Ballard and McCall 3 by Neil Hunter

Author:Neil Hunter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: old west, western fiction, western ebook, neil hunter, western frontier fiction, wild west stories, western online, ballad and mccall
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Chapter Ten

McCall acted out of nothing less than instinct as he saw Flag’s Colt lining up on him. The Henry, already tracking, held, then spat flame as McCall eased back on the trigger. The .44 slug slammed into Flag’s shoulder, no more than an inch from his other wound. Flag let out a startled yell and fell back, his revolver discharging into the air.

From somewhere in the growing crowd of men filling the street Perry Culhane yelled out.

‘That’s him. McCall. The one who attacked us. We saw him burn some poor bastard. Now he’s shot Ty Flag.’

The scene froze for seconds. In that hesitant space McCall heard Monk’s hoarse voice from where lay on the ground.

‘Get the hell away from here, McCall. Perry’s after a lynch mob.’

McCall heard.

And also picked up the rising yells from the crowd.

It was, he decided, less about standing his ground and more about saving his skin.

He didn’t debate the matter. McCall turned about and broke from the street, his long legs carrying him into the dark alley that ran alongside the jail. He never once looked back. But he heard a number of shots and the harsh sound they made as slugs thudded into the walls of the ally. He reached the end and swung hard left, careering without pause along the back lots of buildings, striding over refuse and sundry pieces of junk.

Hell, Mrs. McCall, your boy is in a heap of trouble this time.

He maintained a tight grip on the Henry, glad the Marshal of Culhane kept all his weapons fully loaded. He wasn’t about to go on a killing spree but it was as certain as night followed day he was not going to make it easy for the ones chasing him.

He only paused once, when he saw dark figures crowding the alley behind him, and McCall laid down a trio of shots, placing them above head height, but close enough to force his pursuers to draw back.

As he reached the far end of the street McCall saw the dark bulk of the livery stable. He broke clear of the last building and ran across the open space. He went around the rear of the stable, stepping inside the big rear doors. Familiar smells reached. The sounds of restless horses. He moved quickly down the length of open stalls. He had a hope that he might see his own horse there, and for the first time since he had ridden into Culhane, McCall’s luck dealt him a choice card.

His black horse stood, muzzle down in a hay trough, still saddled and from what McCall saw nothing had yet been removed from the animal. He leaned the Henry against the side of the stall, removed the tie rope and took up the reins. The black resisted for a moment, then seemed to recognized McCall. It followed him without any fuss. McCall picked up the Henry, swung into the saddle and urged the horse back the length of the livery and out through the rear doors.

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