Massacre Canyon (25 page)

Before Mordecai could fire, a rifle cracked. The gun flew from Mordecai's fingers and he twisted halfway around from the impact of the slug that drilled through his upper right arm.

Matt stepped out from behind some shrubs at the corner of the terrace and leveled his Winchester at Rudolph, who had started to reach under his coat for a gun.

“Hold it, Kroll!” Matt ordered. “Get your hands up or I'll kill you!”

Luke glanced over at Smoke and said, “That'd be our little brother Matt?”

“That it would,” Smoke said with a proud smile.

Rudolph thought about making a try anyway, but then he slowly pulled his hand out from under his coat, empty, and raised both arms into the air. Galt growled and took a step forward, but Rudolph snapped, “Galt, no. He's got the drop on us, whoever he is.”

“I'm Matt Jensen, that's who I am,” Matt said. “The third Jensen brother. Pleased to meet you at last, Luke. I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“So do I, Matt,” Luke said. “But I'll take it.”

With all the commotion going on from the barn being on fire, none of the other outlaws had paid any attention to the shot. The Kroll brothers, Galt, and three other owlhoots were the only ones here on the terrace with the Jensen brothers. Matt was outgunned, but none of the men staring down the barrel of that deadly Winchester seemed to want to start anything, at least not yet.

Matt motioned the guards back with the rifle. Smoke and Luke hurried over to him. Matt said, “Take my Colt and this gun that's stuck behind my belt. That way we'll all be armed.”

“Your hand's bleeding, Matt,” Smoke commented as he slipped the revolver from Matt's holster and passed it to Luke. He took the extra gun for himself.

“Yeah, I know. I stuck it on some barbed wire. But it's nothing to worry about. I can still shoot, and that's all that matters right now.” Matt raised his voice and called to the three guards, “Throw those rifles away, and your handguns, too. Do it now.”

The outlaws hesitated, but then Rudolph gave them a curt nod and they followed Matt's order.

Rudolph wore an angry but pragmatic expression as he said, “The three of you have no chance to get out of here alive. You know that, don't you?”

Mordecai had been whimpering in pain as he clutched his wounded arm. Now he exclaimed, “Don't talk to them, Rudolph! Just kill 'em!”

“Don't be a bigger damned fool than you already are,” Rudolph snapped. “If we try anything now they'll kill us. But they're outnumbered and they know it. They can't get away.”

“I wouldn't be so sure about that,” Matt said confidently. “I reckon we can if we've got some hostages.”

For the first time a look of genuine concern flickered over Rudolph Kroll's face. He said, “You're wrong about that, Jensen. My men don't love me that much. They'll gun me down if it means killing you three and preserving the secret of this hideout.”

“What about your brother?”

Rudolph laughed coldly and said, “They'll be even quicker to kill Mordecai.”

The younger brother forgot about how bad his arm was hurting and stared at Rudolph in amazement.

“How . . . how can you say that?” Mordecai demanded. “The men all love me!”

Rudolph didn't dignify that absurd claim with a response.

“I think you're wrong, Kroll,” Matt said. “I think your men will want to keep you alive because you know where all the loot from the gang's jobs is stashed, and they don't. You're worth a lot of dinero to them.”

That was news to Smoke, but it didn't come as a real surprise. Rudolph struck him as the sort of hombre who would want to play all his cards close to the vest. That caution might backfire on him now.

Rudolph's face darkened as he glared at the three Jensens.

“
I
won't let you get away with this,” he declared. “I'll order my men to open fire on you no matter what happens to Mordecai and me.”

“I guess we'll have to put that to the test,” Smoke said. He gestured with the gun he held. “Get moving, all of you.” He glanced at Valencia. “Except you, ma'am. You can stay here where it's safe.”

“What are you going to do?” the woman asked. “What Señor Kroll says is true. There are too many of them.”

Matt said, “I figure they'll catch us some of those horses I stampeded with the fire in the barn, and then five of us will ride out of this canyon: my brothers and I and Rudolph and Mordecai. We'll have our guns on them the whole way. If they want to keep Rudolph alive, they'll let us go.”

“You overestimate them,” Rudolph said. “They'll gun us all down and then come up here and tear the place apart, brick by brick, to find that loot. We'll all die for nothing!”

“It's a chance we have to take,” Smoke said. He was getting mighty tired of all the talking. He gestured again with the revolver. “Move!”

“No,” Galt said. “No!”

Eyes wide with rage, the big man charged Smoke, Matt, and Luke.

Their guns swung toward Galt, but they hesitated, reluctant to shoot down an unarmed man, even one as big as a grizzly.

The distraction gave the guards a chance to dive for the rifles they had thrown down. They came up firing, but they hurried their shots and the bullets whined over the heads of the three Jensen brothers.

Matt and Luke instantly returned the fire. Working the Winchester's lever with blinding speed, Matt cut down two of the guards while the Colt in Luke's hand boomed and drove a .45 slug into the third man's chest and spun him off his feet.

While they were doing that, Smoke lunged forward to intercept Galt. He whipped the revolver he held against the side of the big man's head. It landed with stunning force, but Galt shook off the effects of the blow and barreled into Smoke. The impact sent darts of pain from his cracked rib stabbing through Smoke's torso as he stumbled backwards, barely escaping the massive arms that Galt tried to throw around him.

Smoke remembered his previous fight with the bearlike majordomo. He wasn't going to let himself get trapped in Galt's deadly embrace again. He summoned up all the speed and quickness he possessed and darted aside as Galt grabbed at him again. Reversing the pistol, he smashed the butt into the bridge of Galt's nose, right between the man's eyes. Those eyes went glassy for a second, and Galt stumbled.

Smoke knew he had done some damage, so he struck again, slightly lower this time. The blow crunched cartilage, flattened Galt's nose, and made bright crimson blood spurt from it. Galt grunted and swung his right arm in a backhand that caught Smoke on the shoulder and nearly knocked him down. Smoke caught his balance as he started to topple.

That gave Galt time to close in again. A huge fist hammered against Smoke's chest, almost paralyzing him. He wondered for a second if the terrible punch had stopped his heart. His muscles responded, albeit sluggishly, as he ducked under a looping left that would have torn his head off if it had landed.

Smoke was an honorable man, but he was also a practical man. Faced with a desperate situation, he did what he had to.

He kicked Galt in the groin.

Even a man as huge and powerful as the majordomo was vulnerable to such a devastating impact. Galt grunted and wheezed in pain as he doubled over. Smoke whipped the gun butt against Galt's broken nose again. Galt's head jerked to the side. He took one stumbling step forward and then collapsed, crashing to the flagstones like a toppled redwood.

Satisfied that Galt was finally out of the fight, at least for the moment, Smoke wheeled around and saw that Matt and Luke had the Kroll brothers covered. The three guards sprawled on the ground in limp attitudes of death.

All the shooting had drawn the attention of the rest of the gang, however, and now the outlaws were streaming away from the burning barn and back toward the big ranch house. The first of them poured through the open gate and opened fire on the little group on the top terrace.

Mordecai yelped in terror as bullets started screaming around his head. Rudolph shouted, “I told you they wouldn't care if they killed me!”

Smoke realized then that the grip the brothers had had on the gang was a tenuous one, motivated by fear more than loyalty. With the Krolls helpless for the time being, the outlaws were seizing the opportunity to overthrow them.

So much for the idea of using them as hostages, Smoke thought. He ordered, “Get back in the house! We'll fort up and hold them off!”

That might be easier said than done, with three guns against more than two dozen vicious desperados. But they didn't have any other option at the moment.

Matt sprayed rifle slugs at the gang to cover the others' retreat. Smoke and Luke prodded the Kroll brothers ahead of them. Smoke saw that Valencia had already fled into the house and was grateful for that. He hoped she would hunker down and hide somewhere until this was all over, one way or the other.

They left the unconscious Galt and the dead guards lying on the terrace and hurried inside the big house. As soon as the door had slammed behind them, Luke covered Rudolph and Mordecai while Smoke and Matt went to a couple of windows, broke them out with gun barrels, and threw lead at the outlaws. There were plenty of places on the terraces where the attackers could take cover. They did so and continued their barrage directed at the house.

In a matter of seconds, all the windows along the front gallery were shattered. Bullets whined and bounced around the long, narrow room. Smoke glanced over his shoulder and saw that Luke had herded Rudolph and Mordecai into a little alcove where they had a little protection against ricochets, but not much.

Matt paused in his firing, dug cartridges out of his pocket, and fed them through the rifle's loading gate. He looked over at Smoke and said, “There are too many of them, and this house is too big. They'll circle and get inside. We can't hold 'em off!”

“I know,” Smoke said grimly, “but we'll fight as long as we can.”

A grin flashed across Matt's face as he said, “Yeah, I reckon. That's what Jensens do!”

That was certainly true, Smoke thought.

But this time it looked like the Jensen luck might have run out at last....

The one thing Smoke and Matt had on their side was their deadly accuracy. With a limited amount of ammunition, they had to make every shot count, so every time one of their guns cracked, an outlaw fell, either dead or badly wounded. That was enough to make the attackers cautious . . . for now. Smoke knew it wouldn't last.

“Señores!”

Smoke looked around to see Valencia hurrying across the gallery with several boxes of ammunition in her hands. He motioned urgently for her to get down as bullets continued to whine around the room.

“Slide the cartridges across the floor to me and Matt!” he told her as she dropped to her knees. He was a little surprised that she wanted to help them, but he supposed she was really trying to protect Rudolph, now that the gang appeared to have turned on the Kroll brothers.

Valencia slid a couple of boxes each across the smooth tile floor to Smoke and Matt, then crawled backwards out of the line of fire. Smoke was relieved when she disappeared unharmed through a doorway.

From the alcove where Luke was holding the Krolls prisoner, Rudolph called, “I told you they wouldn't care whether or not they killed me, Jensen!”

“Which one of us are you talking to?” Matt asked.

Rudolph laughed harshly and said, “Does it matter? You're both fools, and pretty soon you're going to be dead fools! You can't hold them off. Right now they're out there talking about how they'll rush the house, make sure we're all dead, and tear it apart down to the foundation to find the loot they think they've got coming to them.”

In a whining voice, Mordecai said, “I told you you shouldn't treat the boys that way. You always had to lord it over all of us!”

Rudolph turned and slapped his brother across the face.

“Shut up. Having to listen to you just makes things worse. If you'd followed my orders to start with, none of this would have happened. None of it! But no, you had to go and get us mixed up with these damn Jensens!”

Mordecai whimpered and cringed. He said, “If I wasn't hurt—”

“You still wouldn't do a damned thing, and you know it,” Rudolph said coldly.

Matt had finished topping off the magazine in his Winchester. He said, “You two might as well save all your wrangling. Looks like that bunch outside is getting ready to rush us.”

Smoke agreed. Some of the outlaws would try to flank the house while others attacked it head-on, and in a matter of minutes they stood a good chance of being inside.

From that point on, the only thing Smoke, Matt, and Luke could do was sell their lives as dearly as possible.

“Matt,” Smoke said in the lull, “where's Preacher?”

“I don't know. He was going to try to find some other way into the canyon. Were you thinking he'd show up at the last minute to pull our bacon out of the fire somehow?”

“The thought crossed my mind,” Smoke admitted with a smile.

It seemed to be a forlorn hope, however. As the outlaws opened fire again, pouring more lead at the house than ever before, several of them leaped up to try to reach the sides of the building.

Only to be cut down from behind by a withering hail of bullets that shredded their bodies mercilessly.

Smoke frowned in surprise when he saw that happen. His astonishment grew when more outlaws leaped up and turned to try to meet this new threat, and they fell, too. Someone was attacking the gang from behind, and while Smoke's first thoughts were of Preacher, he didn't see how the old mountain man could be doing so much damage to the outlaws by himself. It would take a force of equal or larger size to do that.

Matt was equally astounded by this new development. He exclaimed, “What in blazes is going on out there?”

“I don't know,” Smoke said. “We've gotten some reinforcements from somewhere.”

From the alcove, Luke called questions, too, but Smoke didn't have any answers for him. All they could do was wait and see what happened.

The battle didn't take long. The newcomers—hard-faced men in a variety of range garb and town clothes—swept over the Kroll gang with devastating results. In a matter of minutes, all the outlaws were either dead or so badly wounded that they were out of the fight.

“You reckon that's a posse of some sort?” Matt asked.

“That's the only explanation that makes sense to me,” Smoke said.

A few moments later, as several of the newcomers reached the top terrace where the whipping posts stood, that hunch seemed to be confirmed. Smoke spotted a familiar figure. A tall, lean man with a hawklike face strode forward, flanked by a grinning, handsome man dressed all in black.

“That's Simon Ford,” Smoke told Matt. “He's a US marshal. Been on the trail of the Kroll brothers for a long time.”

“How did he find the place?”

“He must've trailed you and Preacher.”

Matt shook his head and said, “We would've seen anybody on our back trail.”

“Not if they hung back far enough,” Smoke said. “And they could, because Ford knew about our plan, too. He was there when I discussed it with Governor Frémont.”

Matt muttered something Smoke couldn't make out. Smoke knew his younger brother was irritated that somebody had been able to follow him and Preacher without him knowing it. Preacher would really be upset when he found out about it. But they weren't the only competent frontiersmen to be found out here, and it would be foolish to think they were.

Simon Ford raised his voice and called, “Hello, the house! Smoke Jensen! Are you in there?”

“We're here, Marshal!” Smoke replied. He had been taking advantage of the chance to reload the revolver. He snapped the cylinder closed as he added, “We have Rudolph and Mordecai Kroll as our prisoners!”

“Bring them on out!” Ford ordered. “You can turn them over to me and my posse!”

Smoke glanced at Matt and then at Luke.

“What about it?” he asked. “Do we turn them over to the marshal?”

“The whole idea was to rescue Luke and bring them to justice at the same time,” Matt said. “It's starting to look like we've done that.”

Smoke nodded and stood up from the crouch he'd been in at the window. He motioned for Luke to bring Rudolph and Mordecai over to the door. Broken glass crunched under their boots as they walked across the gallery. Matt, still holding his Winchester, opened the big front door.

“Hold it!” Luke snapped, bringing the Kroll brothers to a halt before they could step through the doorway. “Smoke, is the marshal that tall, hawk-faced gent?”

“That's right,” Smoke said, puzzled by Luke's sudden hesitation.

“You know who the hombre is with him?”

“Never seen him before.”

“Well, I do,” Luke said. “His name is Jesse Clinton. He's a hired killer. He'd never volunteer for a posse, and no decent lawman would ride with him even if he did. Something's going on here, and I don't like it.”

Smoke's eyes narrowed as he studied the men who had come up onto the terrace with Ford and Clinton. He had seen plenty of hardcases in his time, and these men fit the bill. He didn't like the looks of them. He liked the situation even less when scattered shots began to ring out down the slope. From the sound of the gunfire, the newcomers were finishing off any outlaws who hadn't been killed in the battle.

“Ford!” Smoke called. “You come on in here . . . alone!”

Ford nodded and took a step forward. His face was set in grim lines that turned to surprise as Clinton snapped, “Hold it right there, Marshal. No need for us to go in. The Jensens can bring Rudolph and Mordecai out to us.”

“I'm going to take them into custody,” Ford said. “That was our agreement. I can handle that.”

“I'm changin' our agreement.” Clinton's grin never wavered, but his voice was cold and dangerous. “We don't need the Jensens. Hell, we don't even need Mordecai. Just Rudolph. He's the one who knows where the loot from all the gang's robberies is stashed.”

“I don't understand,” Ford argued. “I agreed to let you and your men collect all the bounties—”

“That ain't enough,” Clinton broke in. “We want Rudolph's cache, too.”

“How do you know he's even got such a thing?”

“One of my boys used to ride with the Krolls,” Clinton explained while the men inside the house listened tensely. “He was wounded during a holdup, and they left him for dead. That was before Rudolph found this place, so he couldn't lead us here, but he told us all about how Rudolph always kept the loot and doled out just enough to his men to keep them on the string. Personally, I think he was just playin' 'em along and would've double-crossed them one of these days, so he could keep all the loot for himself.” Clinton laughed. “Hell, that's what I would've done in his place.”

“This is insane,” Ford muttered. “I came here to arrest the Kroll brothers, and that's what I'm going to do.”

He turned on his heel and stalked toward the door.

Clinton shot him in the back.

Smoke realized what the gunman was about to do, but Clinton struck like a snake and there wasn't time to stop him. The bullet punched into Ford's body and knocked him forward onto the flagstones.

“They're going to kill us all,” Luke snapped. He fired past Rudolph at Jesse Clinton. The shot missed, but it came close enough to make the gunman jump for cover.

Smoke and Matt knew that Luke was right. Clinton and his men represented just as much of a danger as the Kroll gang had. The house's defenders had just traded one bunch of bloodthirsty attackers for another.

That realization took only a split second to translate into action. Smoke and Matt opened fire as well, and Clinton's men scattered and began returning the shots.

Movement caught Smoke's eye. Despite being wounded, Simon Ford had started crawling toward the open door. He had to drag himself along by pushing with his elbows as slugs tore through the air above him, but he kept at it stubbornly until he was only a few feet away from the threshold.

As the gun in Smoke's hand roared and bucked to give him a little cover, he leaped into the doorway and bent over to stretch out his other hand to Ford. Ford reached up and clasped wrists with him. Smoke hauled backwards on the marshal's weight and pulled Ford through the doorway as more bullets smashed into the panel and sent splinters flying from it. The effort made Smoke's cracked rib twinge again, but he ignored the pain and dragged Ford into the house, then kicked the door closed behind them.

“You should have . . . left me out there . . . to get shot to pieces,” Ford gasped. He tried to stand up but clearly didn't have the strength.

“Just stay down, Marshal,” Smoke told him.

“Don't . . . call me that. I turned in . . . my badge. Don't deserve . . . the title. I let my hate for . . . the Krolls . . . make me sell my soul . . . to another bunch of outlaws.”

That sort of made sense, Smoke supposed. He could get the whole story from Ford later, if they lived through this ruckus, which seemed increasingly unlikely. A few minutes earlier, they had been about to make their last stand, and despite the brief reprieve, it looked like that would soon be happening again.

“Who the hell is that?” Rudolph Kroll asked.

Smoke turned his head and asked, “You don't know him?”

“Never saw the bastard before in my life.”

Simon Ford had devoted
his
life to bringing the Krolls to justice, and his feeling of duty was so strong it had overwhelmed his common sense and led him to make a deal with the Devil, in the form of Jesse Clinton. And despite that, he was still a complete non-entity to the men he had pursued. That didn't seem fair at all to Smoke, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

“Hate to tell you this,” Matt said from one of the windows, “but it looks like this bunch is about to charge us, too.”

“Give us guns,” Rudolph urged. “Let us at least defend ourselves.”

“Forget it,” Luke snapped. “I wouldn't trust either one of you with a gun if Sitting Bull and all the Indians from the Little Big Horn were out there!”

“We're all going to die anyway,” Rudolph argued.

The quiet voice that spoke next took them all by surprise. They turned to look as Valencia said, “No, señores. There is a way out . . . if you trust me.”