As Longarm pulled out his carbine from the boot, he glanced to the right to where Rufus Gallagher still stood. He had come no further than the edge of the porch. He stood there watching. Longarm assumed that whatever kind of party that they had in mind for him would take place inside the shack and that Rufus was probably the chief organizer of the festivities.
Longarm slowly eased his weight onto his left stirrup and swung his right leg over, keeping one hand on the saddlehorn and the other in the air so that Clem Gallagher would have no excuse for being sudden with the revolver that he had pointed dead at Longarm.
When he was standing by the side of his horse, both hands in the air, Clem Gallagher backed his horse up a few feet and motioned with his pistol. Gallagher said, “Walk toward me. Get clear of your horse. The horse is between you and the rifles in the house.”
Longarm took two steps forward so that he was just beyond the head of his horse. He thought it would be extremely funny if they suddenly fired at him, hit his horse, and blew themselves to kingdom come. Of course, since he would go up in the same explosion, it wouldn’t be nearly as funny as it would be if he wasn’t there.
Longarm watched as Clem Gallagher dismounted and walked toward him, his revolver in his right hand. He came and stood face-to-face with Longarm, or he came to stand in front of Longarm and tilt his face up to look into Longarm’s. He was even shorter than Longarm had thought. With his left hand, Clem Gallagher reached out and took Longarm’s revolver out of the holster. He pitched it to his left, toward the porch. Longarm hated to see his carefully kept weapon skidding along in the dust.
Clem Gallagher said, “Well, now, Mister Lawman. What do you think of yourself now?”
“I am supposed to stand here with my hands in the air like some damn fool? You’ve got me disarmed. Are you afraid of an unarmed man?”
Gallagher made a clucking sound in his voice that Longarm took for laughter. “By all means, Mister Lawman, put your hands down. You might need to scratch your ass. You might need to scratch a lot of places when we get through with you. You might not have a use for that little pistol that you use on Lily Gail so well.”
Longarm said, “Let me ask you something, Gallagher.” He turned before going on and looked at Rufus standing on the porch with his rifle. His rifle was hanging casually, not pointed at any one thing, but then Longarm reckoned that there were several backup rifles aimed directly at him. Whatever he did, it was going to have to be done soon and sudden. Once they got him inside the shack, they would no doubt bind his hands and then his options would be slim. He hooked his hands in his gunbelt, working his left thumb into the silver buckle where he kept the derringer. He made it seem like a casual nonchalant gesture intending to show that he wasn’t afraid. He said again, “Let me ask you something, Gallagher. You’ve gone through a hell of a lot of trouble to get me here and I’m curious as to the reason. Is it because of all that cash and silver that you think that I’m going to stop you from robbing in Springer, or is it because old Vern went up in a million pieces?”
Gallagher’s eyes suddenly blazed. He shifted the pistol to his left hand and with his right slapped Longarm with the flat of his hand as hard as he could. Longarm let the blow turn his face so that he was looking at the cabin. Then Gallagher came with a backhanded slap, only this time as the blow was carrying his face sideways, Longarm’s big right arm was coming up to grab Gallagher around the neck. As he grabbed him, Longarm pivoted, changing his position to face the shack. By that time he had the derringer out in his left hand and he was holding Gallagher up against his front, squeezing him with the muscles of his right arm against the man’s neck. He could hear Gallagher making choking sounds as he struggled.
On the porch, Rufus had brought up his rifle. Longarm stooped lower so that his head was not so far above Clem’s. He jabbed Gallagher hard in the back and said, “I’ve got a derringer in your back, boy. I’ve got a.38-caliber derringer, two barrels, and I’ll blow your spine in two if you don’t drop that revolver right now, right now, right now.”
Clem Gallagher was still making the gurgling sounds. Both of his arms were held straight out in front of him. His almost nerveless fingers let the pistol slip. It fell to the ground. Longarm began to back toward his horse, crabbing sideways. He yelled at the house, “Rufus, I’ve got a derringer in your brother’s back. You’d better put that rifle down right now or I’m going to blow the living hell out of him. Do you understand me? Put that rifle down.”
Rufus Gallagher said, “You go to hell.” Suddenly, with one spring, he jumped back through the open door of the shack. Gallagher tried to struggle, but Longarm clamped him tighter. By now, Longarm was at the head of his horse. He said to Clem, “Take hold of the bridle of my horse. Take hold of him right now.” He jabbed him hard with the derringer.
Clem Gallagher slowly put out a hand and took hold of the reins. Longarm began to back away from the shack. Unwillingly, Clem Gallagher was forced to lead Longarm’s horse. As they went backwards, someone in the house fired. Dust kicked up two or three feet to Longarm’s left and a bullet went whining off.
Longarm yelled, “One more shot and I’ll shoot this sonofabitch through the back.”
To illustrate his point, he raised his left hand so that they could see the derringer. Then he quickly stuck it back into Clem Gallagher’s spine. Little by little, they were putting some distance between them and the house.
Another rifle cracked and dust stirred under the belly of Longarm’s horse. He yelled, “You better stop that shooting. One more time and I’m killing this sonofabitch.”
A voice yelled back. Longarm assumed it was Rufus. The voice said, “Yeah, you kill him, then what are you going to do?”
“I’ll take it one at a time,” Longarm said. “But one thing that’s for certain is that I’ll kill your damn brother.”
The voice yelled back, “Then what are you going to do, Mister Marshal? Your pistol is lying up here and your rifle is in the sand. What are you going to do to defend yourself? Throw rocks at us?”
The distance had widened to some fifty or sixty yards. Longarm said, “Take your choice. If it’s worth that to kill me, ask old Clem how he feels about it.”
Clem Gallagher was still making the gurgling sound. He seemed to be getting limp at the knees, and Longarm suddenly realized that he was choking the man, cutting off his wind. He eased the pressure slightly. He said, “Tell them, Clem. Tell them how you feel about swapping your life out for mine. Tell them if they ought to trade your life for mine.”
At first Clem Gallagher’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper, and then he cleared his throat and coughed for a moment. He said, still hoarsely, trying to shout, “Don’t shoot, for heaven’s sakes, don’t shoot. Hell, Rufus, I’m your flesh and blood. Don’t shoot. Hell, let the sonofabitch go. We’ll get him another time.”
Longarm clamped his arm solid around Clem Gallagher’s neck. He called out, “There ain’t going to be a next time.” A shot suddenly rang out and Longarm heard a thud.
Chapter 9
For a second he thought they had shot his horse, and then he felt the body go slack in his arms and he realized that they had just shot his hostage. Another shot exploded from the shack, catching the Gallagher he was holding high on the shoulder. He suddenly realized that they were aiming for the arm he had around the man’s neck. By the weight of the body, he could tell the man was dead. He yelled, “Rufus, you crazy sonofabitch. Is it so important that you just killed your own brother?”
There was a loud cackle from the shack and a new voice called out, “That ain’t Clem Gallagher. I’m Clem Gallagher, you ignoramus Mister Smartass U.S. Deputy Marshal. That there fool you’re cuddling up to is our half-brother Virgil.”