After the Ashes(95)

“I’ll blow your head off if you even think of trying anything funny.” With his finger still on the trigger, Langston tossed Braddock the key to the handcuffs. It landed with a soft puff of dust near his bound feet. Using both hands, Langston quickly reaimed the rifle.

Braddock stared at the key. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Unlock yourself.”

“My hands are behind my back.”

“Then I guess you’re going to rot out here.”

Braddock tried to melt Langston’s determination with a serious glare, but the man was smarter and tougher than Braddock suspected. Finally he had no choice but to scoot around in the dirt and start the tedious process of freeing himself like a sideshow magician. His hands were already numb, making him drop the key more times than he could count. The image of strangling Langston urged him to paw through the dust until his fingers found metal. He steered his thoughts away from Lorelei. Fear for her made the intricate task impossible.

After what seemed like an hour, Braddock heard the lock click open. He flexed his fists and rubbed his arms. His circulation returned in needle laced waves.

“That’s enough. Unlock your ankles and get on the horse. Now.”

Braddock leaned forward. Shards of pain shot through his arms but he barely noticed. Numbing instinct took over. His muscles bunched, ready to spring at Langston.

Before the hinge on the ankle shackles had time to fall open, Braddock pulled his legs under him and pushed off with his feet. His shoulder hit Langston in the knees. The rifle fired as Langston fell backward. Braddock didn’t stop to consider if he had been hit by the stray shot. He tightened his grip on Langston’s waist with no intention of letting go.

Langston squirmed, his arm outstretched for the fallen rifle. Braddock pinned Langston with his weight while he curled a fist in Langston’s leather vest and yanked him away from the weapon. The pistols strapped to Langston’s waist dug into Braddock’s thighs, reminding him of their presence. As if Langston read his mind, he flopped and bucked for his life, forcing Braddock to hold on to him with both hands.

A large rock embedded in the sand a little to the right of Langston’s head caught Braddock’s attention. With a strength he didn’t even know he possessed, Braddock crawled on his knees, dragging a writhing Langston across the dirt. Braddock positioned his old schoolmate’s head over the rock. One hard knock would leave him unconscious; two or three would kill him.

When Langston realized Braddock intended to crush his skull, he fought with renewed strength. He wedged the base of his palm under Braddock’s chin and pushed hard enough to force Braddock to loosen his grip or have his neck snapped. Langston flopped away, but Braddock yanked him back before he could crawl to the fallen rifle. Braddock flipped him over and punched him as hard as he could in the nose.

Langston went limp, making dragging him back to the rock a much simpler task.

“What are you doing?” called Corey from someplace faraway. “Get the gun.”

With his fists securely wrapped in Langston’s vest, Braddock pulled Langston’s upper body off the ground. The man’s head fell back weakly. With no resistance to meet the rock, Langston would be harder to kill, but Braddock would make do.

“Stop it, you crazy son of a bitch. You’re going to kill him,” cried Corey.

“Shut up.” Braddock couldn’t think with all this screaming.

Apparently roused by the yelling, Langston wrapped a hand around the back of Braddock’s neck.

Braddock easily disengaged his grip. “Sorry, Langston, but you’re going to have to die. Since you won’t—”

“You’re not a killer.” Braddock paused. But he was a killer. Ever since the war he was a killer.

He repositioned Langston, ready to slam his head against the rock, when the sound of galloping horses interrupted his momentum. Then he heard his name echoing in his mind. He knew his imagination tried to trick him because the voice belonged to Lorelei.

“Lori,” yelled Corey. “Over here!”

Braddock froze, fearing that if he moved the dream would fade. In a cloud of dust, Lorelei barreled into the clearing, closely followed by Jay. Braddock watched her slide off her horse, then run to his side. She dropped to her knees and gently touched his shoulder. She glanced down at Langston, then back up to him.

“Let go of him,” she said softly.

He glanced at Langston, whose face was swollen. Blood flowed steadily from the man’s nose, soaking his shirt and dripping across Braddock’s fists. Gently, as if he hadn’t been the one about to bash Langston’s head, Braddock laid him down so his head was cradled in the soft sand.