CHAPTER TWENTY

Frank Forrest did not want to die but was not afraid of

death. He had faced it a thousand times during the war and

before, bounty hunting in the territory around Peaceville.

Most times he could figure the odds and if they were not in

his favor could chose to take the risk and wait for a more

propitious time. But now, as he was led from the jailhouse

behind the sheriff"s office in the cold, early light of a new

day his death was inevitable and he was in no position to

either delay or avoid it. His hands were tied behind his back

and two ropes had been looped around his chest and pulled

tight. A man held the end of each, forcing Forrest to walk a

line equidistant between the two. Another man was behind

him, prodding him with the muzzle of a rifle in the small of

his back.

But Forrest walked to meet his fate with something

akin to dignity, holding his head high, his face pale and

drawn from lack of sleep, set in an expression of calm

acceptance. The large gathering of people grouped around

the gallows ahead of him along the street held no menace

for Forrest and although the sight of the noose swinging

gently from the gallows caused his throat to become dry, he

knew it meant a quick, clean end to life. He had seen a lot

of men die far worse deaths. A great many he had

dispatched personally.

They were passing the hotel now and a head appeared

at a second floor window, caused the men on the ropes to

stop, jerking Forrest to a halt.

“Hey, Edge has escaped,” the kid at the window

shouted, a hand going to his throat and coming away

covered in blood.

The name wasn"t the one Forrest knew the man by,

but it was close enough. All Forrest"s calmness and quiet

140

acceptance of fate drained from him with the words of the

kid and his body was shaking with a cold that had no

relevance to the chill of the morning air.

“Let"s go,” he implored his captors, moving forward,

jerking on the ropes. “You" gotta protect me" till we get

there.”

The men on the ropes and the men at the back with

the rifle moved with Forrest, took several steps on the run

before regaining the upper hand and forcing down the pace.

Four pairs of eyes raked the street on either side, searching

facades and roofs, alleys and sidewalks for a tell-tale

movement that would betray Edge"s position. Each man

showed naked fear in his face, but by far the greatest terror

was evident in the roving eyes and trembling lips of

Forrest, for whom death had suddenly become awe-

inspiring.

“Don"t let him get me,” he muttered, and kept

repeating the claim on a rising tone.

“Shut up,” the man behind him barked, jabbing the

rifle muzzle forcefully into his back.

“If you see him, shoot me before you try for him.”

“Shut up,” the man said again, ineffectually, knowing

there was nothing with which he could threaten Forrest to

outweigh the terror of the stranger named Edge.

The cause of Forrest"s abject fear watched the scene

from a place of concealment behind the angles roof of the

church at the north-west corner of the intersection. He

could see clearly over the heads of the waiting crowd,

across the top of the gallows its raised platform and down

the length of the street. He had heard the muffled shout

from the hotel, seen Forrest"s panic and the captors" actions

to control it. The crowd had heard and seen this, too, and

from the obvious agitation Edge knew they had reached the

same conclusion he had. The atmosphere grew more tense

with each yard that was covered by the approaching

prisoner and escorts.

141

Although the scene before him was a panorama that

invited his examination of every detail, Edge concentrated

his entire attention upon the object of his hate, fastening his

hooded eyes upon the quivering face of Forrest, seeing

every blind, each nervous tic of the cheek, counting the

flicking of the tongue over dry lips. When the group

reached the foot of the steps leading up to the gallows

platform Forrest"s knees began to buckle as the fear turned

his muscles to jelly. The men who held the ropes dropped

them and moved quickly to the prisoner to support him,

push him up the steps to where Honey waited – the elected

hangman.

Beneath the gallows, the hanging rope brushing the

side of his face, Forrest found new strength, made an

almost enthusiastic attempt to push his head into the noose.

He missed and Honey reached out and completed the job.

The silence then was so complete it was as if the world had

stood still.

“You killed Jamie!”

The accusation hurled down through the silence from

the roof of the church seemed to have physical force that

stunned everybody who heard it so that there was a

pregnant time lapse before every head was turned to look at

Edge. They saw him sitting astride the angle of the roof,

aiming the Starr, barrel resting on the wrist of the crooked

arm.

“Rhett killed him,” Forrest screamed back. “That"s

why I blasted him. You must have seen him.”

“I saw him,” Edge replied. “Move out of the way.”

The last was addressed to Honey, who had stepped in

front of the condemned man, interrupting Edge"s line of

fire. The two men who had led the prisoner to the gallows

crowded in on each side.

“It"s going to be a legal execution,” Honey said as the

first ray of sunshine of the new day angled down the street,

142

released between the twin peaks of a mountain range to the

east.

“I"m taking Forrest,” Edge said evenly. “I take a few

more with him, makes no difference to me.”

He squeezed the trigger and the slug zinged

downwards. The man on the right yelled in pain and went

sideways, clutching his shoulder. Edge grunted as he noted

the gun pulled to the right, made allowances for this in

taking aim again. But the man on the other side of Forrest

saw he was next and went off the gallows in a shallow dive,

hitting the dirt just as the bullet struck the wood where he

had been standing. Several men in the crowd went for their

guns, but not one drew. There was something about the

man on the roof, about his voice and the way he held

himself, about his utter coolness in leaving himself exposed

that threw fear into every one of them.

Honey saw the barrel of the Starr swing in an arc on

to him and hesitated only a moment. He ducked, turned and

launched himself around the side of Forrest, stretched

fingers clutched for the lever to open the trap door.

Completely exposed, Forrest was frozen into an attitude of

stiff terror as he looked at the figure silhouetted against the

skyline.

Squeeze, crack, cock: squeeze, crack, cock – the

motions and sounds were repeated four times as Edge

emptied the gun. The first slug took out Forrest"s right eye,

the second entered just below the left, the third pierced his

throat and the fourth went over his head. Honey"s hands

found the lever and Forrest dropped, the movement robbing

Edge of a final hit.

Edge sighed, lowered the gun as smoke curled from

its muzzle and surveyed the shocked faces of the crowd

below him. He held the gun out, cocked it and squeezed the

trigger.

All heard the dry click that told of an empty cartridge.

Edge tossed the gun down to the ground, swung his legs off

143

his perch and slid down the roof, leapt the final six feet to

the ground from the eaves.

The crowd divided, allowing him passage and he

walked through the space, looking to neither left nor right,

his expression showed nothing of what he felt. He halted in

front of the gallows, looked up dispassionately at the body

of Forrest, twisting slowly on the end if the rope. He eyed

the bloodied face and made a throaty sound of satisfaction.

“Figure he was dead before he dropped,” he said.

Honey seemed about to argue the point, but the evil

glint in Edge"s eyes warned him off. He reached out and

swung Forrest around so he could see his face. He

grimaced at the sight, nodded.

“Be obliged to have my weapons back,” Edge

requested.

“They"re in the sheriff"s office,” Honey said, licking

his lips. Then he was reminded, reached out and ripped the

star from the unresisting Forrest.

Edge gave a cold grin of approval, turned and started

down the street. He stopped off at the hotel first, his too-

tight boots echoing hollowly in the empty lobby.

Everybody had been at the hanging. He found the cash box

under the desktop and removed four dollars fifty. Then he

went to his room, from which the kid had disappeared,

crossed to the window and leaned out to take his capital

from behind the loose shingle. Rather than go back through

the hotel he stepped out of the window and swung down to

the sidewalk from the porch. As he crossed towards the

sheriff"s office he looked back down towards the

intersection, saw the crowd still grouped around the

gallows, from which Honey appeared to be making a

speech. Edge spat and went inside as the sun raised clear of

the mountain range and began to make its warmth felt.

His rifle, revolver and knife were neatly arranged on

the desk and he stowed the smaller weapons in their

appropriate places. Then he sat behind the desk and felt the

144

full weight of his weariness settle upon him like a heavy,

warm blanket. He did not think he had ever felt so tired in

his life before. He could quite easily have allowed his chin

to drop forward to his chest and invited sleep to claim him.

But he refused to acknowledge his fatigue, stood and

moved to a rough hewn bureau in one corner of the office,

upon which rested a piece of broken mirror and a basin of

stale water. He splashed the water on to his face,

experienced a slight freshening up. One of the bureau

drawers was jutting open a few inches and a word on a

paper he could see caught his attention. He jerked open the

drawer to its full extent and saw a collection of wanted

posters. The top one showed a fresh faced cleanly shaven

young man in a captain"s uniform, above the badly printed:

WANTED

FOR THE MURDER OF WAR VETERAN

ELLIOT THOMBS

Former captain J. C. Hedges.

Edge snatched up the piece of mirror and looked at

his reflection: at the cruel, hooded eyes, thin mouth line,

the water-beaded beard that sprouted from sun-toughened

skin. He grinned. The army picture, completed on the day

he was commissioned, bore not the slightest resemblance to

the man he was now. A laugh ripped from his lips as he

tossed the wanted poster back, slammed the drawer shut.

When he turned, he again became aware of the depth

of his tiredness. For had not the lack of rest dulled the

edges of his alertness, Gail and Honey could not have got

within yards of the office doorway without him knowing of

their approach. As it was, they were even inside the office.

“We would like you to stick around for a while,

senor?” Honey said.

145

Edge saw that they were both unarmed. A glance at

the windows both left and right revealed an empty street. If

he had read an implied threat into the words, he was wrong.

“What?”

“I think you heard, Mr. Edge,” Gail said. “The

Citizen"s Committee held another meeting.”

“Who else do you want me to kill?” Edge snapped.

Gail shook her head. “Nobody. The town needs a

peace officer until we can send for a regularly appointed

lawman. And...”

“And you want me to take the job?” Edge asked with

a flicker of surprise.

“Were you aiming to go someplace special?” Honey

asked.

“Mr. Edge doesn"t like personal questions, Honey,”

Gail put in hurriedly, and looked expectantly at Edge.

“Well?”

“How much? No place special.”

“Two dollars a day, free board here and all you can

eat at the restaurant.”

“Four dollars,” Edge said. “And I leave whenever I"m

ready.”

“Three and we want to know a week before you

leave.”

The woman"s eyes were locked onto Edge"s and she

showed no sign of weakening in her resolution.

“Badge?” Edge asked and held out his hand.

Honey tossed the star and saw it caught easily, pinned

to the new sheriff"s shirt-front. Edge looked up and grinned

and Gail thought there might have been just a twinkle of

humor in the narrowed eyes.

“Let"s go and get that first free breakfast,” Edge said,

hefting the Henry. “All this killing gives a man an

appetite.”

Honey and Gail stood aside to allow him through the

doorway, and followed in his wake. Both cannoned into

146

him when the sound of hoof beats on hard ground froze

Edge into a posture of readiness. He eyes swept up the

street, searching for the source of the sound, suddenly saw

two riders swing into view around the corner of a building

at the end of town.

“Inside,” Edge barked, and heard Gail and Honey

scamper into the cover of the sheriff"s office.

Edge himself took the final step that brought him to

the limit of the sidewalk and stood waiting. He recognized

the riders as two of the three kids who had jumped him in

the alley: one with a wad of dressing where his right ear

should be, the other with his face scarred by the marks of

Edge"s fingers.

“You bastard, you broke Eddie"s back,” the one-eared

kid yelled as he raised his revolver, but needed to be closer

before opening fire.

Edge squeezed the trigger of the Henry and the bullet

caught the kid clean between the eyes, knocked the kid

sideways out of the saddle, to be dragged along for several

yards before his foot came free of the stirrup. The other kid,

shocked by what had happened to his friend, tried to wheel

his horse away from Edge, dropping his gun as he pulled at

the reins. Edge waited until the kid was level with him and

not three yards from the muzzle of the rifle. Then he

squeezed the trigger twice, his hand a mere blur of

movement as he ejected the first shell. The large caliber

bullets took the top of the kid"s head off like it was a

breakfast egg and he fell alongside his partner in crime,

both their young faces looking up at Edge until the

pumping blood obliterated their features.

Edge heard a gasp behind him and turned to find Gail

holding onto Honey"s arm for support after she had looked

at the youngsters.

The new sheriff of Peaceville spat into the street. “I

think I just solved the town"s juvenile crime problem,” he

147

said, then narrowed his eyes, puzzled. “Or ain"t that

fashionable here yet?”

THE END

BUT THE LONER WILL RETURN

148