The Sapphire Gun (5 page)

As the ride wore on, Johnny became more and more aware that he was sitting on a good portion of his hopes and dreams for his retirement. His eyes twitched nervously at every sound. Considering the creaks and groans of the wagon, its wheels, and the horses pulling it, that was a whole lot of twitching.

Clint knew better than to try and keep watch on everything around him. This section of California seemed as vast as the rest of the country put together, and the knowledge that an entire ocean wasn't far away made things seem even bigger. Instead, Clint kept his senses open and his mind on track. Eclipse was smart enough to stick to a trail and skirt the occasional obstacle on his own.

“I think I see someone!” Johnny shouted.

Clint rolled his eyes. The first few times Johnny had made such claims, Clint had taken them seriously. After half a dozen false alarms caused by groundhogs or rabbits, the man driving the wagon had lost just a bit of his credibility.

“Where at, Johnny?” Clint asked, since it was the quickest way to shut him up.

“Over by them rocks. Just up ahead. You see 'em?”

Clint glanced in that direction and replied, “I see the rocks and not much else. You sure it's not just another rabbit?”

“It's not a rabbit!”

Squinting toward an outcropping of large boulders, Clint studied every stony curve and found nothing. “That's just shadows of clouds passing over them.”

Johnny made a fretting sound and then said, “Not those rocks! The other ones!”

“What the hell are you talking about, Johnny?” Clint asked as he turned in his saddle to look at the other man's panicked face.

A split second after Clint turned, something hissed through the air and nipped at Clint's ear. Clint's head snapped toward the rocks, and his hand darted up to touch the spot where it felt as if something had bit him. As he fingered the bloody nick on the side of his ear, Clint heard the echo of a rifle work its way through the air.

“Get down!” Clint shouted.

Johnny started to duck, but wasn't able to drop too far while also maintaining control of the horses. “Just let me get to my rifle,” he said.

“Turn the horses first!”

Another shot hissed toward Clint, but missed since Eclipse was now weaving in an erratic pattern. The sound of that shot was lost amid the thunder of Eclipse's hooves and the two men's shouting.

Bracing himself with both feet planted firmly against the boards, Johnny pulled hard on the reins to steer the horses to the right. The wagon shuddered and groaned around him, but managed to make the sharp turn without overturning. He did, however, lose a few of his things from the back.

Snatching the rifle from its holster on the side of his saddle, Clint aimed in the direction of the rocks and fired a shot. “Don't ride in a straight line,” he shouted to Johnny. “Keep turning, but don't fall into a pattern. That should make it hard enough for them to get a clean shot.”

“What about you? I can help you!”

“Just don't get shot,” Clint said. “That'll be good enough for me.” With that, he hunkered down over Eclipse's back and touched his heels to the stallion's sides. That was all the Darley Arabian needed to launch into a full gallop that sent a rolling thunder through the air.

Ignoring the rocks he'd studied before, Clint turned his sights to another set of rocks that was half the size. The first thing that caught his eye was a horse and rider standing idly by the rocks. As he drew closer, Clint picked out what he thought to be a figure laying on top of the highest rock.

Sighting along the top of his rifle, Clint squeezed off a round and knew he would've had to be blessed to hit anything at all. Even so, he figured he would buy himself at least another few seconds before the other rifle was fired at him.

He figured wrong.

Whoever was laying on top of the rocks wasn't the one who'd fired at him. A puff of smoke appeared in front of the figure on horseback as a round whipped a few feet to Clint's left. The only reason it hadn't hit was because Clint had pulled Eclipse to the right as soon as he'd taken that last shot.

Rather than take his hand from the reins, Clint held the rifle out and swung it by the lever to put the next round into the chamber. He pulled hard on the reins again, steering Eclipse to the left at a less severe angle than his previous turn. The man on horseback ahead of him fired again, but didn't come close enough for Clint to hear the bullet pass by.

Just to be certain, Clint shifted his aim toward the top of the rocks and fired. He may have been jostling too hard to expect a lot of accuracy, but he was now close enough to the rocks to hit them in the correct general area.

The ricochet could be heard, followed by a high-pitched shriek. After that, the figure slid off the back of the rocks and out of Clint's sight.

Since that had worked so well, Clint aimed for another section of rocks and squeezed his trigger. There was another ricochet, followed by the ratchet of Clint levering in another round. He fired again, hitting the same section and causing another piercing ricochet.

The horse that had been standing near the rocks reacted to the second near-miss more than the first and shifted just enough to throw off his rider's aim.

Ignoring the shot, which sailed way over his head, Clint dropped the rifle back into its harness on his saddle and drew his modified Colt. He fired one shot to keep the horse in front of him spooked, but held off on pulling his trigger again when he saw the other rider snap his reins and charge into the fray.

With the sun beating down so hard on him, Clint thought he was mistaken when he saw something glitter in the rider's hand. More than just light meeting metal, the sparkle seemed more like a reflection thrown by a mirror. He didn't take too much time to think it over, though. After all, he had plenty more to keep him busy at the moment.

The other horse bolted from the spot where it had been standing and took off at a ninety-degree angle from those rocks. Soon, Clint heard another set of hooves beating against the ground. When he took a quick look in that direction, he saw a smaller figure riding away in the opposite direction.

The first rider was obviously a man and he sat tall in the saddle. Once he turned and fired another shot at Clint, he made himself Clint's main target. Clint squeezed off a round, but missed when the man threw himself into an evasive turn similar to the ones Clint, himself, had been using.

Once he was pointed toward the wagon, however, the rider snapped his reins and kept racing in that direction. He fired a few halfhearted shots over his shoulder, but those were mainly to buy some distance between himself and Clint. His rounds came close, which was impressive since he was barely even looking at Clint before shooting at him.

Clint straightened his arm and took a moment to sight along his barrel. He had a clear shot. Unfortunately, it was a clear shot at the rider's back, and that just didn't set well with him. Cursing under his breath, Clint snapped the reins and brought Eclipse around to come in at another angle.

The rider fired once more at the wagon as he dug his heels into his horse's sides. Johnny had taken another sharp turn, but was still refusing to leave Clint too far behind. Extending his arm, the rider took careful aim and raced to put himself in pistol range.

Eclipse tore over the landscape like one of the many bullets that had been fired. He swooped around to the other rider's left and cut across so Clint could try and catch the man's attention.

Not only did Clint catch the rider's attention, but he almost caught a bullet as the man twisted in his saddle and fired in a flicker of motion.

It all happened in the blink of an eye, but froze in Clint's mind.

Clint could see the grin spreading across the man's dark, smooth features. He could see the thin mustache on Franco's upper lip and he could see the fancy gun in the Spaniard's hand. When that gun went off, it seemed more like photographer's flash powder.

When Clint moved, it felt as if his muscles were taking days to respond to his brain's commands. At the core of his being, Clint knew for certain that he wouldn't be able to duck away from that shot. Then, it seemed like the moment was dragging on so long because his mind knew that bright California sky would be the last thing he'd ever see.

Suddenly, Clint's vision was pulled away from the rider and he was nearly thrown from his saddle.

The echo of the gunshot rang in his ears, even though he didn't recall hearing the actual explosion.

Clint tried tightening his grip on the reins, but quickly realized his fingers were already clenched as tightly around the leather straps as they could manage. It took a moment, but he also realized that he hadn't even been hit by the shot that had just been fired.

When he blinked and tried to focus, Clint discovered why he could no longer see the other rider. Eclipse was facing away from the man and had yet to steady his pace. The straining muscles in Clint's arm told him that he was probably the one who'd pulled Eclipse in that direction just before the shot came. However it had happened, the stallion's response had saved Clint's life.

The Darley Arabian shook his head and bobbed it up and down, which soon began to make his steps more and more wobbly. As Eclipse kept shaking his head, blood sprayed through the air over him.

With the bullets still flying in the vicinity of the wagon, Clint did his best to steady Eclipse before the other man found the shot he'd been after.

Franco turned his back to Clint once more and headed toward the wagon. He could only see the back of the vehicle, which gave him nothing worth shooting. Even so, he was well within pistol range, so he kept his gun in hand and steered his horse to get a better angle.

He was hoping to get a look at the wagon's driver, and he got exactly what he'd wanted in a big way. Johnny raised up to look over the top of the wagon. In his hand was a Winchester rifle, which quickly swung around to aim at its target.

Johnny fired the moment Franco was in his sights. Without pausing to see what he'd hit, he chambered another round and fired again.

Hot lead blazed toward Franco from over the top of the slowly moving wagon. When he steered his horse out of the rifle's line of sight, he quickly found himself back in Clint's. The modified Colt barked and sent a round through Franco's flesh. It wasn't a mortal wound, but it hurt enough to make the Spaniard think twice about what he intended on doing.

Reacting out of pure self-preservation, Franco took quick aim at Clint and pulled his trigger. The nickel-plated gun bucked in his hand, and as soon as its round was delivered, Franco turned to aim at the wagon. Johnny had just poked his head up when he saw the pistol swing toward him. He just managed to drop back down again as the .44 barked at him.

Franco saw his opportunity when both men were reacting to those shots. Rather than wait around for Clint and Johnny to recover, Franco steered his horse away from both of them and got the animal moving at a full gallop.

Clint wasn't able to spot Franco right away. His arm moved to keep the modified Colt aiming at whatever he could see. As his eyes snapped back and forth for a hint of where the Spaniard had gone, his hand flinched in that direction as well.

Just as he'd spotted the dust kicked up by Franco's horse, Clint also realized the animals pulling the wagon were turning in his direction. That was more than likely due to the fact that Johnny was firing his rifle wildly from the other side of his seat.

Another shot came in response to the rifle, which Clint immediately recognized as coming from that fancy .44 carried by the man who'd attacked them. The next thing Clint heard was Johnny's voice hollering in pain.

“God damn!” Johnny shouted as he dropped back down into his seat. “I'm hit!”

Clint's first impulse was to ride around the front of the wagon so he could try to catch up to the other rider. The team hitched to the wagon was already spooked enough, so Clint brought Eclipse around to move toward the back of it instead.

As the wagon rolled on and Clint rode across its wake, he could hear the receding thunder of Franco's horse. It wasn't until Clint had ridden all the way around the wagon that he finally managed to catch sight of the horse itself.

This time, Clint wasn't so squeamish about taking a shot at the man's back. He had plenty of time to adjust his aim until he was certain he could drop Franco from his saddle. Before he could pull his trigger, however, another bullet hissed toward Clint from long range.

Clint's blood was racing so hard that he was hugging Eclipse's neck before another round could catch him in the face. But another round didn't come.

Another round wasn't even necessary.

Franco had managed to put a few trees between himself and Clint, which sullied Clint's aim just long enough for Franco to get to the rocks. After that, the Spaniard was gone.

Clint was examining where Eclipse had been shot. The bullet had clipped the Darley Arabian's ear in much the same way that one of Franco's earlier bullets had clipped Clint's ear. Johnny kept making jokes about Clint sharing his wounds with his horse.

The wagon was stopped near a river and not too far from the main trail. Now that he'd cleaned the blood from Eclipse's ear, Clint knelt down to see about cleaning himself up. Blood had formed a thick crust on his ear, making it looked like it had been chewed off rather than shot. Washing away some of that crust, Clint got down to the wound itself. He winced when he dripped some water on it, but at least his ear felt closer to the way he remembered it.

Resting with his back against a rock beside the river, Johnny shifted and winced in pain. His shirt had been stripped away, and his chest was wrapped up with several layers of bandages. Actually, the bandages were the shredded remains of one of the bags Johnny had packed and tossed into the back of the wagon. They hadn't been around him long, but the makeshift bandages were already soaked through with blood.