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After the Ashes(52)

By:Cheryl Howe


Corey moved away from Lorelei without Braddock having to tell him to do so.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” Braddock said, trying to draw the attention back to himself. “The name’s Braddock. Heard of me?”

Larry glanced his way, but unfortunately it didn’t seem to alter his aim. “Matter of fact, I have. I’ll have to make sure I kill you before I’m done.”

Lorelei shoved Corey farther away from her in a flurry of motion that raised dust. “But he’s the one you want, isn’t he?”

Corey stumbled. “Lori!”

Braddock’s gaze swung to Lorelei. What in the hell was she doing now?

“Go ahead, shoot him,” she cried. “He’s not my son. I can’t fool you.”

Larry kept his aim on Lorelei. “You never did, lady. I’m not going to shoot him. Not until we settle something between us. We understand each other, don’t we, Corey?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You can tell me, or you can talk to Mulcahy, and he’s real mad. He’d love nothing more than to strip the skin off your back.”

“I don’t know anything, Larry. I swear.”

Buster propped himself up with the help of his left elbow. “Is that the little son of a bitch we’ve been looking for?”

“Yep,” said Larry.

“That’s not Corey Sullivan,” said Archie. “He’s not thirteen.”

“Neither is this one. Talk to me, Sullivan, and I’ll see you get out of here alive. That’s better than you deserve. If it weren’t for you, we’d all be drinking it up instead of crawling into holes to die.”

“You’re not going to die. You look healthy to me,” said Corey.

“Let’s just even up now, and I won’t take a potshot at your mother over here.” Somehow Larry found the strength to lift his gun to eye level, his aim clearly targeted at Lorelei.

Before Braddock could decide to take the risk and pull the trigger, a bullet whizzed by his right ear. He heard the explosion at the same time the shot knocked Larry back, forcing the rifle to slip from his grip.

“I couldn’t let you shoot a woman, Larry. Not after Lila. She was just a girl. You shouldn’t have treated her like that,” whined Archie. “Shouldn’t have done it.”

Braddock pivoted on the balls of his feet and shot Buster in the center of the chest as he fumbled for his pistol with his left hand. Obviously he was right handed and hadn’t learned to use his other hand. He never even cleared the gun from the holster.

Braddock turned back to Archie, not sure of the man’s state of mind, but the bartender had disappeared.

“Get his guns,” Braddock directed Corey, pointing his pistol at Buster.

He leaned over the bar to make sure Archie wasn’t reloading in order to pick them all off. Archie had slid to the floor, the shotgun beside him, and was sobbing into the hands that covered his face.

“Lorelei, see to him.”

Braddock knelt beside Larry, who lay flat on his back, gasping for breath. His hat had fallen, and his long silver hair slithered across the dirty floor like a dozen grass snakes.

“I was already dead,” he said through half-opened eyes. “Where’s Mulcahy?”

Larry grinned despite the film of blood over his yellow teeth. “Ask your son.”

“He says he doesn’t know.”

“You’re a dead man when you ride with that one. They’re going to get him.”

“Why didn’t you shoot him when you had the chance?”

“Greed dies hard, I guess.”

“Where’s Mulcahy?” Braddock tried again.

Larry coughed. Braddock rolled him on his side to keep him from choking on his own blood.

Corey leaned over Braddock’s shoulder. “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, Larry. I told you I wasn’t signing up to kill people.”

Larry opened his eyes. “But you’re fine with gold, aren’t you lad—bloodstained or no.”

“I didn’t want anyone to get killed. I wouldn’t have signed up if I knew.”

“Well, do yourself a favor, O’Sullivan. Give it back afore it’s too late.” Larry’s slight brogue deepened as his voice grew more faint. “Wait. It is too late. I’ll be seeing you soon. Aye, lad.”

“Tell me what you know, Larry.” Braddock tried one more time.

“I need a drink,” mumbled the outlaw.

“I’ll get you one as soon as you tell me where Mulcahy is.”

“Get me a drink, you bastard. I’m dying,” he rasped.

Corey brought a glass of whiskey to Larry’s lips. “I’m sorry, Larry. I really am.”