Red Star Sheriff Read online

  In turn, the bank workers tied up in the corner looked to one another and then Kern with a nervous trepidation, kerchiefs in their mouths stifling any words. Maybe, Kern reflected, they were just waiting for the right person to put his head on a pike. He couldn’t say he could blame them for the sentiment. After all, the day was still young and Wilson was a real hellcracker. Not a woman who went down as easy as the local law enforcers. Which was one of the reasons he let her go to begin with, if he was being honest with himself. A frown crossed his face. Beginnin’ ta wish ah never heard o’that Sam Berricks feller…

  “Well, ya heard the boy. Git yer asses in gear so’s we ken show young Ms. Wilson a good ole time. If’n she’s in the saloon, we’ll have a real good chance o’trappin her up in there. Only two ways out, so yer out back when we git there, got it?”

  They all nodded and headed out. Kern followed, his hand never leaving the butt of his sidearm, a tense dread clawing up his spine.

  AIDELE JUMPED THROUGH an open window around the back of the saloon and stood in the middle of a room where two men hunkered down at a tiny table in the corner playing a hand of cards. They looked at her, their expressions ones of terror. One of the white-haired old men swallowed hard as he spoke.

  “Miss, I’d just as soon not be involved in this, if’n you don’ mind.”

  She tugged on the brim of her Grey Lance hat, “You gents don’ mind me. Jus’ passin’ through.”

  Aidele exited the room and was met with hollering from all across the saloon. She frowned as she slowed to a walk, Irons held before her and gaze to the floor.

  How many did Ah take down? …Thirteen. No. Fifteen. Shit. She pondered, counting down the bodies lain to waste in her head. Half down. Fifteen to go. Damn. An’ they all know ah’m here now. She hurried down the hall and darted into a room that was at the front of the saloon’s second floor. At the window, she knelt down.

  In the open street below, a dozen men were taking cover, surrounding the saloon. Where are the others? Where the hell is Kern? They had to be around back. Kern had her cornered. Not how she imagined this day going. An’ once again yer dumbass gits stuck in a bind! Then, there he was, strolling out into the clearing just across the street as if this were just an ice-cream social.

  “Ms. Wilson!” he called out and came to a stop between two of his men, hands resting on his revolvers. “Ah assume that’s you causin’ all this ruckus? Don’t gotta be this way, y’know. Why dontchu come on out’n we discuss this civilly?”

  She squinted, her brows knitting deeply. Her lips drew taut and she lifted her Iron. The shot blasted through an electric pole, taking his hat off. Lucky fuck…

  “Ah’m guessin’ you ain’t in the talkin’ mood!” he caustically shouted recovering from his hasty duck, then looked to his men still remaining. “Well? Whatchu waitin’ fer? Git on up in there!”

  His henchmen hesitantly looked at him and reluctantly pushed towards the saloon. Aidele smiled, dialed back her Iron for a clean shot, and felled a man with one discharge. She didn’t get another as a volley of fire rang the window and she was forced out of the room to seek better cover.

  Saloon patrons were running every which way as she reentered the corridor. There was a poker room acting as a connecting juncture to the upstairs rooms and the balcony overlook of the tavern itself. Entering in a crouch, Aidele made her way over to the opposite doorway overlooking the downstairs tavern. Eleven angry outlaws rushed in flipping over tables to seek cover behind them, the bar, and support pillars. There was no way she was going to be able to put them down from her position. Especially Kern, who was cowering behind one of those pillars. Maybe ah ken git a shot at him from the other side of the overlook… No good. They’re headin’ ta the stairs. So, eleven in here. The remaining three must be out back. ‘Less Merus and that one swift-footed garnet done headed fer the hills.

  Patrons rushed out behind the gang as five men split off and ran under the balcony. This left six men in the saloon foyer. There was almost a sigh of relief out of her. Almost. With six in the foyer, eight were still in play out of sight. Think, woman, think! How do we handle this?

  “Wilson!” Kern shouted. “Why ya hidin’ now? Thought ya had unfinished business wit’ me?”

  Don’ worry, cocksucker. Ah ain’ escapin’. It’s you’n me, buttercup. An’ at least one o’us is leavin’ in a body bag. She let a dark smile creep across her face. First, ah gotta dance with yer little buddies.

  “Maybe she just runt off. Out the back,” a man at the end of the bar muttered.

  “Nah. She ain’ runnin’. Eddgis, Potts got da rear wit’ some crew, ‘sides. Stairwell’s covered, too. Even if’n she wanted ta run, she ain’ goin’ nowhere.” Kern chuckled.

  There was creaking coming from behind her and Aidele took in a deep breath. They were doing a room by room search for her. Every skill she’d learned, every scenario she’d prepared for, was about to be put to the test. Keeping out of sight, she ducked behind a sofa and waited. There were four ways into the poker room.

  One out to the balcony where there was the twin stairwell leading to the tavern floor. And she knew no one was coming up there. After all, all six men were waiting for her to be stupid enough to come down guns blazing.

  Another exit was to a hallway just behind where she crouched. The other two formed an intersection at the poker hall where she waited.

  Kern’s men would be coming from all three directions, she was sure of it and could hear a few now. The men below would be waiting to see if she was flushed out. That satisfaction would just have to wait. There would be a matter of seconds to react. Her best bet was a quick culling of their herd in one shot. And she had no idea how many would be clustered together hunting her down. The creak grew louder.

  A gun came into view from the corridor nearest her and one of Kern’s men walked quietly into the room. She removed her hand from her revolver grip and reached for the blade in one weathered boot. It was eight inches long and razor sharp. She leapt upward and ran that blade across his throat, blood spurting outward. He raised his hands dropping his piece.

  “Here she is!” a voice cried out behind her.

  In that same moment, she allowed the man in her grip to crumple to the floor, flipped the blade into her palm, and turned around to toss it at the man coming up the hallway. The blade caught him in his eye, tip first, before he could even pull his trigger. She drew both her Irons and fired at two men following him. Before any of them could hit the floor, she heard thumping and cocking of guns from the opposite end of the poker room and turned around, thumbing the disc on her left Iron to the halfway mark. She targeted the men across the foyer taking aim. Two shots zipped through her duster just missing her body as she returned fire. The expelled round hit the first man causing him to explode in an inferno. The man behind him caught fire and thrust himself against the wall screaming. Thumbing down the disc again, she fired, his head erupting into a volcano of gore. The hallway went up in flames as the corridor walls started collapsing in on themselves.

  Shit… so much fer doin’ as little damage as possible.

  Down in the tavern, Kern and his crew had their hands to their faces as wood was falling from the ceiling. One chandelier fell to the floor from its hitches. Timber collapsed onto one of the men trying to flee down a back stairwell and into the tavern. The building was still quaking from the blast.

  “Fuckballs! …Boys!” Kern called out. “What the hell was that? What’s goin’ on up there?”

  Aidele stepped backwards into the hallway behind her and reloaded her Irons. The dead man at her feet almost caused her to trip. Her blade was still sticking out of his eye. There was no need to retrieve it. She had five blades remaining in all. Two in her boots, three in her inner pockets. All ready to be thrown. But first thing was first. She popped a cylinder out of its chamber and shoved it into the ammo cup on her belt to be reused later. From another cup, she pulled a loaded cylinder and pushed it into the Iron’s waiting chamber.
The cylinder spun and she prepared to move on, listening for more yelling to get closer. The flames across the way were growing larger and fiercer. Way ta go, dipshit. Hope this place stays standing long enough, elsewise, Kern might just head outside and watch ya git burnt out.

  A door opened behind her and a pair of hands grabbed her and pulled her inside the room. She was tossed onto a bed, her Irons flying across the room in the motion. She got a good look at the man, a bloody wound to his shoulder and hip. Snarl plastered across his grizzled features.

  “Why, hello, Merus.”

  Aidele thrust out her foot nailing him in the groin before he could respond and, as he retched over, she dropped down to grab her guns. Merus recovered before she was able to reach them, and grabbed her by the throat, forcing her back to the bed. This time, she managed to get her feet under her, leapt up, and flipped over him. Twisting in the air, she grabbed his head and came down with all her force, pulling his head onto the spiked bedpost on the end. The spike drove straight through his eye and out the back of his head. She got back to her knees and looked at his twitching body hanging off the bedpost like a worm on a hook. She picked up her revolvers and headed out the back door to the room into another hallway running the back half of the saloon.

  Out in the fresh corridor, a man was heading towards her way. She ducked back inside and behind the door and waited until he was inside the room looking at the body.

  “Fuck! Where—!”

  Aidele came out from behind the door and shoved a blade deep into his neck. He dropped his gun and reached up to grab the blade and pull it out. However, she held on with a vicious grip.

  “Don’ worry, Ah’ll lead,” she said twisting the blade and eliciting a sort of gargled scream.

  She led him out of the room and down the hallway, keeping him from falling over, his eyes already glazing over. Here she found a secondary stairwell that she’d seen running for cover not even ten minutes before. It led down right behind the bar itself. Kern was screaming his head off. He was angry. And he was scared. The satisfaction of hearing it in his voice made her even more determined to see this through, come hell or highwater.

  Six left.

  “Boys!?” Kern called out, engulfing flames on the second story were filling the saloon with the sounds of crackling wood, falling timber, breaking glass, and the smell of acrid smoke. They weren’t making any effort to come up after her. Nor were they leaving despite the worried protests of his crew. “What’s going on? Is she dead?”

  “We need ta leave, Kern! The whole place is comin’ down!”

  “Not ‘til ah know the little wench is dead!”

  “She’ll be dead soon, Kern!”

  “Sorry, Kern. Yer boys had better things ta do up here and better afterlives ta do ‘em in!” Aidele called back with a smile. The man she had by the scruff of the neck and blade in throat was dying fast and wouldn’t be much use much longer. “Not yet, sugar. Almost though. Then ya ken rest the rest o’the wicked.”

  The saloon rattled and Kern screamed out. “So, what next, Wilson? Ya expect us ta jus’ let ya walk out the front door? Call it quits? Or we all gonna perish here together?”

  Aidele laughed, “Nope. Ah’m comin’ down, Kern! Now, we finish this!”

  “Well, come on then!”

  She leaned forward not letting her grip slip off the knife or the collar of the outlaw. They went careening down the stairs two at a time, flames starting to kiss this half of the building. Aidele almost fell twice. At the bottom, Kern and his remaining men opened fire. She let go of the man being pelted by gun fire, slid over the bar on her side firing as she went taking two shots to the shoulder and hip but downing one of the outlaws in the process.

  As she slid over the countertop, another of Kern’s cronies raced up to shoot down at her. She thumbed the disc on her left Iron and fired through the bar. The wood splintered into a spray of tiny shards and the explosion caused the outlaw there to be shot backwards out the front window onto the surrounding deck. The bullets stopped flying and Kern growled. His two remaining associates whimpered but didn’t make to break. A large part of the rear of the saloon collapsed blocking off the back exits.

  Three left… She leaned back against the inner bar wall, her body throbbing. There was a wound to her shoulder, thigh, and hip. If she didn’t finish Kern now, she wouldn’t even be hobbling out of town let alone leaving the saloon before it finally burned down. She felt her inner pocket and sighed. It didn’t feel damaged, the little splitter her father had created.

  Finish them, girl. Or ya don’ deserve ta walk outta here.

  “Hot damn, woman, you ken shoot,” Kern sighed. “Let’s finish this.”

  She heard Kern grunt as he and his last two men stood up from where they’d taken cover and walked to the center of the room. The clump of their boots stopped. The flames were a roaring symphony as she looked up, saw the ceiling was a raging inferno. Now, or never. She placed the edge of her muzzle flat against her forehead, pushing her Grey Lance up just a bit. The other, she re-holstered. She wasn’t going to need it now.

  “Whatchu say, Wilson? Ya got spirit, ah’ll give ya that,” he let out a loud sighing grunt and made his voice louder as the balusters started popping out of the rails they were holding up. “You should know, killin’ yer papi tweren’t nothin’ personal.”

  Aidele gave a humorless laugh and shook her head. “Was ta me.”

  She reached into her inner pocket and pulled out the splitter. She nodded and took in a deep breath. Ya ken do this…

  “All gotta go sometime. Muswell go with our boots on,” Kern spat out.

  She nodded, “Kent argue with that philosophy, ya bastard.”

  In a blur of motion, Aidele pushed herself to her feet, bringing the small round object to bear, and tossed it towards them. Nearly an instant later, she brought up her one pistol as Kern and his men took aim. Time froze. Flaming debris fell from the ceiling. Her enemies’ guns raised higher. Her arm still extended from tossing her instrument of final reckoning forward as the splitter divided in half approaching the outlaws. Each side became little spinning discs that sunk into each henchman’s chest on either side of Kern, and detonated with the force of a grenade. Their guts sprayed all over Kern forcing him to cover his face. And then Aidele fired four shots: one disarming him, one into his left shoulder, one into his belly, and one just above his heart.

  Kern went sprawling backwards to land hard on his back. A piece of burning paper landed on his face, singeing his mustache. And he howled staring up at the roiling ceiling as smoke filled his eyes.

  Aidele walked towards the former outlaw deliberately slow, mindless of the carnage taking place around her, and kicked his weapon out of reach. She held her Iron towards him, its surface glittering from the flames now seeking out the supporting walls of the foundation. Kern gave a nod and smiled with a cough. His grizzled and heavily mustached face were covered in blood and spittle, the fire that had sputtered on his whiskers winked out of existence.

  “Well, whatchu waitin’ fer? Ya gots what ya come fer,” he coughed a slight chuckle. “The full weight of mah crew’n ya mow through us like Hell’s fury. Color me impressed, Ms. Wilson.”

  A scowl crossed her face, “Don’ want yer accolades. Only thing ah want is ya lookin’ me in mah eyes as ah do ya in.”

  He lifted his head and fixed her with his gaze, “Ya ken do with me what ya will. But, they ain’ never gonna fergit about that—"

  A shot rang out and his face shattered under the force. She stood there a moment, the lifeblood of Kern—her father’s murderer, the savage who’d terrorized the Sutures—pouring out of that hole in his face like a dam had burst. She holstered her Iron, never taking her eyes off of his corpse.

  “Din’t say nothin’ ‘bout talkin’ neither.”

  Aidele turned and walked towards the saloon exit, the building interior giving in to the devouring fire. Every step was a symphony of pain. She tried not to let it show, but the hobble was
impossible to avoid as she walked through the doors and stopped. Onlookers were staring at her, the whole street filled with Kern’s victims, all trying to avoid the burning building as smoke billowed outward through windows upstairs. A dinging bell signaled that they had called for the water truck.

  Most of the people weren’t as fixated on the saloon, though. They just seemed shocked and full with the haze that it was really over. Some cheered as she continued onward. Some scowled and spoke quietly to one another that they loved that saloon and weren’t looking forward to the rebuilding.

  Aidele said nothing, only headed in the direction of her horse near the entrance of town. She was tired, hurt, and just done from her little war. Then there was still quite the ride ahead of her. And she’d probably have to stop and give herself a field wrap so she didn’t bleed out. But that was for when she was out of town.

  After.

  The sounds of the collapsing saloon followed her down the town streets. As did several of the locals who were far more interested in her than the loss of their favorite watering hole.

  IT’D BEEN QUIET for far too long. Then the cheers had begun. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but Lilybell decided to venture outside from where she had hidden in the general store’s storeroom. The gunfire had long since stopped and now was probably as good a time as ever to head back out into the alleyway.

  As she walked down the stairs, there was a din from a crowd of people rushing down the street. Her assailants from before were still lying where they fell, and she took care not to step on them or their drying blood as she headed out towards the alley entrance. As she exited, a group of women went rushing by.

  “What happened?”

  A woman in a bonnet by the name of Gretchen turned to her and took her shoulders. Lilybell thought about pulling away (after all, they weren’t exactly friends), but Gretchen’s excitement was so palpable she found herself entranced.