Inferno by J. A. Johnstone

Author:J. A. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2011-11-16T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

With all the shots and echoes of shots racketing around in the canyon, the blast of one more Winchester was lost.

But the results were startlingly evident. The Apache who had unwisely lifted his head flew backward as The Kid’s steel-jacketed slug bored through his skull and exploded out again in a pink, grisly shower of blood, brain matter, and bone fragments.

The dead warrior’s body hadn’t hit the ground by the time The Kid worked the Winchester’s lever, shifted his aim, and honed in on another rock. The Apache kneeling behind it, evidently startled by his companion’s sudden death, twisted around to look at the bloody corpse. One of his shoulders stuck out enough for The Kid to see it.

He fired again.

The Apache didn’t make a sound as the bullet shattered his shoulder, but the impact sent him rolling out from behind the rock. He tried to leap to his feet, but shots rang out from the other side of the canyon and he went down again, drilled at least twice through the body. He jerked a couple of times, then lay still.

In a matter of seconds, the odds had improved considerably. However, the Apaches couldn’t give up without a fight. If they left the shelter of the rocks, they would be easy targets. Even though they had set up the ambush, they were pinned down just as much as Kelly and the others were.

Both sides started firing with renewed intensity. Bullets flew back and forth across the canyon, and clouds of powdersmoke drifted through the air.

The Kid added to the hellish clamor by cranking off several rounds as fast as he could work the rifle’s lever. He concentrated his shots on the canyon wall behind the rocks where the Apaches were hidden. Ricochets whined and buzzed around them like angry hornets.

Those hornets had fatal stings. One of the warriors dropped his rifle and stood up, arching his back and trying to reach behind him to the place where he’d been hit. More slugs riddled him, driving him back a step before he pitched forward off the ledge. He turned over a couple times in the air before his limp body thudded to the sandy bottom of the canyon.

By now the remaining Apaches realized they were under attack from above. They lifted their rifles and started peppering the rimrock with slugs. The bullets threw grit into The Kid’s eyes and forced him to roll away from the edge.

He lay there for several moments, using the opportunity to thumb fresh cartridges through the Winchester’s loading gate. When the rifle’s magazine was full again, he tossed his hat aside and crawled toward the rim again. The Apaches seemed to have gone back to shooting at Kelly and the others.

But they had left one man watching for him, The Kid realized as a bullet struck the rim less than a foot from his head as soon as he poked it out. Tiny bits of gravel stung his cheek.

He forced himself not to flinch, and snapped a slug right back at the spot where the shot came from.

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