the LEGEND of She-Cat

Chapter Sixteen

The air was cooler outside. Walking away from the lights and noise of the tent city, Duncan found himself uncoiling just a little, tension ebbing away the more distance he put between himself and the hordes of other people. It made him relax, almost too much, but he'd lived on the difference of a split-second many times. The rough grate of fabric against wood, the crunch of a pebble beneath a boot heel came from behind.

He lunged toward the side of a building just as a pistol stabbed flame from the night, a bullet shrieking past his ear. His temper, mostly settled from a full meal, began to boil.

"Ya hit 'im?"

"Blast it! I ain't sure!"

Reaching the wall, Conner stayed in a crouch, moving toward the voices. It was a good bet they would not expect such a move and be unprepared for him to close the gap. He could just make out two forms slightly darker than the night around them.

"You said this would be a cakewalk!"

"Keep yer voice down!"

"Ross said he was sure it was Webber, Will! If he's come back-"

"For the love of God, Carter, shut yer trap!" Will's voice had a cutting edge to it, and his partner clammed up. "If he was comin' back, he wouldn't stop for a meal first! He been warned to stay gone!"

Breathing slow and easy, Duncan waited, his back pressed against the damp coolness of a watering trough. He began to think the two ambushers knew the man he'd found dead in the prairie, knew him and disliked him. It was also becoming apparent they figured he was the dead man, Sid Webber, which meant the news had come from the old hostler. They were moving nearer now, almost passing by when a side door abruptly jerked open. A bright square of amber light spilled along the street exposing them all.

For a startled instant the three men looked at each other then the two partners swung their drawn guns toward him. Duncan's hand swept down and up in a seamless, lightning move, the Colt belching fire. A misty red cloud appeared at Will's neck, his head jerking back as he stumbled then fell, dead. Carter gave a frightened cry but his arm was lifting and Duncan shot him through the brisket. He folded over with a whimper, slowly sagging to his knees before crumpling to the ground on his face.

Breathing hard, his body primed for action, Duncan waited to a slow five before getting up, approaching the two dead men. Only a fool did not make certain a downed man was a dead one. Getting shot in the back wasn't hard, many a man making that last mistake before heading to boot hill. Satisfied, he reloaded the empty chambers while glancing over at the white face of the girl who'd seen it all. She was all of sixteen, gray eyes like saucers.

"Sorry, miss. I didn't mean for you to see that."

"You..." she breathed it in a whisper, but he shook his head, taking a step nearer. Slipping behind the door, she partially hid from him. Conner holstered his pistol, lifting his hands in peace.

"I won't hurt you,"

"Run," she whispered raggedly. "You need to run."

"You saw it, didn't you? They were huntin' me, and both were armed and facin' me when I shot them."

"Don't matter," her eyes were huge, brimming with tears. "They worked for him, and he'll hang you."

"Sheriff? I didn't know there was one-"

"Mister, you need to run!" It was a plea as a tear streaked down her cheek. "Ain't no real law here anymore, but he does as he wants, an' nobody stands against him. Nobody! If you don't go now, you'll never get away."

"Who?"

But the girl slammed the door shut, throwing the street into darkness. Puzzled, Duncan turned his attention to the two dead men. They figured him the man Webber, thinking he'd be easy pickings and guessed wrong. Typical of life in a boomtown, where most men were looking to take all they could, regardless of who it might belong to. Still, he was a stranger here and if those two had friends, he'd need to watch his step. It might be a good idea to pull out, camp in the prairie and ride in tomorrow.