Peacemaker

Chapter 7

I ran ducking from boulder to boulder, Outcropping to outcropping, cover to cover until I reached the treeline. The shooter sitting off in the trees was still a decent shot. Every shot he made was half an inch from my body and head. If I were to stop, he'd definitely hit his mark. As soon as I could, I ducked behind a dead pine tree, about eighteen inches in diameter. The rifleman cracked off another shot, burying the bullet into the tree. I felt the impact through the wood with my back.  The bastard was using something big enough to put a buffalo down. If that hit me dead on, there's no guarantee I'll get back up from it. 

The gunman held his fire, I could sense that he was waiting for an opening to take me down. The forest held its breath as I planned my next move. I tightened my grip around the rifle in my hand, the leather of my gloves creaking as I squeezed on the hardwood stock of the gun in my hands. That's when it came to me. I just had to figure out where this guy was, make him put his head down, and move toward him.

I racked the lever on the rifle, then leaned out. A shot from a few hundred yards up the mountain splintered a part of the tree I was behind. I recoiled back as the wooden splinters peppered my face. Some dug into my cheeks, others bounced off harmlessly. In all, it felt like I got whacked by a porcupine. Stung like hell, but I had to push on. I had an idea as to where the shooter was, now I had to go on with my plan. 

Again, I peeked out. This time my rifle was raised. I fired, and continued to fire until I felt it was good to move up. When I bolted, I had barely enough time to get against a rock before another shot rang out. The ricochet whizzed off into the distance as the slug bounced off the stone. I went to lean out and fire, but as soon as I got a bead drawn on where I thought the shooter was, I was shoved back, spinning once as I fell. I hit the ground, and felt the blood pooling under my shirt. My right arm was useless now. I couldn't move it, let alone hold a rifle with it. 

I gritted my teeth and sat up. "Sonovabitch!" I growled as I slung the rifle over my left shoulder and drew the peacemaker from its holster. I knew that pistol wasn't gonna do more than maybe kill the sticks about fifty yards up the incline. But nothing more. 

I shook my head then stumbled back up to the rock. Sitting behind it and holding my injured shoulder, I had only two options. Run ahead, push through the pain and get that bastard before the others decided to follow me up here, or sit here and bleed. 

I cussed, then broke from the rock. Running up hill. Shots from that rifleman rang out once more. One hit my leg, right in the thigh. Another hit me in the side. I stumbled at the second hit. But pushed up the hill. Eventually, I reached the sharpshooter's post. But he wasn't there. Just a scoped buffalo rifle, some spent casings, and a half empty box of 45-90. I stood there a moment, looking around the forest. Before I could turn to face him, the bastard jumped out from behind a tree with a knife. Again, I was on my back. My pistol skidded across the forest floor, and the lack of use from my other arm made reaching for my navy pointless. Especially when my only good arm was preoccupied with keeping the eight inch steel blade from punching a hole in my chest. 

The bastard spoke, his voice excited and sinister. "I have never seen a man shrug off bullets like a grizzly bear, friend. Don't worry though, I have yet to meet one who can survive a knife in the heart!"

He pushed, and I resisted. All at once, with a battlecry, I surged up. Pushing the knife back and throwing the outlaw off me. He landed on his back, and scrambled to his feet. The wicked grin was replaced with a snarl. I stood up and drew my knife. He was too close for a gun, even if I had one that I could use in my current state. 

I held the knife in a tight grip, and waited for the sonofabitch to make the first move. And he did, with the classic outlaw abandon that I knew. He lunged forward, and missed as I sidestepped. He tried slashing at my chest, which lead to me jumping back just out of reach before closing back in and landing a solid cut across his belly. He growled as he patted his stomach and looked at the blood. 

Tired, wounded, and angry, I taunted. "C'mon! You just gonna stand there and get pissed over a ruined shirt or are we gonna finish this!?"

He gave into the goading, and instead of charging at me with the knife first, he tackled me back to the pine needles. Again, he wrestled with me. That same knife now trembled over my chest, as my own now joined my pistol out of reach along with my hat. I was running out of options fast. 

Then I found my opening. He relented just for a moment to begin trying to force his way down onto my forearm. I bared my teeth and redirected the knife into what I hoped was a part of my body that wouldn't kill me outright. With one exertion, I moved my arm just low enough for the knife to get caught in my lower abdomen just above my left hip. As soon as I felt the blade cut it's way in, I headbutted the bastard. He recoiled as I reached for his rifle. The damned gun was loaded, meaning I wouldn't have to waste any more time. He gave me one last malicious stare before I squeezed the trigger. The rifle barked with a plume of smoke as it tore a hole through the gunman's chest. He didn't even have time to curse before he was dead. His body hit the pine needles and sticks of the forest floor with a solid thump. 

I climbed back to my feet, pulling the knife out of my body. Wincing at the burning pain, I grabbed my pistol, rifle, knife, and hat. Just before I decided to push back up the mountain, I decided to grab the rifle and the last few cartridges. Thought it would be best to have something with some extreme range just in case I needed it. 
Once I had the rifle slung over my other shoulder, I pushed on. A bleeding vestige of some vengeful soul, trudging through the trees and sticks.