Chapter 15 #4
He had only seconds to act; Gideon was already on his feet and trying to get a view of the interior, but the position of the door blocked his efforts.
When he moved to get around it, Morgan shoved it hard at him.
The heavy steel door struck him solidly in the side before he could get out of the way.
“Cover your eyes, Finn,” Morgan said.
Finn did. He made himself as small as he could in Mr. Webb’s big chair and pressed the heels of his hands hard against his eyes. Something in the deadly calm of Mr. Longstreet’s voice warned him to do that.
Morgan already had possession of the gun that had been placed in the safe for him when he gave Finn the directive. Jumping to his feet, he took quick aim with the Colt as Gideon was lifting his own weapon and fired.
* * *
Jane squeezed her eyes shut as she set one hand on Marcie’s hip and the other in her apron pocket at the level of his groin.
Her fingers folded around the hilt of the paring knife.
Her knuckles brushed his button fly as she twisted the blade and aimed.
Her touch had stirred his blood. Jane hoped all of it had settled between his legs.
She struck hard and sure and the knife sliced through layers of fabric as easily as if she were back in the kitchen slicing potatoes. She kept that in mind as she struck again.
And again.
* * *
Gideon got off one shot as he staggered back.
The bullet ricocheted off the safe’s steel door.
It was Finn, not Gideon, who cried out. Morgan pushed the door out of the way and grabbed the boy out of the chair with one arm while he kept the Colt aimed at his brother.
That Finn could stand at all he took as a good sign. He pushed the boy behind him.
“Drop the gun, Gideon. You set the rules. You know I don’t have time. Drop it!”
Gideon looked at the open safe and then back at Morgan. “You knew I would come for the money. The gun was waiting for you. I bet you knew the com—”
Morgan fired again, this time taking aim at Gideon’s wrist. The bullet only grazed him, but it was enough to make him drop the gun. “Don’t move! Finn? No, stay where you are. Hold onto me. Were you hit or were you frightened?”
“My right leg’s burnin’ somethin’ fierce, Mr. Longstreet, but I reckon I was scared pretty good, too.”
“All right. I’m going to get you to Doc Kent’s.”
“There ain’t time,” said Finn. “You said yourself, you don’t have time.”
Gideon chuckled. Blood was seeping from the wound in his shoulder. He slipped his injured hand under his coat and pressed his palm against it. “Hard choices.”
“You let me hold the gun on him,” said Finn. “I know all about ridin’ the longhorns of a pretty big dilemma, and you shouldn’t have to wrestle that steer now. You gotta go. Dix will be here. He’s got to have heard the shots.”
“You heard the boy. It’s a pretty big dilemma. I’m guessing you’d want to know that I left your missus with a man who served time for raping his sergeant’s wife.”
Morgan loosed Finn’s grasp on him and stepped forward to kick Gideon’s weapon out of the way. With Gideon’s attention at his feet, Morgan flipped the Colt in his hand, held it by the barrel and clubbed Gideon in the side of the head with the ivory grip.
Gideon slid down the wall to the floor, where he slowly toppled sideways.
Morgan picked up the Remington, took out the cylinder pin, removed the cylinder, and thrust the gun into Finn’s hands. He further surprised the boy by hefting him over his shoulder. “We’re leaving by the front door.”
They made it halfway across the lobby when Dix called from behind them to stop.
Morgan turned, fired twice, and dropped Dix where he stood.
He was done picking locks, so when he reached the bank’s entrance, he kicked the door until it gave way and then he carried Finn outside to where the wind was biting and brisk and where people were congregating in spite of it.
* * *
“You cut off my goddamn cock!” Marcie screamed. “Jesus, lady, you cut off my—”
Jane shoved him away and stepped back at the same time.
His fingers were so deeply embedded in her hair that he took some of it with him.
For a moment, tears blurred her vision. She was still able to see the spread of blood staining his trousers before he bent over and cupped his groin.
Only seconds passed before blood began to seep through his fingers.
Jane thought she would be sick, but when she held up the bloody knife she was filled with an eerie calm.
She made quick, jabbing motions with the knife so that he was forced to bob and weave and protect himself at the same time.
Tears flooded his eyes. One of them followed the path of his scar. Jane did not care.
When she had backed him into the washroom, she slammed the door shut and leaned against it just long enough to catch her breath.
On the other side of the door, Marcie stopped howling and began to whimper.
She imagined that he was checking the condition of his parts.
Jane doubted that she had cut off his penis but wondered if perhaps what she had done was not worse.
There was so much blood, so much bright red blood, that she thought she might have cut into his femoral artery.
“There are towels in there. Use them to press hard on your injuries.”
“Go to hell, lady. I’m gonna bleed all over your goddamn floor.”
It occurred to Jane that he was angry enough that he might live after all.
She dropped the paring knife in her apron pocket and walked to the other side of the wardrobe.
She put her shoulder against it and heaved.
Her feet slid on the floor and the wardrobe did not budge.
She dug in again and pushed harder. This time it slid inches.
Again, and it moved far enough to block half the washroom door.
She stopped using her shoulder and put her back into it instead. The wardrobe moved the rest of the way.
Jane stood on tiptoes to reach Marcie’s gun and holster.
She caught the edge of the belt with her fingertips and pulled it toward the edge.
She carefully took it down and removed the gun from the holster.
After tossing the belt aside, she opened the cylinder, saw that all chambers were loaded, and closed it again.
Satisfied, she went to the adjoining bedroom and freed Max. She gave him Marcie’s gun. She picked up Morgan’s Colt on her way to the kitchen. It was lying on the floor just where Gideon had kicked it. She set it on the table while she untied Rabbit.
“Are you hurt, Mrs. Longstreet?” It was Rabbit’s first question when she removed his gag. It was the same one Max had asked.
Jane looked down at herself. Her apron front was stained with blood. Marcie’s blood. “I’m fine.”
Rabbit’s cheeks ballooned as he blew out a long breath, and then he dared to ask the question that Max had not. “Did you really cut off his piss whistle?”
* * *
Ted Rush was the first person Morgan recognized when he waded into the crowd. He put Finn in Ted’s arms and told him to take the boy to Dr. Kent. “Finn will tell you everything. Send Bridger after me.” He grabbed Ted by the collar when the man stared dumbly at him. “Send the marshal after me!”
Morgan let him go, spun on his heels, and ran off toward the alley. Someone in the crowd must have thought it would be a good idea to shoot him first and sort it out later because he heard Finn scream with bloodcurdling ferocity to drop the gun. So much for the ordinance against carrying.
He ducked into the alley and ran to the back of the bank. He untied Condor, but it was Sophie that he mounted. If the gelding could keep up, he was welcome to come.
Morgan took the straight route out of town that none of them had discussed going in.
He wanted to be noticed now. He and Sophie emerged from the alley as if they had been catapulted from a slingshot.
The crowd scattered, and no one tried to shoot him this time.
Their trail down the middle of the street was as true as a compass needle and as quick as a bead of mercury.
* * *
Avery surrendered without drawing his weapon except to toss it on the bunkhouse floor.
It pained him some that he was outmaneuvered by a man who could only see out of one eye and a woman who had to hold her gun in two hands to keep it steady.
They had him crosswise before he knew what was happening. His chest made for a very large target.
The boy entered when they called for him and cut through the ropes that secured all three Davis brothers to the bunkhouse’s center post and to each other.
They stood, shook out their cramped limbs, massaged their wrists, and then took turns raining blows on Avery’s head, his stomach, and occasionally, his groin.
Jem, in particular, seemed to enjoy every punch he landed.
They stopped when Mrs. Longstreet called a halt, but by then, Avery was already on his knees.
The brothers made the same short work of tying him up as they had of beating him up.
* * *
Once Morgan set Sophie on her course, he never looked back. He carried no timepiece except the one in his head. He counted out the seconds, the minutes, and he, the godless man, prayed that he would arrive in time.
* * *
Rabbit brought the buckboard to the front of the house.
He was flanked by Jem and Jake on one side and Jessop and Max on the other.
They were mounted, ready to ride. There had been no debate, no disagreement when Jane had said they must go.
They were waiting for her now because she had gone back into the house at the last moment.
There was something she had to do, she told them, before she went out to meet Morgan.
They let her go. Not one of them would stand in the way of her unwavering faith that Morgan was coming back.
When she left them, she was wearing her black velvet hat with the spray of scarlet poppies. When she returned, the hat was gone, replaced by a red woolen scarf. It covered her hair and wrapped around her throat. The long fringed tails were knotted once.
Rabbit held out his hand to help her up. She thanked him, thanked all of them, and then the wagon began to roll.
* * *
Morgan saw them as silhouettes. Four men on horseback, two people in a wagon. He thought Sophie must have seen them, too, because she dug deep and flew. The last hundred yards were a blur, but Sophie’s speed did not wholly account for it.
* * *
Jane jumped out of the wagon before Rabbit brought it to a full stop.
She spread her arms high and wide as Morgan pulled Sophie up hard and threw himself out of the saddle.
His momentum carried him into Jane’s embrace.
He lifted her off her feet. She held on as he spun them round and round.
She thought his shout of joy, of relief, rode the wind all the way back to Bitter Springs.
He set her down and cupped her face. He kissed hard. He kissed long. He unwound her scarf to thread his fingers in her hair…and stopped.
“Jane?” He felt for pins, for combs. There were none.
He gently ran his hand over the crown of her dark hair until he reached the blunt, cropped ends at the level of her jaw.
The ragged cut went all the way around. Sifting through it with his fingertips, Morgan bent his head and placed his mouth against her ear.
“You are my life, Jane. Whatever’s been done, this will grow back. ”
It was then that his strong, fearless warrior wife burst into tears.