For an instant Madigan watched as Shorty lay where he had fallen trying to get some air back into his lungs. There was nothing Madigan could do for him. Suddenly a second bullet whistled past Madigan’s ear. Madigan’s mind blew into a rage. He jerked the buckskin around and headed in the direction of the shot. In the middle of the trail, smoking rifle in hand, stood the killer, Harry O’Neill.
O’Neill levered another round into the chamber. Madigan saw the puff of smoke and felt a tug at his hips, but the great horse beneath him charged on straight at the killer as Madigan’s right hand dropped to his Colt. He had no conscious thought of firing his gun, but as he bore down on O’Neill the outlaw began to take on a strange, contorted look. One after another, Madigan saw splotches of red explode on O’Neill’s chest. Then another puff of smoke came from O’Neill’s rifle and Madigan felt the sharp, burning pain of the bullet strike him in the right arm, forcing the now-empty Colt from his hand. A third bullet hit Madigan in the lower right side and he slipped from the saddle and hit the ground with a jar.
Madigan must have blacked out for a few seconds. When he came to, the madman was standing over him. O’Neill looked like a rag doll that was shot to pieces. Blood was literally flowing from five gaping holes in his chest, but he stood there with a grin on his face and evil in his eye. And the rifle pointed at Madigan’s head was rock steady.
You lose, Captain!” he sneered as he tightened his finger on the trigger. As Madigan watched a blank look slowly spread across O’Neill’s face. O’Neill’s body seemed to relax a little and his right leg started to twist under the killer, while the muzzle of the gun swayed off target. O’Neill fought to again bring the barrel in line with Madigan’s head but no longer had the strength to do so. His face now took on the appearance of a man that was finally at peace as the once giant of a man slid to the ground, nothing more than a dead pile of flesh. Then Madigan blacked out again.
When he came to again he didn’t know how long he had been out. Hours, days, weeks? But somehow he was still alive!
“How?” Madigan groaned when he finally came around again.
“O’Neill died on his feet. Your first two bullets blew his heart away. He was dead and didn’t even know it. His evil just kept him going a little longer,” Lewana said, as she gently brushed a hair out of Madigan’s eye.