Pinto Lowery (24 page)

Pinto almost immediately shifted his fire toward the privy, but the slight-shouldered boy had vanished. Pinto half hoped the young outlaw had escaped. He hadn't.

“Best you hold real still, mister,” the surviving raider advised as he stepped out of the back room waving his rifle toward Elsie and the children. “Stop!” he ordered as Pinto tried to slide past the door. “Show yourself or I'll kill 'em all, one by one.”

“No!” Truett screamed, fumbling with the shotgun. The young bandit fired a round at the stove, and Truett discarded the scattergun.

“Pinto, he'll only kill us anyway,” Elsie said, staring at the wild eyes of the gunman.

“All I want's the money,” the raider argued. “Give it to me, and I go.”

“Sure,” Pinto said, hobbling over and prying the banknotes from Joe Hannigan's clenched fist. “Here.”

“Drop that rifle first.”

“Not likely,” Pinto replied, steadying himself as his left leg went numb.

“You got five seconds,” the outlaw announced as he grabbed Braxton by the shoulder and slung him to the floor.

Pinto studied his adversary's cold eyes and dropped the Henry. The outlaw then accepted the bills with a laugh of disdain.

“You ain't so much, Joe Hannigan,” he taunted the corpse. “Made yourself famous, did you? Well, they'll be singin' 'bout Bucky Perry from here on out.”

“Sure, they will,” Pinto said, dragging himself away from the door.

“Ain't just anyone can kill himself a whole family,” Perry added, aiming the rifle at Brax.

“Not dis day!” Pinto said, throwing himself at the outlaw. The rifle flew one way, and Pinto rolled the other with young Perry flailing away at him. For a moment Pinto screamed as the young outlaw clawed and kicked, tormenting the mustanger's shattered leg. Then Pinto's fingers gripped the holstered Colt and drew it out. The barrel jabbed its way between two of Perry's ribs and exploded.

“You kilt me,” the young man said as blood trickled from his lips. He coughed once, then died.

Jared Richardson raced into the house to find Elsie and Ben laboring over Pinto's leg. Truett hovered over Brax and hugged Winnie to his side.

“Horses comin'," Jared announced nervously. Pinto's eyes fogged, and he ground his teeth.

“Rifle,” he told Ben.

“No, wait,” Ben urged as Pinto swung the barrel out the window and prepared to open fire at the shadowy figures approaching the house at full gallop.

“It's Pa!” Jared shouted.

Pinto blinked smoke and dust from his eyes and stared in relief as Sheriff Diggs leaped off his horse and bounded into the smoke-filled farmhouse.

“All's over now, Sheriff,” Pinto managed to mutter as he collapsed.

“Joe Hannigan,” Diggs declared. “And Pat's yonder in the woodpile. This 'un?”

“Thought to make himself a name,” Pinto said. “And I don't even remember it. Four more down by de cornfield.”

“And two at the road,” Ryan Richardson added as he draped an arm around his son. The others then set about dragging the bodies from the shambles of a house. Pinto lay on the kitchen table and let Elsie bind his leg.

“You came,” Truett whispered as pain shot up Pinto's side.

“Guess I'm not such a lone wolf as I figured. huh?” Pinto asked.

“Long as you're figurin' things, is it time to call up a preacher?” Elsie asked as she examined Pinto's arm.

“Buryin' kind?” Pinto said, studying her eyes as pain ate at him. “Marryin' kind,” she said, grinning.

“Might as well marry you while he buries them Hannigans,” Truett suggested.

“Might's well,” Pinto agreed. “If it's what you want, Elsie.” “Always was,” she answered. “And I judge, with two bullets to get cut from your hide, you won't be in any shape to run away!”

“No need,” he told her. “I'm home.”