Hopeman's Legacy by I J Parnham

Author:I J Parnham [Parnham, I.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Robert Hale Fiction
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

‘Someone in the mob shot at us, but who’s trying to smoke us out?’ Oliver shouted.

‘Buck’s gunmen and the townsfolk are too far away,’ Nimrod said, ‘but who did it isn’t as important as putting the fire out.’

As Nimrod didn’t want to annoy Trinity by helping Oliver to defend the saloon, he indicated he’d check it out. When Oliver didn’t object he ran to the door. He slipped outside, and with his back to the wall, hurried to the corner of the building. He peered down the side of the saloon, and ascertained that the situation wasn’t as bad as he’d feared.

Flames were licking at the wall of the derelict stable that stood next to the saloon, and burning planks had fallen away to lie against the saloon wall. As this was unlikely to be an accident, he moved on cautiously. When he reached the nearest planks he kicked them away from the saloon, finding to his relief that even though they had made smoke pour inside, the flames had yet to burn the wall.

He removed more planks, and reckoned he was making the saloon safe when a gunshot rattled. The blast echoed between the buildings and it made Nimrod duck down and look for the shooter. More gunfire erupted, but this time it came from the saloon as Oliver’s men responded. Heartened by the possibility that the shot hadn’t been aimed at him, Nimrod straightened up again.

He resumed kicking away planks, but then another shot blasted nearby. This time a flurry of gunsmoke emerged from a gap between two planks in the stable wall, while splinters kicked away from the saloon wall confirmed that he had been the target.

Nimrod aimed his gun at the stable, but he couldn’t see the shooter. So in a sudden decision he leapt over the burning planks.

He was in mid-air when to his horror he saw that he’d misjudged how many planks he had to clear. Then he crashed down amidst the burning debris, but his momentum kept him moving and with a tumbling roll he came clear of the fire.

He rolled twice more and batted burning embers from his clothes. Then he looked back, finding that his ungainly passage through the fire had knocked most of the burning debris away from the saloon and had opened up a gap that would let him get into the stable.

The fire had yet to take hold of the stable, so he hurried on. With his head down he burst into the building and then slid to a halt facing the length of wall where the shooter had been. Nobody was there, so he swirled round. The interior was an open space with nowhere to take cover, but he still couldn’t locate the shooter.

‘Don’t move,’ someone said in the shadows at the far corner of the stable. Nimrod didn’t recognize the voice.

‘Your plan to torch the saloon has failed,’ Nimrod said.

The man snorted. ‘You don’t know what my plan is.’

Nimrod nodded, as the man’s choice of words probably identified him.

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