighter,” McCandless whined. “I won’t do it.”

“You cowardly, back-shootin’ coyote,” said Danielle, “the next time you come after me, you’d better make it good, or I’ll kill you.”

It was a calculated risk, and Danielle took it. For a split second, she turned her back on Reece McCandless, and then she did something none of the onlookers had ever witnessed before. She whirled, drawing her right-hand Colt as she did so, and dropped to one knee. Three times McCandless fired, the slugs zipping over Danielle’s head. She fired once, and the force of it slammed McCandless back against a hitch rail. The rail broke, and McCandless fell to the boardwalk on his back.

“Damn you,” Sheriff Duro shouted, “I ought to lock you up for forcing a gunfight.”

“I don’t think so, Sheriff,” said Danielle. “Would you have jailed McCandless if I’d let him back-shoot me?”

It was a question Sheriff Sam Duro dared not answer. Red-faced, he started up the boardwalk toward his office. But as he rounded a corner and, out of sight of those who had witnessed the gunfight, he headed straight for the town’s bank and the office of old Simon McCandless. Somebody had to tell McCandless that his cowardly son had been gunned down while trying to shoot another man in the back. Sheriff Duro sighed. Hell was about to break loose, with the lid off and all the fires lit, and there was nothing he could do.

Chapter 17

Nobody spoke to Danielle after Reece McCandless had tried to shoot her in the back and had been gunned down. It was an undeniable case of self-defense, for McCandless had fired three times before Danielle had gotten off a shot. Nobody followed Danielle, and she had no idea what to expect. She stopped across the street, watching the house where she hoped there were two outlaws who might lead her to Snakehead Kalpana.

Sheriff Duro had no stomach for what lay ahead, but he had little choice. Somebody had to tell Simon McCandless that his gutless son had been gunned down after he’d tried to shoot another man in the back. Duro knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” McCandless asked.

“Sheriff Duro.”

“Come on in,” said McCandless gruffly as Duro closed the door behind him. “Now whatever you have to say, speak up. Don’t waste my time with trivial things you could have taken care of yourself.”

“Some things I don’t do,” Sheriff Duro said, “and standin’ between two hombres with guns is one of ’em. That loudmouth boy of yours just got himself shot dead after he tried to shoot another man in the back.”

Simon McCandless’s expression didn’t change. He was overweight, with gray eyebrows, gray hair, and a ruddy complexion. Kicking back his chair, he got up and walked to the window. For a long moment he looked out, seething, and when he again turned to Sheriff Duro, his face was white with rage.