Uriah moon 5, p.11
Uriah Moon 5, page 11
The vigilante slowly glanced back at the covered wagon before sucking hard on his cigarette. As he savored the smoke which filled his lungs he returned his attention to the wooden and brick structures before them. Moon had not approached Apache Springs from this direction before but knew that whichever way anyone entered the sprawling town, the risks remained exactly the same.
He tossed the remainder of his cigarette at the ground and then gathered up his loose leathers and held them high against his chest.
Moon swung the gelded mustang around and rode to the driver’s seat and looked up at the troubled Cal White.
‘Stay here with the ladies, Cal,’ he instructed before turning the sweat covered mustang around and held it in check. ‘I’m gonna go and see what’s happening. If everything is OK, I’ll let you know.’
White touched the battered brim of his hat.
‘I’ll be waiting, Moon,’ he said.
Moon tapped his spurs and rode back toward the three awaiting soldiers as they sat on their horses watching the vigilante’s every move.
The bearded horseman slowed as he approached the troopers and cast his icy blue eyes upon them before uttering his orders.
‘You three come with me,’ he said.
Reluctantly the troopers followed the vigilante. It was like following a white winged eagle as Moon’s mane of long silver hair beat up and down upon his wide shoulders.
From his high vantage point, Cal White watched the four horsemen riding toward the town as the handsome June Marcus leaned over the driver’s seat. He turned his head and looked into her concerned features.
‘Don’t worry, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Moon knows what he’s doing.’
‘I pray that you’re right, Cal,’ she sighed.
Finale
ACRID GUNSMOKE HUNG in the blisteringly hot sunshine as Uriah Moon rode at pace ahead of the three troopers into the northern section of Apache Springs. None of them had any idea of what had occurred only a few moments earlier. Yet the street stank in putrid evidence that death had claimed yet another victim to add to its tally. There was no doubt in the vigilante’s mind of what had happened but where, why and who between remained a mystery which troubled the expressionless rider as he guided the cavalrymen to the very top of the wide main street toward the familiar livery stable.
Moon quickly drew rein and leapt to the ground before entering the dark innards of the aromatic smelling building. His narrowed eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light within the high walled structure.
As the tall man strode in search of the livery stable owner his attention was suddenly drawn to the bed of coals as they apparently came to life and started to fill the livery with a reddish glow. A crimson sprites rose from the glowing coals, Moon stopped and drew one of his trusty Peacemakers before realizing his amused friend was pumping the forge with one of his powerful arms.
The muscular Gus Thorson sat beside the brick forge holding a tin cup in one hand as his other kept pumping the bellows.
‘Where you been, Moon?’ Thorson grinned as the vigilante slid his six-shooter back into its holster. ‘I ain’t seen you in the longest time.’
Moon strode to the forge and warmed his hands beside the blacksmith. He did not answer but stared into the hypnotic coals as they sparkled like rubies before him.
‘I asked you a question,’ Thorson said.
The tall vigilante stroked his lengthy beard and glanced at the seated man.
‘It’s a long story, Gus,’ Moon answered.
‘What you doing with them soldier boys?’ Thorson continued to question the vigilante as he stopped pumping the coals and then picked up the blackened coffee pot which was sat upon the red hot coals. He poured Moon a cup of his strong beverage and watched as his unexpected visitor lifted the cup and sipped at the coffee. ‘At first I thought they were chasing you but the way they’re sitting on their mounts outside makes me think that somehow you are in charge of them. Am I right?’
Moon stroked his long beard again.
‘Yep, I’m in charge of the bastards,’ Moon nodded as he took another sip of his drink. ‘There were four of them but one kinda died.’
‘How?’ Thorson asked as he lowered his own cup from his lips. ‘How’d he die, Moon boy?’
There was a brief silence before the vigilante replied.
‘I killed him,’ Moon said with a wry smile.
The blacksmith gave out a belly laugh. ‘Any particular reason why you killed him?’
Uriah Moon shrugged.
‘Seemed like a good idea at the time,’ he explained.
Thorson rose and stepped to the side of his guest and stared studiously at the trio of mounted troopers before looking to his strange friend.
‘Why are you back here in Apache Springs, Moon?’ he wondered as he warmed his massive hands with the tin cup. ‘I figured you’d be a hundred miles away from this place by now. Why ain’t you?’
Uriah Moon scratched the side of his bearded cheek and raised an eyebrow thoughtfully.
‘I’ve been trying to figure that out myself, Gus,’ The face of Uriah Moon remained expressionless. His eyes flashed in the light of the forge as he turned toward the large man and stared straight at him. ‘My cousin Colonel Ambrose asked me to help rescue two you sisters from Lucifer’s Lair. They were being held prisoners by the Apaches. Anyway, I did and then they roped me into delivering the girls to their next of kin.’
Thorson stared hard at his friend. ‘Did you do it?’
‘Nope. The little lady I was meant to hand over the girls to had been killed before we arrived,’ Moon recalled. ‘Then I got a telegraph from the fort and was told to bring them here to their uncle.’
The blacksmith frowned.
‘What’s this critters name, Moon?’ Thorson asked.
‘Drew Bowen is his handle,’ Moon said before taking another sip of the strong beverage. ‘That’s about all I know of the critter.’
The expression on Thorson’s face changed as he heard the name of the banker. His brow wrinkled up as he walked back to his coffee pot and refilled both their cups.
‘Drew Bowen the banker?’ he said the name as though he were chewing on a chunk of bad meat. ‘Is that the critter?’
Moon silently nodded.
Thorson placed the coffee pot back on the coals. ‘It seems that you nor the army know anything about Bowen. I’d sure not want to leave young innocents with the likes of him.’
The vigilante trusted the blacksmith and did not like the sound of the large man’s words.
Uriah Moon leaned closer. ‘Explain.’
The Lucky Dice saloon was slowly filling with its regular customers when Buck Bryce pushed himself away from the bar counter and whistled at his band of hired gunmen. They all looked in his direction and lowered their whiskey glasses away from their mouths.
Bryce said nothing as he placed a silver dollar in the small boy’s hand and then ushered him out of the saloon. The gunslinger turned back toward his hirelings and grinned widely.
‘The message has been delivered, boys,’ he announced as they all moved closer to their paymaster. ‘Drew Bowen has been informed that his top gun has been killed. That small kid told me where the banker’s house is situated and what it looks like.’
Bryce adjusted his Stetson and signaled his followers to follow. They followed like obedient hounds as the gunslinger pushed his way out of the saloons swing doors and on to the street.
The lifeless body of Shotgun Landis lay exactly where it had fallen upon the sand outside the Salty Sally saloon beside its tethered horse. Not one of the towns inhabitants had ventured anywhere near the corpse since the gunslinger had emptied two gun’s worth of bullets into it.
The deadly Buck Bryce turned his back to the unwholesome sight and squared up to his men.
‘By my reckoning Drew Bowen should be trying to leave town just about now.’ The gunslinger laughed as he mounted his stallion. ‘I reckon we should pay that hombre a visit before he high-tails it. Come on.’
The half dozen men eagerly moved around the hitching rails, freed their long leathers and mounted their horses. They backed away from the twisted rail, turned the string of lathered up mounts and then spurred. The main street resounded with the din of the pounding hoofs as Bryce led his small army toward the other side of Apache Springs in search of his prey.
As the thunderous noise echoed along the entire length of the main street both Uriah Moon and the muscular Gus Thorson walked out into the merciless sunlight beside the three mounted troopers.
‘Did I just hear horses?’ Moon asked the soldiers.
Smith pointed down the street where hoof dust still lingered in the baking sunshine.
‘Yep. A bunch of hombres just come out of that saloon down yonder and headed off,’ the soldier answered. ‘I don’t know who they were but they sure was in a hurry.’
‘Where does this Drew Bowen live, Gus?’ the vigilante asked as he moved closer to his gelded mustang.
‘By my reckoning its roughly in the same direction that those riders are headed, Moon,’ Thorson answered as he sipped at his coffee. ‘Why?’
‘Just curious.’
But Moon was far more than just curious. His gut instinct was telling him that this was all connected somehow. He grabbed his leathers and threw himself up on to the back of his sturdy mustang. He gathered his reins up into his hands as a familiar face rode toward them from the opposite direction. The vigilante narrowed his eyes and stared at the unmistakable rider as he closed in on the livery stable.
It was Billy Rocco from the Double K ranch.
The young horseman stopped his mount near the troopers and smiled at the vigilante.
‘Howdy, Moon,’ he said.
‘Have you any idea where those riders yonder were headed, Billy?’ Moon asked the young cowboy.
Rocco shrugged. ‘I don’t know who they are, but one of them shot and killed Shotgun Landis about thirty minutes ago. That hombre emptied two six-guns worth of bullets into a critter known as Shotgun Landis. He worked for the banker. His body is still lying outside the Salty Sally drawing flies.’
‘He worked for Drew Bowen?’ Moon queried. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yep, I’m certain, Moon.’ Rocco nodded as he steadied his quarter horse. ‘Why?’
Uriah Moon did not have time to explain. He looked around the faces of the bemused troopers and dryly commanded with a gesture of his arm.
‘Come on, boys,’ Moon growled before spurring his gelding in hot pursuit of the unknown riders. The troopers thundered after the vigilante. Billy Rocco gave an excited laugh and drove his spurs into the flanks of his own saddle horse and started to follow the troopers.
Mystified, Gus Thorson scratched his head, turned and walked back into the shade of his livery stable.
Roughly a mile from the livery stable, Buck Bryce steered his stallion to the very end of the main street turned into a side street of mainly red brick structures and then pulled back on his long leathers and stopped his wide eyed mount.
The gunslinger had already dismounted before the rest of his men had caught up with him. They leapt from their saddles and followed their leader toward the only house along the side street with a white picket fence guarding its entrance. Exactly as the young boy had described.
Bryce drew his six-shooters as he neared the front door and kicked it inward without missing a stride. The door fell as the gunslinger ran across its weathered surface and stopped to look around its interior.
‘Where are you, Drew?’ he called out venomously as he staggered into the parlor in search of his chosen prey. ‘Come on out and meet an old friend.’
His words bounced off the plush interior of the house but there was no answer. Bryce stood and swung around on his heels as his eyes searched for the banker.
Then the sound of a horse rang out from a small stable in a yard at the back of the building. Buck Bryce raced to a window and then turned and darted toward an open doorway which led to the backyard.
With each step his lust to send another man to Hell grew.
His eyes focused on the small building at the end of the yard. A structure which was designed for one horse. Bryce raised one of his guns and started toward it when suddenly a startled horse came pounding out of the stable with its master clinging to its saddle. Drew Bowen drove his horse straight at the gunslinger sending him cascading backwards as the horse continued on to a tract of ground at the side of the sturdy structure.
‘Get him, boys,’ Bryce screamed out as he got back to his feet and started firing his six-guns at his fleeing target. ‘Kill the varmint. Kill him.’
But unknown to the gunslinger, the banker had already made his way on to the street and managed to get his horse to leap over the white washed picket fence before any of Bryce’s men were even aware of the attempted escape.
Then the air resounded in the street as each and every one of Bryce’s hired gunmen started to fire their weaponry at fleeing horseman.
Drew Bowen felt his horse suddenly buckle beneath him as it gave out a sickening cry.
Wild shots hit the horse and brought it down sending its rider flying over its neck and landing on the street. As the pitiful animal lay riddled with bullets and the wounded and stunned Drew Bowen desperately crawled on the ground the sound of horsemen filled the entire area.
As the gunmen raced back to their mounts and the helpless banker still on the ground, Uriah Moon led the troopers and Billy Rocco around the street corner with their guns drawn in readiness. The devilish sound of the feverish gunshots had already alerted them that they were heading into the jaws of the unknown.
With bullets flying from the hired gunmen’s weaponry the undaunted Moon hauled back on his reins as the shots were diverted suddenly toward him and his followers. A bullet lifted Moon’s hat off his mane of long hair and sent it spinning into the merciless sunshine.
The vigilante drew one of his guns and started to fire repeatedly at the array of gunmen before he jumped from his saddle and rolled across its sand to where Bowen lay covered in blood.
Moon could see that the wounds were fatal but had yet to drain the life from the banker. He knelt above the prostrate man and continued to fire at Bryce’s quickly dwindling army of followers. He switched weapons and continued to hit his targets with an uncanny ease.
Within seconds each of the troopers and the young cowboy had joined the vigilante on the ground and were firing at Bryce and his men while their terrified horses were racing in all directions.
This was a war. Yet neither side had any idea who they were doing battle with. Men fell like leaves off trees in the Fall and within a mere few moments only a few of Bryce’s hirelings remained on their feet. The troopers had also suffered heavy casualties with only Jerry Davis remaining unscathed by all of the flying lead. Billy Rocco ran to the side of the kneeling vigilante as Moon hastily reloaded his Peacemakers from bullets on his gun belt. The cowboy fired his own .45 at the only two remaining survivors of the gunslinger’s small army.
The screams of the dead and dying filled the street as the shooting frantically continued. Choking gun smoke grew thicker and hung in the bright sunshine as though mocking the men who were still firing their firearms.
Bryce was hunched down at the side of the red brick as his eyes stared at the lifeless Zack Green stretched out a few feet away from him. The gunslinger pulled the last of his bullets from his gun belt and glanced at the kneeling Pepe who was defiantly firing his Winchester in all directions as he vainly tried to see through the cloud of gun smoke which filled the entire street.
As Buck Bryce put the last of his fresh bullets into his guns chambers he saw Pepe lifted off the ground by at least two shots which came from different directions.
Pepe landed at Bryce’s feet. He stared at the gunslinger and somehow smiled as blood poured from his horrendous wounds. He looked at Bryce.
‘This is very bad, señor,’ he managed to say before blood flowed from his mouth and his eyes rolled up into his skull.
The gunslinger cocked his hammers and started to run to the many loose horses out in the street. With every stride he fired his guns at the kneeling vigilante and the crouching cowboy. Yet before he even reached the terrified horses, a bullet tore into the gunslinger’s body and span him on his heels.
Uriah Moon rose to his full height and defiantly aimed and fired his guns through the dense smoke at Buck Bryce.
Succumbing to his wounds, Buck Bryce hit the ground hard at the hoofs of a half dozen of the loose animals. He attempted to get back on his feet when another shot ripped into him.
Bleeding like a stuck hog, the gunslinger fell on to his back and yet still attempted to fire his guns. Yet there was so much gore covering his hands the deadly weapons slipped from his grip. He lay shaking as both Billy Rocco and Moon cast their shadows on the helpless body.
‘Who are you?’ Bryce managed to feebly ask as he stared up at the haunting features of the unholy vision above him. ‘I don’t know you. Who are you?’
‘You might know me but I recognize you, Bryce,’ Uriah Moon drawled with his smoking Peacemakers in his hands.
The shaken trooper Jerry Davis staggered to the side of his comrades and glanced at the dying gunslinger at their feet.
‘What the hell happened here?’ Davis stammered as he looked around at the carnage which surrounded them.
Billy Rocco shrugged and walked away to find his horse as Uriah Moon stared hatefully at the severely wounded gunslinger and cocked the gun hammers of his six-shooters.
Davis looked at the vigilante in shocked horror as Moon squeezed the triggers of his guns and sent two deafening bullets into Bryce’s head.
Moon spat at the gunslinger.
‘What you do that for?’ Davis asked in utter surprise.
‘He was taking too long to die, sonny,’ Uriah Moon answered before turning away. ‘Besides, that critter was sentenced to hang and somehow he escaped justice. All I did was rebalance the scales, Trooper.’
Davis watched as the vigilante walked unsteadily toward his skittish mustang and grabbed its loose leathers. As Moon turned and looked at the last remaining soldier he pointed at the trooper’s fellow soldiers. Both Sam Wood and Chuck Smith lay dead in pools of their own blood.
