Frontier Justice - 01 (28 page)

When Mason finally opened his eyes, a large tongue was lapping the blood from his cheek. He raised his arms and hugged Bowie’s massive head, the dog’s unmistakable breath washing over him. Father Paul was standing behind Bowie, looking down at Mason with a concerned face.

“Thank God you’re alive.”

“Is it over?”

“Yes.”

“Did we win?”

Father Paul looked around at the pools of blood and spatter of gore lining the walls.

“No one won, but we fared better than these unfortunate souls.”

Mason reached out and held tightly to the dog.

“Help me to my feet, boy.”

Bowie stood firm, and Mason used him as a makeshift crutch to get to his feet.

“How are Vince and Don?” he asked, fearing the worst.

“Both alive. You just missed them.”

“And you? Are you hurt?”

Father Paul looked himself over.

“It appears that God has seen fit to spare me yet again.”

Mason suddenly remembered Ava lying unconscious on the floor.

“Ava’s downstairs. She needs attention.”

“Easy there,” Father Paul said, catching Mason as he swayed. “Vince and Don have already taken her to the hospital. I expect that she’ll have a good shiner for a couple of weeks, but otherwise she should be fine. Looking at that gash on your head, the hospital should be your first stop as well.”

Mason took a few steps to test how surefooted he was. The floor didn’t come rushing up to greet him, so he figured he would make it. He left Father Paul to lament over the loss of life while he went to sort things out downstairs. The bodies of Rommel, Slim, and the other convicts lay where they had fallen. Steve Price and his two sons were coming in through the front door. One of the young men had a blood-soaked bandana tied around his calf.

Mason nodded to them.

“I appreciate what you men did.”

All three looked shaken but were holding themselves together for one another if nothing else.

“It became a bloodbath in the end,” said Steve. “I’d be surprised if a single convict is still alive.”

“Probably better that way.” Mason walked past them, patting the youngest of Steve’s sons on the shoulder as he passed.

King Street looked as if it had been the target of a suicide bomber. Dozens of bodies were draped over cars or lying in the street as lifeless contortions. A large group of townspeople was busy with the cleanup, although Erik and the other virus survivors were conspicuously absent. Now that the shooting was over, there were more than enough hands for what had to be done. Fires would be put out. Bodies would be removed. Blood would be hosed from the church walls.

Coon leaned against a nearby car, his hunting rifle propped up beside him. He nodded at Mason.

“That was a good shot.”

“Not really.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I was shooting for the other eye.” He extended a hand, and Mason shook it. “It’s been an honor, Marshal.”

“For me as well.”

Coon took the badge off his shirt and held it out to Mason.

“I think you can find someone more fitting to pin this on.”

Mason reached out and closed Coon’s hand around the badge.

“I doubt that.”

“All right then,” he said, shrugging. Without another word, he picked up his rifle and walked slowly away into the night.

Mason looked around for Chief Blue but couldn’t find him anywhere. He asked several people, but the answer was always the same. No one had seen him since the shootout started.

He keyed his radio.

“Chief Blue, sound off.”

At first there was no reply, and then came several quick pops on the radio.

“We’re coming, Chief. Hold on.” Mason called over a young man who was helping with the cleanup. “You hold this microphone button down and keep talking into the radio.”

“Okay, sir, but what should I say?”

“Sing us a song.”

“A song?”

“Son, we just won a battle. A little music is in order.”

“Yes, sir.”

The young man paused for a moment and then began to sing.

Oh, say can you see…

Mason smiled. The national anthem seemed fitting enough.

He quickly gathered a few volunteers to help scout the immediate area. Using the singing to guide them to Chief Blue’s radio, they eventually found him lying behind the counter in an ice cream shop. There was blood everywhere. Two convicts lay dead on the floor, and another was draped over the counter as if helping himself to another scoop.

Mason knelt down to inspect the chief’s wounds. He was conscious and in intense pain.

“You did good.”

The chief blinked in response.

Mason found three bullet wounds, one in his chest, one in his right thigh, and one through the side of his neck. Of the three, the one through the leg looked the most serious. The bullet had nicked the femoral artery, and he was bleeding out.

Mason slid off the chief’s belt and cinched it around his thigh to stem the flow of blood. The bleeding slowed but didn’t completely stop. Chief Blue was having trouble breathing, sucking in air with a gurgling sound, like he was trying to breathe through a wet pillowcase. Mason rolled him onto his side, and the chief’s breathing immediately improved. He held Chief Blue’s hand and leaned in close.

“Chief, I need you to listen to me. You took a bullet to the chest that has most likely pierced a lung. A second bullet passed through your neck, which probably hurts like hell, but doesn’t look serious. Finally, a third bullet opened your right femoral artery. I’ve stopped the bleeding from your leg, but you’ve already lost a lot of blood. Now, I need for you to make a decision, a really tough one.”

Chief Blue stared up at him, tears forming in his eyes.

“I need you to decide whether you want to live or die. If you want to live, you’re going to have to fight for it. If you’re willing to die the hero you are right here on this floor, I’ll stay with you until you pass. You just let me know if you’ve got anything left in you.”

Chief Blue squeezed Mason’s hand.

“Okay, then. Let’s do it.”

He turned to the men who had helped him find the chief.

“One of you help me carry him. The other run ahead and get a vehicle ready for us. We’re headed to the hospital. Now move!”

CHAPTER

23

M
ason slouched in an oversized leather chair that pulled out into a one-person sleep sofa. Bowie rested in a huge furry pile at his feet, snoring softly. A few feet away, Chief Blue was lying on a hospital bed, an intravenous tube dangling from his arm to a bag of clear liquid. He was looking intently at Ava, who stood next to the bed studying his medical chart.

“Am I going to make it, Doc?” he choked out in a gravelly voice.

She shrugged. “Hard to say.”

Chief Blue smiled. “Doc, your bedside manner needs some work.”

“With enough rest, you’ll be fine,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “We recovered the bullets and largely repaired the damage. But you’re going to need a couple of weeks of bed rest and even more months of taking it easy. Give your body a chance to heal properly, okay, Chief?”

“Believe me. My wife will insist on it.”

Ava looked over to Mason.

“How’s my other patient?”

He touched the scab that had formed on his scalp.

“Tender.”

“That’s not a word anyone would ever use to describe you.” Her face was serious. “What you did was …” She closed her eyes and, for a moment, he thought she might cry.

“I’m fine, Ava. You know that better than anyone. A graze here.” He touched his scalp again. “Another one here.” He gently rubbed his shoulder. “They’re nothing.”

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes.

“Yes, but an inch here or there, and we’d have lost you.”

He stood and put his uninjured arm around her.

“I’m fine,” he repeated. “How’s your eye?”

She touched the edge of the large bruise surrounding her left eye.

“A reminder to stop being stupid.”

He kissed her eye very gently. In turn, she kissed him on the lips. Then she pulled back and straightened her doctor’s coat.

“Okay, then. I have more patients to check on.” As she swung the curtain aside to leave, Don and Vince stood waiting like kids outside the principal’s office. “Well, go on,” she said, “but keep it short. The chief needs his rest.”

Don had repaired his prosthetic leg and was back on two feet again. Both men had an assortment of small cuts peppering their faces.

“You two look like you gave mouth-to-mouth to a bobcat,” said Mason.

“What are you talking about?” said Vince. “We look great.”

They all laughed.

“When they blew the rooftop door, we both took a face full of splinters,” explained Don. “Missed the eyes, thankfully.”

“That was good work holding the tower.” Mason looked from one man to the next. “It took a lot of grit.” Embarrassed, they both looked to their feet.

“I can only speak for myself,” said Vince, “but I was as afraid as a six-year-old schoolgirl facing a pack of wild dingoes with nothing more than a squirt gun.”

Don snorted and rolled his eyes.

“You should have heard him bellyache over a little hole in his hand, and there I was with an entire leg missing!”

They laughed again. Chief Blue closed his eyes in pain.

“Please … please,” he begged.

Don reached out and patted Vince on the back. “Jokes aside, my man and I, we held it together.”

“I’m proud to have fought beside you men,” said Mason.

“Same for us, Marshal. I’ve never met anyone with more raw fight in his spirit. That was some hard stuff you did.”

Vince and Chief Blue both nodded their agreement.

Mason thought of the dead he had left behind. Despite the terrible brutality he had inflicted on his enemy, he felt only a sense of relief at seeing his friends alive. War had always been that way.

“Thankfully, that’s behind us now.”

“The battle may be over, but we still have to put this town back together. Any chance we might convince you to stick around?”

Mason stood and shook each man’s hand.

“It’s been an honor, but I have another road to follow.”

The scene at the Church of the Fallen Saints was one of repair and cleanup. More than a dozen people were busy spackling the walls, others were patching the door, and still others were clearing away debris from where the back wall had collapsed.

Mason and Bowie stood out front. The street had been cleared of the dead, but blood was spattered everywhere like the stains of a huge paint-ball fight. Father Paul came out to greet them.

“I wondered when you’d be coming by,” he said with a warm smile.

“The whole town seems to have come out to put your church back together.”

He looked over his shoulder.

“Indeed. It’s more of a landmark now than ever before. A place where few stood against many. Daniel Boone would have been proud.”

“What about the back wall? That’s going to be tough to fix.”

“Steve Price has already started gathering supplies. He assures me that it’s a few days’work, no more.”

“Anything we can do to help?” Mason asked, patting Bowie on the side.

“I think you’ve both done more than your fair share.” Father Paul knelt down and gave the dog a big hug. “You take care of this man, and he’ll take care of you.” Bowie licked the priest’s face and wouldn’t stop until he stood back up.

Wiping his face with a small handkerchief, Father Paul said, “Next time you come this way, please stop in to check on us.”

“I will.”

The two men shook hands and then hugged. Father Paul gave Mason a long look.

“I have a feeling that your work is only beginning. May God go with you on what I’m sure will be a most difficult journey.”

Ava leaned close to Mason, her hand resting on his leg as he steered the truck slowly through the wreckage of Highway 321. Bowie was asleep in the bed of the truck.

“This was a great idea, getting away.”

“We could both use a few days of rest,” he said. “Besides, you’ll enjoy the cabin. It has some amenities you probably haven’t had for a few weeks.”

“Like electricity?”