Chapter Fifty-Four

Zachary stood on the doc's porch, using a post for cover while fighting the urge to simply charge to where Clinton was hiding and kill the man with his bare hands. If Zachary were to do that, Clinton could very well kill Samantha before he got there.

The morning was eerily quiet. The town was lifeless. Folks knew that trouble was brewing. Women and children had been kept indoors and locked up tight. Men had refused to leave their families and go to work. The silence went beyond even that—the birds, the dogs, even the insects seemed to know that the safest place for them was anywhere but Hackney.

He glanced toward where the Sheriff lay only to realize the only thing still laying in the street was Arthur's lost hat. Zachary had thought the man was dead but clealry he'd been wrong. Where the hell had Arthur Thomas gone? Zachary didn't see any pools of blood where the body had been. He followed some scuff marks in the dirt and realized they led to a water trough nearby.

Zachary crouched and rushed toward that water trough. Arthur Thomas sat behind it, propped up against the scarred wood as he gingerly touched the bloody gouge across his scalp.

"You okay?" Zachary asked.

"Son of a bitch shot me in the goddamn head," Arhtur grumbled.

Zach quickly examined the wound. "Just a graze. You'll be fine."

Arthur chuckled. "I'm seeing four of you and just as soon as I figure out which one is the real one, I'll take a swing."

"Are you fit to fight?"

"Yeah." The sheriff pulled his gun. "Yeah, I'm fit. And I got plenty of bullets so I can hit all the multiple targets I'm seeing just now."

"Good. You stay here and cover the street. Tim's on the roof above you."

"And what about you? We don't even know how many men they have..."

"Clinton has four men working with him! There's five total!" Caroline's voice suddenly cried out from across the street. The sound of flesh hitting flesh sounded followed by a cry of pain.

"Stop hitting her, you big jackass!" Samantha's angry voice rang out. Another sound of flesh hitting flesh sounded, followed by silence.

Zachary barely contained his roar of fury.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Five of them. Three of us. We can do this, Zachary."

"I have you outnumbered, Zachary Marston!" Clinton called out. "I'm leaving this town with my Samantha."

"You're leaving this town in a pine fucking box, you son of a bitch!" Zachary called back.

"I have five on my team...."

Clinton's voice was cut off by the sound of a gunshot on the roof where Zachary had sent Tim. Zach's heart ceased to beat for a full second before a body toppled over the roof and fell with a resounding thud on the dirt nearby. The man was large framed and bearded—defnitely not Timothy.

"Make that four!" Tim called out.

Zachary remained crouched and moved back the post on the doctors' porch. "I've been killing your men for a long time, Clinton. It ain't gonna bother me a bit to kill the last four of you!"

"Zachary Marston?"

Zachary's attention was pulled down the street when a tall mustached man walked out of cover and began to stride down the street.

"Tex!" Clinton's voice was full of desperation—and it made Zachary's heart smile. "Get back in cover! What the hell are you doing?"

The man, apparently named Tex, just shook his head as he came to a stop about fifteen feet from Zachary's position. "You've killed a lot of my friends, Zachary Marston, and yesterday your bitch killed the last two best friends I had."

"Pick better friends," Zachary stated bluntly as he slung his rifle over his back and checked both his revolvers to ensure they were loaded and ready.

"I tried to get Clinton to let this go. I knew that if we faced you, it would be the end of us. But he wouldn't hear of it. It seems he got us all killed when we murdered your family all those years ago. At least I got to fuck your mama one good time."

Zachary swallowed his temper. His rage and anger were what Tex wanted. Zachary knew damn well the man was baiting him and attempting to get inside his head.

Putting his trust in Timothy and the sheriff to keep him covered from taking any shots from the other three hidden men, Zachary walked out of cover and stepped into the street to face Tex.

The man's eyes were sad as he stood there and stared Zachary down. "I knew you'd face me like a man. You always have been a brave one. Not like that fucking coward I've been riding with my whole life. You hear that, Clinton? I said you're a fucking coward. Sending all of us to fight your goddamn battles and get ourselves killed when all it would have taken was you meeting Zachary in the street like this to save us all."

Zachary frowned. It was possible that this was a trap. Some kind of show to distract him or get him in the open but he didn't think so. He'd heard the desperation in Clinton's voice when Tex had stepped out, and he could hear the sadness and hate in Tex's voice now. It's seemed Clinton was losing his men left and right.

"I'm not much for monologues, Tex." Zachary lowered his hand, letting his palm hover over the worn handle of his revolver. "Let's just get to killing each other."

Zachary didn't focus on Tex's hand. He focused on his face. That's where the tell would be. The sign, the givaway, that Tex was about tow draw. And there it was. A twitch of his mouth and a narrowing of his brow, forming a crease.

Zachary had drawn before the the other man fully cleared leahter and sent a bullet through his heart, dropping him instantly.

In that moment, the street exploded.

***

Samantha heard the gunshot and panic welled inside her. She made a leap for freedom but Clinton grabbed her arm roughly and slammed her against the post beside them. The breath rushed from her lungs and more gunshots filled the air.

"Kill him!" Clinton bellowed and Samantha felt relief nearly make her fall to her knees. Clinton was taller and could see over the sign they were behind. Zachary must be alive. "Go Edgar! You and Clyde have to finish him!"

Edgar tossed Caroline to the ground, the woman was far too addled from several hits to the head to be able to pose a threat or get away. Edgar disappeared onto the street as shots continued to roar, deafening in the quiet morning.

And then just as suddenly as the shots began—they ended. Complete silence stretched on and tortured Samantha worse than the gunshots.

Clinton cursed under his breath, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back into his chest. She felt his gun press tight to her temple as he positioned himself behind her. "Fight and I'll kill you," he whispered in ear. "Do as I say, and we'll leave this town together."

Samantha wanted to tell him to shove his offer five feet up his backside and choke on it, but she chose silence. Her compliance would get him out on that street and once Clinton was on that street his time left to breathe would finally come to an end.

His arm was wrapped tight around her chest, his free hand pressed tight against her wounded shoulder, causing her vision to blur a bit with pain. Samantha refused to cry out or let him know the pain he was causing. She simply took deep breaths through her nose and focused her gaze on Zachary the moment he came into view.

Her husband's eyes locked on hers and the anger she saw there caused her own knees to shake—and she knew that Clinton was feeling the same. She could feel him trembling against her as he held that gun to her temple. She also knew that Clinton was being careful about his movements. He was hiding himself behind her and keeping their backs to the boardwalk behind them. Which meant that he knew any bullets coming at him would come from the direction he had her facing.

"You'll be wanting to pull that gun away from my wife's head now, Clinton." Zachary's voice was ice and Clinton quickly stopped walking.

"I don't believe I do want that," he countered, his voice trembling nearly as badly as his legs. "You're no longer in a position to give me orders."

Zachary's eyes never left hers. "All these years, Clinton. Why don't you stop hiding behind a woman and face me like a man for once?"

"You're an arrogant bastard," Clinton snapped, his hand tightening on her shoulder and causing the pain to intensify. Samantha could no longer hold back her cry of pain as stars swam in her vision.

Even through her hazy eyes, Samantha saw Zachary reach for his revolver. Clinton shoved his gun harder against her temple causing her to wince. "Don't even think about it, Zachary."

Her husband stilled. She saw the fear breaking through his anger. Clinton chuckled. "Now, let me tell you how this is going to be. You're going to tell your men to stand down and toss out their weapons. Then you're going to toss down all of ours. And I'm going to hop on that horse there with Samantha and we're going to leave town. If you're dumb enough to try to chase us, you'll be responsible for her death."

A tense standoff followed Clinton's orders. Samantha knew she couldn't leave her life in Zachary's hands—that wasn't fair to him. She wouldn't be a helpless woman who made her husband put himself in harms way simply to save her life. Zachary was a gunslinger, a warrior in his own right, and he didn't deserve to feel powerless or helpless. Not after everything he had been through.

"Don't listen to him, Zach," she managed to gasp, though the pain Clinton was inflicting on her wounded shoulder. "He won't kill me."

She let her hand drop as Zachary watched her.

"Don't' listen to her, Zachary," Clinton leaned up and bit at her neck causing a pain-filled curse to fly from her lips.

Zachary tensed, that fear in his eyes growing. He glanced up toward the roof and Samantha knew he was about to tell Tim to toss down his gun. She gave a little shake of her head and his eyes narrowed. "Zachary, after you kill this bastard, I have something really important to tell you," she stated as she raised her foot carefully, doing her best to keep her balance steady so Clinton wouldn't notice.

"You can't tell him anything if I blow his or your brains out all over this street," Clinton warned.

Samantha simply smiled through her own pain, knowing that Clinton couldn't see her. Her hands closed around the hilt of the knife in her boot. "Zachary?"

Her husband was watching her carefully but working hard to give nothing away to Clinton. "Yeah?"

"Make it painful."

She pulled the knife out and in one fluid motion, she drove the knife deep in Clinton's thigh, while yanking herself hard out of his loosened grasp, screaming in pain as her shoulder protested

Clinton bellowed and Samantha dove forward and went belly down in the dirt to give Zachary a clear shooting lane. And her husband didn't disappoint. Faster than she could blink his revolver slid from the holster like silk and he unloaded it into Clinton Matthews.

Samantha felt herself hauled to her feet and she threw hereslf into Zachary's chest, clinging to him as hot tears stung her eyes and he buried his face in her red curls. "Goddammit, woman, you're amazing."

Samantha wiped her face dry on his shirt before pulling away. She turned in his arms, Zachary clearly wasn't going to be letting her go any time soon and she was in no hurry to make him, and looked at Clinton lying in the dirt.

Blood was pooling around his body and pouring from his chest with every weak beat of his heart. He was mumbling as he lay there, blood spraying from his mouth when he coughed. Samantha hated violence and death but she felt the smallest sense of satisfaction at seeing the suffering he was in. Clinton had caused so much pain to so many people—it was good to see him hurting.

She realized that Arthur Thomas was walking up to Clinton and was relieved to discover that the man wasn't dead and was okay enough to walk around. He had an unreadable expression on his face as he walked to Clinton. Clinton's fingers desperately tried to grab his gun but the sheriff kicked it away.

"Do you even know who I am?" Arthur demanded, his voice barely more than a growl.

"N..no..." Clinton gasped, coughing on the blood gathering inside him.

Arthur pulled his gun and aimed it down at Clinton's face. "My name is Arthur Thomas. Three years ago you rode up on a farmhouse and found a woman and two kids alone. You raped my wife...my daughter...you killed my boy. You killed them all." Arthur's knuckles turned white as he gripped the revolver and Samantha felt her stomach roll. Clinton truly was the devil—the man was pure evil. "Ellen was only seven, Marcus was five. They were the sweetest, most innocent children in the world. And Annabelle..." He took a deep breath as his voice broke. "Annabelle was the love of my goddamn life. I lived and breathed for that woman."

Clinton coughed again. The man wasn't going to be living more than another minute or two before he bled out completely. "You should have... kept them... safe..."

The gunshot echoed off the surrounding buildings as Arthur squeezed the trigger and sent a bullet slamming into Clinton's face.

Samantha sank into Zachary's embrace as the man simply held her close. No one spoke for several long quiet moments. Finally, Arthur raised his head, swiped his arm across his tear dampened face, and walked over to them.

"Well, that's done," the man stated bluntly.

Zachary nodded. "Yep."

Timothy came around the doc's and out onto the street. Samantha pulled away from Zachary and rushed to him, throwing her good arm around him and hugging him tightly, feeling him hug her just as tightly in return. "Thank you for keeping him safe," she whispered.

Tim smiled against her hair. "Thank you for keeping us all safe. You saved my wifes' life, Sam. Nothing I ever did could pay you back for that."

Samantha recognized Zachary's deep growl just before the man grabbed her and pulled her back into his arms. "I wasn't done holding you yet."

Timothy shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Glad you didn't die, Zach."

Zachary nodded. "Glad you didn't die, Tim."

Samantha gasped. "Caroline! She's over there and she's hurt...."

"I'll take care of her, ma'am," Sheriff Thomas assured her. "You get on in and tend to that shoulder."

Samantha could feel blood running down her back and knew that the stitches had been ripped. She looked at Zachary. "Is the doc okay?"

He nodded. "Just a sore head."

"I'm gonna go to Eleanor," Timothy stated before disappearing into the house.

Arthur pointed toward the launders' porch. "I'll tend to Caroline and then I'll get the street cleaned up. The undertaker will be happy for the business."

Zachary bent down and lifted Samantha into his arms, cradling her against his chest. "And I'm gonna go tend to my woman," he growled, causing a delicous little shiver to run down her despite the pain and stress of the last twenty-four hours.