Ballard and McCall 1 by Neil Hunter

Author:Neil Hunter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: old west, western fiction, texas cowboys, piccadilly publishing, neil hunter, western pulp fiction, wild west fiction
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Before the splinters of wood ripped up by the first volley of shots had reached the boardwalk again McCall had given Ballard a shove.

‘Head for home,’ he yelled.

Ballard took the advice and broke into a run, McCall close behind. They kept close up to the walls of the buildings, hoping to get some sort of cover from the shadows that lay there. Howling slugs followed their progress as they ran almost on all fours. Ballard felt a slug tug at the sleeve of his shirt.

Then McCall lost his footing and fell. He came to his feet in time to see three men running out of an alley across the street. The three had guns in their hands, and they were using them.

‘Chet, watch it!’ McCall yelled.

Ballard swung around and saw the three.

As McCall drew his Colt he felt a slug tear into his left arm. He thumbed back the Colt’s hammer and let go a shot. Beside him, Ballard had added his own Colt. Between them the Texans set up a hail of lead that put the three gunslingers down before they were halfway across the street.

Further down the street men came out of the King High. McCall saw them. He prodded Ballard and indicated the men.

‘Time to retreat,’ Ballard said.

They reached the jail with lead snapping viciously around them. As they came up to the door it swung open and a rifle poked out and began to spit flame and smoke from its muzzle. Keeping low the Texans went in fast. They heard the door slam shut with a heavy crash.

Ernie Peckard, rifle in his hand, leaned against the wall beside the door. He had a smile on his face when he said, ‘When I was a young’un we ran a lot faster than that when somebody shot at us.’

McCall was ripping away his blood soaked sleeve.

‘I ain’t exactly built for runnin’. Sooner have me a good horse any day.’

Outside the firing had died away. For a while it seemed that they were to have a brief respite.

Ballard set himself the job of loading the guns while Peckard cleaned up McCall’s arm. The bullet had only left a flesh wound.

‘Well,’ McCall said, ‘it seems you were right about not knowing what to expect from Temple.’

‘I knew he’d make some move,’ Peckard said. ‘But this is one I didn’t expect.’

Abruptly the light began to fade and darken. Beyond the office windows the empty street took on the desolate look of a ghost town. The sky above Gunner Creek was black from the storm clouds that had been moving that way most of the morning.

The first raindrops fell and were sucked away by the parched, dry earth. But in the next few seconds the full power of the storm unleashed itself on the town. The rain came in solid, blinding sheets. Bouncing and drumming off the rooftops and gathering in ever widening pools in the streets and alleys.

‘Does it always rain like this around here?’ McCall asked.

Peckard glanced up from the strip of cloth he was wrapping round McCall’s arm.

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