The next morning, the Killion gang drifted into Reno in small groups, no more than three together, and they tied their horses up around the Bank of Reno. Just before entering the town, Longarm had learned that he was to help hold the horses, while Randy was going inside the bank along with Clyde and four others. The remainder of the gang were to just hang around and be ready in case there was any trouble.
“Good luck,” Longarm said in a soft voice as Randy headed into the bank.
Randy glanced back at Longarm, and he was obviously scared and unwell. He’d taken a vicious pistol-whipping, and it was a wonder that he was even able to stand up and walk this morning, much less to have endured the long night ride over from Helldorado.
As soon as the door closed behind Randy and the other outlaws, Longarm turned on the other three men holding horses and drew his six-gun.
“Put your hands up and grab saddlehorns,” he ordered. “Don’t say a word and you might even live to stand trial.”
The three outlaws twitched, but when Longarm cocked back the hammer of his Colt, they were quick to follow his orders. At the same time, Gus Bell and his deputies were catching the other outside members of the Killion gang by complete surprise and without a shot being fired.
“Got ‘em all!” Bell called out in a low but jubilant voice to Longarm. “Now get ‘em off the street and get ready for the ones inside!”
Longarm quickly disarmed his three captives and handed them over to Bell’s deputies. He turned to look at the bank door and made his decision. “I’m going in there.”
“Are you crazy?”
“They won’t realize there’s a problem out here,” Longarm explained, holstering his gun, “and I want to be close to that kid if lead starts flying.”
Bell didn’t like it, but he understood. “Just don’t be slow to duck.”
Longarm went through the bank door. Clyde had his gun trained on the supposed bank personnel, while Randy and the others were stuffing cash into money sacks.
When Randy saw Longarm out of the corner of his eye, he seemed to reach his own decision. He dropped the sack he had been stuffing with greenbacks and went for his six-gun.
“Everyone freeze and nobody gets hurt!” he cried.
Clyde had already caught Randy’s sudden movement out of the corner of his eye and was going for his gun. Longarm made a desperate stab for his own weapon.
Randy’s Colt bucked first, but Longarm’s six-gun barked only a fraction of a second later. The two shots were so tightly spaced that they blended into one. Clyde’s shirtfront blossomed crimson. He lifted on his toes and tried to level his gun. Longarm shot the big bastard cleanly between the eyes while the other outlaws clawed for their guns.
During the next few heartbeats, four more members of the Killion gang died, the victims of a fusillade of gunfire from many directions. The wonder, Longarm later was to realize, was that a lot of innocent men were not killed in the heavy crossfire.
“Hold your fire!” Longarm bellowed. “Everyone hold their fire!”
The interior of the Bank of Reno was riddled and choking with acrid gunsmoke. Longarm holstered his gun and rushed over to the kid from Helldorado. “Are you all right?”
“I killed my own brother,” Randy whispered.
“You actually missed him,” Longarm said. “My bullets brought him down. I put the one between Clyde’s eyes.”
“You did?”
“Damn right,” Longarm said, knowing that he was telling a half truth. Randy’s bullet had actually scored first, and would soon have proved fatal if Longarm hadn’t drilled Clyde two more times, once through the lung and finally through the brain.
“I’m leaving,” Randy said, looking badly shaken. “I’m getting the hell out of this town.”
“Where are you going to?”
“To Mormon Station, then Sonora.” Randy took a deep breath and fingered his violated scalp. “What about you, Custis?”
“I’m going to Denver. Marshal Bell can arrest Desiree and get her to open your father’s safe. I’m finished with Helldorado. I don’t ever want to see the damned place again.”
“Me neither,” Randy said as they stepped outside to drink in the cool, clean air and leave the killing far behind.