Chapter 29

Expecting something like that, The Kid was ready when Mundy struck. He pulled his head aside so the gunman’s fist whipped past his ear. Reaching up to grab Mundy’s arm it was easy to twist around, pull hard on the man’s arm, and send him sailing off the porch. Arturo leaped out of the way as Mundy crashed on the ground, hard enough to knock the air out of his lungs and make him gasp for breath.

“Stop that!” Theresa cried. “Stop that brawling!”

It was too late. The second gunman tackled The Kid, and the two of them tumbled down the steps, landing in a heap at the bottom.

Elam’s man was on top. He hooked a vicious punch into The Kid’s side, then tried to dig his knee into The Kid’s groin. Writhing out of the way The Kid hammered a fist against the side of the man’s head, knocking the gunman away from him. The Kid rolled and came up on one knee.

Mundy had gotten to his feet and swung a kick at The Kid’s head. At that same moment Arturo leaped on Mundy’s back and threw him off balance. With a startled yell, Mundy went down again.

Elam stood at the edge of the porch watching the battle. His face was pinched and had gone white with anger, but he didn’t make any effort to get in the middle of the ruckus.

The Kid made it to his feet as the second gunman scrambled upright and waded in, swinging wild punches. The Kid blocked a couple, but one of the flailing haymakers got through and landed cleanly on his jaw. It was a lucky punch, but it was enough to knock The Kid to the ground again. The gunman rushed in, clearly intending to stomp him half to death.

The Kid caught hold of the booted foot that descended toward his face and gave it a twist and a heave. The gunman toppled with an angry curse. The Kid rolled over, pushed himself to his hands and knees, and looked around.

A few feet away, Jim Mundy had climbed back to his feet. His left hand was bunched in Arturo’s shirtfront, holding him up. His other hand was clenched in a fist and drawn back, poised to smash into Arturo’s face.

The Kid dived at Mundy from behind before he could hit Arturo, catching him around the knees and knocking his legs out from under him. The man lost his grip on Arturo’s shirt, and Arturo scrambled backward, out of the way.

Mundy kicked out at The Kid, catching the younger man in the chest. For a second, The Kid felt paralyzed and unable to breathe. He wasn’t even sure if his heart was still beating.

Rubbing his chest he took a deep breath. Relieved that he wasn’t seriously hurt he blocked a looping punch that Mundy threw and landed a sharp jab of his own to Mundy’s nose, rocking his head back.

The Kid wrapped his hands around Mundy’s neck and locked them in place. Jerking Mundy up a little he slammed the back of the man’s head into one of the paving stones that formed the walk. As angry as he was, he might have smashed Mundy’s head against the rock several more times and crushed his skull, but a foot crashed into The Kid’s side and knocked him sprawling.

As he pushed himself up yet again, the second man rushed him, swinging wildly and letting out a harsh, furious yell.

The Kid stepped inside that blow and lifted an uppercut that smashed home under the man’s chin. His teeth clicked together, biting right through the tip of his tongue. He screamed in pain as blood spurted between his lips. The Kid finished him off with a left hook that stretched the gunman on the grass in front of the porch.

Swinging around, ready to continue the battle, The Kid saw that Mundy had pushed himself up on an elbow and was shaking his head groggily. That was as far as Elam’s segundo had gotten, and it didn’t look like he was going to be continuing the fight any time soon.

The Kid backed off, bending down for a second to pick up the black Stetson with the concho band that had gotten knocked off when the fight started. He kept one eye on Elam and one eye on Mundy. Elam was still just looking on. Obviously he had no interest in joining the battle himself. Paying somebody to do his fighting for him was more Court Elam’s style.

The Kid heard excited voices and glanced toward the house. He saw young faces peering from every window. Several of the smaller children had crowded up behind Theresa and ignored her efforts to shoo them back away from the door. They had been watching the fight from around her.

“Is that quite enough violence?” she asked as her eyes locked with those of The Kid.

He brushed the hat off and settled it on his head. Coolly, he said, “They started it.”

“No, you started it by sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong,” Elam said. “What business is it of yours whether Mrs. Shanley’s bill at the store is paid?”

“I’m making it my business, just like I’m making it my business to put a stop to all the hell you and your hired guns have been raising around here, Elam.”

“If you have proof of anything, produce it.” Elam sneered.

The Kid shook his head. “I don’t intend to take you to court … Court. I’m going to settle this myself.”

Mundy was starting to come around and struggled to his feet. The Kid rested a hand on the butt of his gun, but Mundy had had enough trouble for one day. He said thickly, “We better tend to Fred, Mr. Elam. He’s bleedin’ all over the place.”

The man who had bitten through his tongue was lying on the grass whimpering. Elam gave Mundy a curt nod. The gunman helped Fred to his feet and led him shakily toward the horses.

Elam looked back at Theresa. “You have me all wrong, Mrs. Shanley. I don’t want trouble between us. Far from it, in fact. I think we’d do much better working together.”

“That will never happen, Mr. Elam. Good day.”

He continued to look at her for a long moment before he finally shrugged. “If that’s the way you want it,” he murmured.

There was a note of dangerous finality in his voice that The Kid didn’t like.

Elam came down from the porch. As he passed The Kid, he said under his breath, “This isn’t over, Morgan.”

“Never thought it was,” The Kid said.

Mundy had gotten the injured man on one of the horses. He mounted up on the other and the two of them headed for Main Street. Elam followed in the buggy.

“Mr. Morgan,” Theresa said from the porch, having stepped out of the house.

The Kid turned toward her. Glancing around, he spotted the receipt for the money he had paid at the store, and picked it up from the ground. “I imagine you’ll be wanting this.” He held it out to her.

“What I want is for everyone to leave me alone so I can raise these poor children to the best of my ability.” After a second, she took the receipt from him. “Thank you. It was a generous gesture.” Her eyes widened slightly as she noticed the amount. “Very generous. Are you sure you can afford this?”

“I’m sure,” he said.

“Well, I appreciate it, but you really should have ridden on.” She lowered her voice so the children in the house couldn’t hear. “You realize you’ve put a big target on your back, just like the marshal and Jephtha Dickinson did by defying Court Elam?”

“I know that. That was sort of my intention.”

“To get yourself murdered?”

“To get Elam worked up enough to make a mistake. When he left here, he looked like he was just about there.”

Theresa frowned. “I don’t understand. He’ll send his hired killers after you. You and your friend can’t fight a dozen men, Mr. Morgan.”

“Not just the two of us. There have to be some men in this town who can handle a gun.” The Kid’s voice hardened. “Men who should have gotten together and stood up to Elam a long time before now.”

“You’re talking about average citizens fighting professional gunmen,” Theresa argued. “Elam’s men might wipe out the whole town.”

The Kid shook his head. “They can’t do that. Elam needs folks to run all those businesses he finagled his way into. Without the people, Powder-horn isn’t worth anything to him.”

Theresa drew a deep breath. “Powderhorn’s not worth anything anyway. If Elam has his way, a year from now the town won’t even be here.”

The Kid’s forehead creased in confusion. “What are you talking about? Of course the town will be here.”

“No, Mr. Morgan, you’re wrong. There’s a very good chance that Powderhorn is going to vanish from the face of the earth.”