The Loner: Seven Days to Die Read online

  “You know not to mention this to anybody but your boss,” he told her under his breath.

  “Sí, sí, I understand. For what you paid, you get to keep your big secret.”

  “Gracias,” he said as they reached the top of the stairs.

  One of the other soiled doves, accompanied by a client, was headed up to her room. They were about halfway up the stairs. The Kid touched Aliciana’s arm and stepped back, intending for them to give the couple room to pass.

  The Kid wasn’t paying much attention to the other whore or the man with her. The man was just a big hombre in a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat. But then he lifted his head to look up at the top of the stairs.

  The Kid felt a shock go through him as he recognized the face of Tom Haggarty, the bounty hunter who had shot him, pistol-whipped him, and dragged him to Hell Gate Prison.

  That wasn’t the worst of it. With widening eyes, Haggarty recognized him, too, and swept the long coat back to claw at the butt of the holstered Colt on his hip.

  Chapter 33

  The Kid could have outdrawn Haggarty, but Aliciana was right beside him and the other soiled dove was on the stairs next to the bounty hunter. There was too great a chance one of the women might get hit if shots were traded.

  Instead of going for his gun, The Kid launched himself down the stairs. Pushing off with his foot, he leaped halfway to the spot where Haggarty stood, flew through the air, and tackled the man. With a yell, Haggarty went over backwards as The Kid hit him from above.

  The two of them tumbled wildly out of control down the stairs while the startled whores began to scream.

  When they came to a stop at the bottom of the staircase, The Kid was on the bottom and Haggarty was on top. Haggarty’s hat had come off during the fall. His thick black hair hung down over his forehead.

  Heaving his body from the floor, The Kid shot his right fist up and into Haggarty’s jaw, throwing Haggarty to the side. Momentarily stunned, he rolled across the rug.

  The Kid scrambled up, trying to seize the advantage, but Haggarty recovered quickly and made it to his knees. The Kid swung another punch, but Haggarty grabbed his arm and hauled him up and over. The Kid came down hard on his back and found himself lying in the doorway between the foyer and the parlor.

  Dakota Pete was sitting in the parlor with the girl he had taken upstairs earlier in the evening. He bolted up from the divan and his eyes widened in surprise as he looked at The Kid lying there on the rug in front of him.

  “What the hell?” he rumbled.

  The Kid didn’t have time to explain. Haggarty was up again. One of the bounty hunter’s boots started toward The Kid’s head in a vicious kick.

  The Kid jerked his head aside just in time and grabbed Haggarty’s leg, shoving upward on it, trying to upset the man. Haggarty fell backwards hopping on one foot but managed to stay upright as he stumbled against the foyer wall, hitting it so hard a framed picture crashed to the floor.

  The Kid surged up and darted across the foyer. He hammered two fast punches into Haggarty’s midsection. Haggarty swung a roundhouse left. The Kid twisted so the blow didn’t take his head off, but Haggarty’s fist landed on his shoulder and knocked him back. The Kid staggered into the parlor, tripping on a rug. He started to fall again.

  Dakota Pete was there to catch him. Pete’s hands went under The Kid’s arms and held him up. “Kid, what the hell’s goin’ on here? Who’s that varmint?”

  Haggarty had recovered enough to reach for his gun again.

  The Kid didn’t want to kill the man over a case of mistaken identity, but he wasn’t going to stand there and let Haggarty shoot him. The Kid’s gun flickered out as he still leaned against Dakota Pete. He cleared leather well ahead of Haggarty, and flame spouted from the Colt’s muzzle as The Kid fired from the hip.

  Haggarty’s right arm jerked as the bullet burned across it and thudded into the wall. He howled in pain as his fingers opened involuntarily and he dropped his gun.

  It was one hell of a shot, The Kid knew, and probably as much luck as anything else. He had been trying to drill Haggarty’s arm, but creasing it like that was almost as good.

  He pulled away from Pete and extended his arm, leveling the gun at Haggarty. “Don’t move,” he told the bounty hunter.

  Haggarty didn’t listen. He grabbed a small, round, spindle-legged table sitting in the foyer and slung it as hard as he could at The Kid.

  Haggarty followed the table with a charge as The Kid ducked away from the flying table. He heard a thud and a grunt of pain as the table struck Pete instead.

  The next instant, Haggarty barreled into him. The Kid went over backward. Haggarty landed on top of him, and the brawny bounty hunter’s weight drove the breath from The Kid’s lungs, leaving him gasping for air.

  Haggarty grabbed the wrist of The Kid’s gun hand and slammed it down against the floor. The Colt slipped out of his fingers and went spinning away.

  The Kid jabbed a punch at Haggarty’s face with his other hand. His fist caught Haggarty just above the right eye and opened up a cut. Blood welled from it and dripped on The Kid.

  The injury didn’t slow Haggarty down. He dug a knee into The Kid’s belly and hammered a punch to his jaw. Skyrockets burst behind The Kid’s eyes. For a second, it was all he could do to hang on to consciousness.

  Suddenly, Haggarty’s weight was gone. No longer pinned to the floor, The Kid rolled onto his side and dragged air into his lungs. The blackness that had threatened to envelop him began to recede.

  When he looked up, he saw Haggarty and Dakota Pete swaying and stumbling around the parlor as they wrestled and pummeled each other. They were roughly the same size, and The Kid was reminded of the epic battle between Pete and the blacksmith that morning.

  Pete had lost that battle, but he appeared to be winning the one with Haggarty. Slugging furiously, Pete drove the man back.

  Then Haggarty caught a break when Pete slipped a little and dropped his guard. The opening lasted only a second, but it was long enough for Haggarty to shoot a piledriver punch through it.

  The bounty hunter’s fist landed with devastating force. For a second, Dakota Pete’s feet left the floor. He landed on a table, splintering it underneath him.

  The Kid tried to get up, but his muscles wouldn’t work yet after he’d almost passed out. Haggarty wheeled toward him, and it was obvious from the expression on the bounty hunter’s blood-streaked face that he intended to kick and stomp The Kid into submission.

  With a huge crash of shattering glass, something broke over the back of Haggarty’s head. Haggarty grunted, stumbled forward a step, and then fell on his face. Judging from the way he sprawled, he was out cold.

  Rosarita stood behind the spot where he had been. She clutched what was left of a big glass bowl in her hands.

  “I was just trying to distract him,” she said. “I didn’t think it would knock him out.”

  The Kid sat up. “He must have…a soft spot on the back of his head…like some men have a glass jaw.”

  Dakota Pete pushed himself into a sitting position and shook his head like a bull buffalo. He asked thickly, “Wha…what in blazes happened?”

  “Haggarty knocked both of us down and nearly out,” The Kid said. “And then Rosarita knocked him out.”

  Pete’s eyes widened in amazement. “She did?”

  “I’m as surprised as you are,” Rosarita said dryly. “Don’t you think you should do something about him before he comes to?”

  “Yeah,” The Kid said. He made it to his feet and went over to Haggarty. “Do you have any rope, and something we can use to gag him?”

  Rosarita called over her shoulder, “Brady! Fetch some rope and a couple of rags. Make it fast.”

  Pete struggled upright. “Who is that varmint?” he asked. “How come you and him started in with the fisticuffs, Kid?”

  “His name is Haggarty. He’s a bounty hunter.”

  The Kid said that as if it explained everything, and to an
outlaw like Dakota Pete, it probably did. Pete would assume that Haggarty had recognized The Kid from some wanted poster and tried to capture him.

  The Kid didn’t want Haggarty spilling the truth and calling him Bledsoe. It was entirely possible that Pete and the other hired gunmen didn’t know that Matthew Harrison was really the escaped convict Ben Bledsoe, but The Kid didn’t want to take that chance. Better to get him tied up and gagged before he regained consciousness.

  They barely managed that. Brady hurried in with some rope and a pair of rags to use as a gag. The Kid told Pete and the bouncer to tie Haggarty’s hands and feet securely, while he worked on the gag. He wadded up one of the rags, shoved it into the bounty hunter’s mouth, and tied it in place with the other rag.

  Haggarty wouldn’t be able to do anything except make some noise, which he did as he began to stir. His eyelids fluttered open, and when he looked up and saw The Kid, angry croaking sounds—curses—came from him.

  By then, Pete and Brady had his arms and legs bound so tightly that he couldn’t even writhe around.

  “What’re we gonna do with him?” Brady asked.

  The Kid looked at Rosarita. “I hate to have to ask you—”

  “Then don’t,” she snapped. “I already saved your bacon by knocking him out. What else do you want?”

  “If you could see your way clear to stashing him here for a while, I’d be much obliged.”

  Rosarita frowned. “That’s what I was afraid you were going to say. For how long?”

  “Well, I don’t really know. A few hours? Maybe overnight?”

  Pete suggested, “It’d be easier just to cut his throat and dump him in the desert for the buzzards and the coyotes.”

  The noises Haggarty was making got even louder.

  The Kid shook his head. “We’re not going to do that,” he declared. “But I can’t have him running loose around town, either.”

  Rosarita sighed. “All right, there’s an empty room upstairs. If you can carry him up there, you can leave him in it for a while, I suppose. Will someone need to stand guard over him?”

  “That would be better,” The Kid said.

  “Brady can sit outside the door with a shotgun. Will that do it?”

  The Kid nodded. “Like I said, I’m much obliged.”

  Pete said, “All right, gimme a hand, Brady. I reckon between the two of us, we can wrestle him up the stairs.” He glanced at The Kid. “I still say it’d be easier—”

  The Kid shook his head again.

  Pete heaved a sigh and said, “All right, Brady, come on. Let’s get this varmint upstairs.”

  While they were wrestling Haggarty up the stairs, with plenty of accompanying grunts, groans, and curses, Rosarita came over to The Kid and said, “I heard you tell your friend that man is a bounty hunter. I assume that means you’re a wanted man.”

  The Kid didn’t confirm or deny that. He just said, “Did you really think I wasn’t?”

  “Does him showing up here have anything to do with…that other matter you were involved in tonight?”

  The Kid knew she was referring to the ruse that had allowed him to slip out of Gehenna undetected. He shook his head. “No, I can honestly say that I never expected to see Haggarty again.”

  “Is him showing up like this going to complicate…whatever it is you’re doing?”

  “It might. It’s one more thing to take into account, anyway.”

  “You need to be careful, Mr. Morgan. If you give Harrison the slightest provocation, he’ll have you killed…or kill you himself.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a second. I intend to stay alive, though.”

  “So did everyone else who’s crossed him since he came to Gehenna. By helping you the way I have tonight, not once but twice, I’ve backed your play. If anything happens to you, and if Harrison finds out what I’ve done…”

  Her voice trailed off, but she didn’t have to finish the sentence. They both knew what she meant. If that happened, she would be left twisting in the wind, and no doubt Bledsoe would have his revenge.

  She reached out and squeezed The Kid’s arm for a second. “Just don’t get yourself killed,” she said huskily.

  “I’ll do my best,” The Kid promised.

  The problem that had brought him hurrying back to the settlement was still as urgent as ever. He had to find out what had happened to Carl Drake and Jillian Fletcher.

  The Kid retrieved his gun and holstered it as Pete came clumping back down the stairs.

  “We got the fella locked up in that empty room,” Pete reported. “Brady’s parked hisself right outside the door with a Greener.”

  The Kid nodded. “Good.” He looked around at the wrecked furniture in the parlor and told Rosarita, “I’m sorry about all the damage.”

  “It’s all right,” she said. “If there’s anything I know about, it’s how to collect what a man owes me. Mister…Haggarty, was that it?…will be paying me back.”

  As The Kid and Pete left the house, the big man said, “Whew! What a night, eh, Kid?”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  Pete’s elbow nudged into The Kid’s side. “You was in that room with that Aliciana gal for a long time. Reckon you must’ve turned her ever’ which way but loose. Or was it the other way around? Haw, haw!”

  “I got my money’s worth,” The Kid said honestly.

  “Yeah, me, too. That little gal o’ mine was a real spitfire, if you know what I mean. I don’t know which one of us got wore out first. It was just about a dead heat.”

  The Kid didn’t pay much attention as Pete prattled on about his amorous achievements. He was trying to figure out what had happened to Drake and Jillian, and his mind kept coming back to the fact that J.P. Malone and Clyde Woods had been gone most of the day.

  Maybe Bledsoe, with the natural caution of a wanted man, had sent them out to scour the countryside around Gehenna, just to make sure no one else had shown up along with the stranger known as Kid Morgan. Most people wouldn’t think to do something like that, but clearly Bledsoe wasn’t a run-of-the-mill owlhoot. He was smarter and more careful than that.

  The worry grew as The Kid approached Bledsoe’s saloon headquarters. The hour was late, but even so, the place was surprisingly quiet as he and Pete went up the steps to the boardwalk. The player piano had fallen silent, and there wasn’t the usual hubbub from the customers.

  As he pushed through the batwings with Pete close behind him, The Kid saw the customers were all gone. The big man wasn’t trying to block his escape route, but that’s what it amounted to.

  The place was empty except for five people. Bledsoe sat at his usual table, while Malone and Woods flanked it, standing on either side with their guns drawn.

  Two more people sat at the table.

  Carl Drake and Jillian Fletcher.

  “Come on in, Kid,” Bledsoe invited with a cold smile on his face. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

  Chapter 34

  “What’s goin’ on, boss?” Pete boomed from right behind The Kid. “Who’re those folks?”

  The Kid’s gaze darted from side to side around the room. The wheels of his brain turned over furiously. He couldn’t hope to outdraw Malone and Woods since their guns were already drawn and pointed at Drake and Jillian. If he tried anything, they could blast the two prisoners at point-blank range.

  Drake’s face was bruised and bloody. They had beaten him…and worse. He cradled his left arm and hand against his body. Several fingers were bent at unnatural angles, showing that they had been broken. The tips of the other fingers were crimson ruins where the nails had been yanked out.

  They had tortured Drake, and judging by the smug smile on Bledsoe’s face, Drake had spilled his guts.

  The Kid glanced over his shoulder. Dakota Pete’s tall, broad-shouldered body filled the doorway. The Kid might have been able to take him by surprise and get past him, but that would mean abandoning Drake and Jillian to whatever fate Bledsoe had in mind
for them.

  He couldn’t do that.

  Instead, The Kid gave Bledsoe a cool, level look and asked, “What is it you want, Bledsoe?”

  “Who’s Bledsoe?” Pete asked before the boss outlaw could say anything.

  “He is,” The Kid replied with a nod toward the man sitting at the table. “Matthew Harrison isn’t his real name. He’s actually Bloody Ben Bledsoe, an outlaw who escaped from Hell Gate Prison in New Mexico Territory a couple months ago.”

  Bledsoe laughed. “You’re not telling anyone here anything they didn’t already know, Morgan, except for Dakota, of course. J.P. and Clyde weren’t aware of it until tonight, when we…convinced…Carl here to start talking, but it doesn’t really matter. And of course the lovely Miss Fletcher already knew. We remember each other from Hell Gate, don’t we, my dear?”

  Jillian didn’t say anything. She looked pale and frightened, but also defiant.

  “I’m sorry, Kid,” Drake rasped out as he hunched over his mutilated hand. “I held out…as long as I could…but I had to tell ’em…how you and I busted out together and came after him.”

  Pete shook his head and said, “I sure ain’t followin’ what’s goin’ on here.”

  “You don’t have to,” Bledsoe snapped. “Just don’t let Morgan get past you.”

  “Sure, boss. But he don’t look like he’s tryin’ to go anywhere.”

  “You sent Woods and Malone out to have a look around, didn’t you?” The Kid asked, putting into words the theory he’d been turning over in his mind a few minutes earlier, before everything had gone to hell. “You didn’t trust me?”

  “Why the hell should I?” Bledsoe demanded. “You show up out of the blue, kill my best gunman, and take his place. It sounded like something a damned U.S. marshal or some other lawman would do. I sent the boys out to make sure there wasn’t some posse waiting outside of town for you to give them a signal.” Bledsoe smirked. “Instead they found these two. That’s a pretty sorry posse, Morgan. Of course, as it turns out, you’re not a lawman. Just another outlaw.”