Dead Stick (A Lucas Hallam Mystery Book 2) by L.J. Washburn

Author:L.J. Washburn [Washburn, L.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781685490621
Publisher: Rough Edges Press
Published: 2022-03-22T16:00:00+00:00

NINE

The man next to Hallam frowned and then looked from Garrettson to Hallam. "What the hell… ?" he muttered. A similar ripple of confusion went through the whole crowd. Hallam started to turn away, but the man reached out and grabbed his arm. "Hold on a minute!"

"Sorry, friend," Hallam said.

He hit the man in the jaw.

The Klansman staggered, his hand coming off Hallam's arm. Hallam lunged away from him, pressing past other men toward the back of the crowd. A few reached out and tried to stop him, but he was moving faster now, bulling past them almost before they knew what had happened.

"Kill him!" Garrettson shrieked.

Hallam ducked a punch and drove an elbow into the attacker's side, knocking the man out of the way. Others were taking up the chant now, yelling for him to be stopped.

This was going to get ugly in a hurry.

Hallam didn't want to have to shoot his way out of here. He had no sympathy for the Klansmen, but he didn't want to kill any of them, either.

Still, he had heard stories about the floggings and the torture that the Klan handed out to those it considered its enemies. Damned if he'd stand for that.

He burst out of the knot of angry men with blows raining on his back. Sort of like running the gauntlet, he thought fleetingly, and these Klansmen might turn out to be just as dangerous as any Indians. He headed for the parked cars, circling around the old inn and losing precious seconds.

His knee was already aching, a steady throb that turned into a jolt of pain every time his weight came down on that leg. Most of the men behind him were younger and in better shape. He had to slow them down.

Hallam jerked to a halt, spinning around and yanking the Colt out of its holster. He had never been one to fan a revolver. It was hard on the gun and damned near impossible to hit anything when you did it. But sometimes it could have its uses.

The five cartridges in the cylinder exploded in one long, rolling roar of thunder as Hallam used the base of his left hand to slam the hammer back again and again. The slugs went wild, all of them plowing into the ground well in front of his pursuers, but the blast of the gunshots and the flickering flame from the Colt's muzzle made the men scatter.

Hallam ducked around a corner of the inn. The wall here was still partially standing, and it gave him a little cover. He heard shots behind him but didn't wait to see how close they were coming. As he ran, he dug more shells out of his pocket and started reloading the Colt. He glanced over his shoulder, saw robes flapping in the night as the Klansmen rounded the corner.

The flivver was only a few yards away now. Hallam threw another wild shot behind him, then piled into the car, his foot thumping against the starter.

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