Chapter Twenty 

Jimmy leapt to his feet, instantly on alert.  “Stay here,” he ordered Priscilla.  What the hell was going on out there?  It sounded like a gunshot.

He ran from the barn, his eyes searching frantically.  But he could not see anything out of the ordinary.  He began racing toward the house.  He had to make sure Ester and Martin were all right.  Could it have been some kind of accident?  Was one of them hurt? 

He was almost to the house when a blow landed against the side of his head.  Jimmy fell to the ground.  He grunted in pain when someone landed a kick to his ribs.  That kick rolled him over, onto his back, and when he looked up he saw the man standing above him.  He could scarcely comprehend what was happening.  The same man who had called him out in Sweetwater was here!

He cursed himself for dragging innocents into this mess - Martin, Ester and Pricilla.  He should have waited for help.  But he did not and now he was in a world of trouble.  And so was everyone else. 

“Gabe Caulder will rest easier knowing that the job is done,” Tyson Drake said with a sneer.  He pointed his gun at Jimmy.  “I wanted it to be a fair fight but ...” He shrugged.  “I guess this is the way a coward like you should die, running away from a fair fight.”

Jimmy heard the trigger being pulled back and he tensed his muscles, getting ready for the movement he would have to make a move.  He had already decided to roll toward the stump.  It was some kind of cover at least.  Now it was just a matter of timing it right so Drake could not change his angle and even if he was shot, it would not be fatal.

But before the shot was fired, before Jimmy could move, Priscilla whacked Drake in the back with the flat side of the axe Jimmy had been using earlier.  Drake fell to his knees.  Jimmy jumped up and grabbed the man’s arm, smashing his hand against the ground again and again until the gun fell out of it.  He raised his fist and slammed it into Drake’s face. As Drake went limp, Jimmy dropped him and jumped to his feet.  He snatched the gun up and tucked it into the back of his waistband. 

“Jimmy,” Priscilla gasped, her eyes wide with fear, the axe still in her hands.

“Hide,” Jimmy hissed, “and stay quiet.”  He ran for the house, not turning back once.  He did not have time to make sure Priscilla did as she was told.  He could only hope she listened for a change. 

He crept inside the house, looking left and then right.  He stepped quietly, his eyes searching every nook and cranny.  He saw the pot on the woodburning stove, the cooked fruit running down its side.  He saw a number of jars on the counter, all lined up neatly, a dishrag carelessly flung aside, ready to fall to the ground at any moment.  But he did not see a single person. 

He continued his trek further into the house.  It was eerily silent.  His felt a sliver of fear run down his back.  Where could Ester and Martin be?  This was not like them.  Every time he had entered the house this morning for a drink, one of them had called out a hearty greeting. 

As he stepped into the small parlor, he saw Martin, lying on the ground, a puddle of blood forming underneath him.  Jimmy hurried to his side.

Martin let out a soft groan of pain when Jimmy knelt beside him, his eyes searching for injuries.  Martin opened his eyes.  “Bastard shot me as I walked in my own house.”  His voice was barely even a whisper.  “I tried to see how many of them there were,” he continued softly.  “Two?  I don’t know, maybe three.”

Jimmy gently squeezed Martin’s elbow, letting the man know he was there and listening.  “I’ll be right back,” he promised and then he hurried to a bedroom, still watching and listening for any sign of anyone.  It was still too quiet.  But he got what he wanted, a sheet from Martin’s room.  Quickly he hurried back and wrapped it around Martin’s bloody shoulder.  It was not much but it should keep Martin from bleeding to death.   

“I don’t know where Ester is,” Martin told Jimmy, fear filling his face.  “Or your young lady.”

“I told Cill to hide,” Jimmy replied.  He frowned.  Ester should have been in the house.  “I’ll look for Ester.”

As he rose to his feet, Martin called out, his voice trembling. “Be careful.  I don’t know what they want, but they didn’t ask for anything.  They just shot me.”

“They want me,” Jimmy replied grimly. 

Martin tried to speak, but Jimmy shushed him gently.  He walked quickly to the kitchen and scanned the room as well as whatever he could spy out the window.  Nothing.  So he returned to Martin’s side.  “I’m going to have to move you,” he told the older man.  “I want you out of the way.”

Martin began to protest and Jimmy heard him say something about helping him.  Jimmy dragged him to the side of the couch, out of the sight of someone who might come in the front door.  “Thanks,” he said responding to Martin’s mumbled offer of aid.  Martin could not help him.  Jimmy did not think Martin would have assisted him before being shot.  There was no possibility now.  Martin could barely move. 

“But as of now, they don’t know I know they are here or that I have a gun.  I think its best if you stay here, shout out if you see someone coming,” Jimmy added.  Martin did have a view out a window.

Martin sighed.  “A sentry.  Well, I shouldn’t complain, I didn’t help the first time.”  He held Jimmy’s wrist for a split second.  “Be careful, boy.”

Jimmy nodded.  “I’m so sorry,” he said quietly.

“You didn’t shoot me.  Now go,” Martin said briskly, obviously disguising the pain he was in.  He craned his neck, so his eyes were focused on the window and beyond.

Jimmy nodded and went to the front door.  He had decided to circle the house, maybe there would be horses and maybe he could get a count of how many men were after him, maybe he could sneak up on someone else. 

Taking a deep breath, he pulled the door open and went outside, soundlessly pulling the door shut behind him.  He hurried down the steps, his eyes sweeping from side to side.  Blast it; he could not see anyone or anything.  He continued to jog slowly.  He had made it to the side of the house when he heard the roar of gunfire.  Hastening his pace, he ran to the back. 

His heart almost burst out from his chest when he saw another man with pitch black hair and a heavy dark beard there, holding Priscilla by the hair with one hand, a gun in the other. 

“I figured that would smoke you out,” he said with a smirk.  He jerked Priscilla’s head, practically dragging her down the steps.  Jimmy swallowed hard, watching Priscilla get yanked about like a rag doll.  He hated watching what that man was doing to her.  But what worried him most were her eyes.  There was nothing in them, not anger, not sorrow, not even fear. They were empty.  He considered her eyes as blue as a pond on a bright summer day.  But it frightened him to see them simply reflect everything back just like a pond. 

Jimmy then looked at the body on the porch. There lay Ester.  Jimmy could see a dark pool of blood spreading on the porch, until the blood hit the stair and then one drip fell and then another. 

The man motioned to him with his gun hand.  “Walk toward Drake.  I figure he ought to finish you off.”  He rolled his eyes.  “Once the half-wit comes to that is.” 

As Jimmy began to move slowly, he was careful to keep the gun tucked in the back of his pants hidden. 

“This one, I might keep,” he continued.

Slowly Jimmy moved, carefully sidestepping toward the stump. 

The man moved his mouth to Priscilla’s temple and ran his tongue down the side of her face.  Priscilla did not react.  “Aw, I think she likes me,” he said mockingly.  “Don’t you, sweetheart?”

And that’s when Jimmy pulled out the gun and shot the man in the head, taking advantage of his momentary lack of concentration.  He saw Priscilla fall to the ground as well then someone jerked his leg from underneath him.  A burst of blinding light exploded in front him as Drake picked up a rock and hit him in the head with it.  Jimmy could feel himself start to lose consciousness but he fought to stay awake as a fist slammed into his face.  Jimmy felt a wave of nausea go through him as another blow landed in his gut.

Tyson Drake jumped up and ran toward the now lifeless man.  He grabbed the gun from the man’s hand and fired at Jimmy who was struggling to rise to his feet.  Jimmy felt a burning sensation in his side.  But before the blackness overtook him he fired.  He saw Drake fall and then nothing.