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  Trammel and Ben tackled Hagen, knocking him back inside as the bottle crashed against the banister and spread fire like it was water.

  CHAPTER 34

  Trammel kicked the balcony doors closed as bullets began to shatter the panes of glass. Ben got to his feet and slid home the dead bolt on the room door.

  Hagen coughed as smoke from the burning balcony began to blow in through the ruined door.

  Trammel had been in fires before and knew the smoke would kill them before the flames ever could.

  The men stayed low as round after round pelted the balcony door, each shot knocking another large chunk of wood away. A few more volleys and there would not be anything left of the door.

  Hagen cried out as he tried to crawl toward his bed, but his right arm gave way and he collapsed on his side. “Under the bed,” he gasped through the thickening smoke.

  Trammel ran at a crouch to the bed and found a large chest with a handle beneath it. He pulled it out, undid the latches, and opened it. The case was full of ammunition and handguns.

  “They’re loaded,” Hagen gasped as he choked on the smoke.

  Trammel slid one toward him before drawing his Peacemaker, dumping the spent shells and reloading it with fresh bullets.

  Ben went to the case and began feeding fresh rounds into his Winchester. Trammel did the same with the Winchester he had found on the dead guard. Both of them took a handful of cartridges and dumped them in the pockets of their shirts.

  Trammel crawled over to Hagen as the gunfire began to calm down. “We can’t stay here. The smoke is getting too thick.”

  “They’re probably already in the hall, waiting for us to come out,” Hagen yelled back. “The only way out is over that balcony.”

  Another flaming whiskey bottle sailed through the open door and crashed into the middle of the room. Ben grabbed a blanket from Hagen’s bed and immediately began stomping out the flames just as another one exploded just inside the room.

  Trammel and Hagen grabbed the rest of the bedclothes and tried their best to stamp them out, but there was too much for the fire to feed on. Smoke quickly filled the room, making it impossible to see more than a foot in front of their faces. Their eyes were watering too much for them to see much of anything anyway.

  “Follow me,” Hagen said as he moved toward the balcony.

  Before Trammel could object, he felt Ben move past him toward daylight. Trammel had no choice but to follow, staying as low as he possibly could.

  Rifle fire erupted from the balcony as Trammel crawled outside. The morning wind was blowing the smoke into the room, giving them a clearer view outside. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and cleared his vision.

  He saw Ben firing down at Lonnie, who had taken cover behind a horse trough across the street. Hagen was firing at the ranch hands who were running toward the building. They had scattered some, but he had brought down a fair amount.

  Trammel stood and took aim at the approaching ranchers. Two more fell before Trammel got in on the action and took down a man at the back of the group. He levered in a new round just as a bullet struck him in the left shoulder, knocking him flat, but he managed to hold on to his rifle as he fell.

  The banister was completely aflame and the wood was beginning to crack. Trammel kicked the burning wood until it broke off and fell out onto the thoroughfare below. Ben took a knee as he began to reload.

  Trammel fought the pain in his left side as he inched toward the end of the balcony. He brought up his rifle from a seated position and aimed at where he had last seen Lonnie.

  Lonnie no longer under fire, stood up and lit the rag in another bottle of whiskey. He froze when he caught sight of Trammel aiming down at him.

  As he brought the bottle back to throw, Trammel shot him in the neck.

  Lonnie fell backward. The bottle broke on the ground, and flames soon consumed him.

  The smoke from inside the room had begun to billow out onto the balcony, and Trammel knew they had to get out of there fast. He kicked away the burning side banister until it, too, fell to the street.

  He knew a jump from two stories wasn’t enough to kill him, but it was more than enough to bust a leg. It was worth the risk.

  With the dead Celestial’s rifle in his left hand, Trammel slid over the side and held on to the last remnant of the railing still nailed to the balcony before allowing himself to drop.

  He had only dropped a couple of feet before he landed on the saddle of a tethered horse and gently fell to the ground. Bullets peppered around him as soon as he landed, but died away as rifle fire opened up above him. Two sets of hands pulled him into the alley between the jail and the hotel.

  He was glad to see it was Hawkeye and Dr. Moore.

  His deputy looked at Trammel’s left shoulder. “Boss, you’re hit.”

  Trammel pushed him away. “Keep firing. Where are they?”

  “On the other side of the hotel,” Moore told him. “They tried to get in through the front, but we stopped them. Whoever was shooting up there picked off several. I don’t know if they’ve gotten around the back.”

  “You two stay here,” Trammel ordered. “I’ll take a look.”

  He stifled a cough as he moved as quickly and quietly as he could down the alley. He stopped at the corner and peered around the side.

  Five of the men were on the ground outside, coughing heavily as Emily ministered to them. She looked up when she saw Trammel and said, “They’re out of it, Buck. Don’t shoot.”

  He walked over to the nearest one in the circle and shoved him with the toe of his boot. “How many left?”

  Two shots rang out from behind him. One caught him in the left side and knocked him flat on his stomach.

  “Guess you and your friends missed one, Sheriff,” came a voice from behind him.

  Trammel did not recognize the voice. He doubted he would recognize the man it belonged to either, not that it mattered.

  He reached for the Peacemaker under his arm and pulled it as he flipped over onto his back and fired.

  The bullet caught the man just below the rib cage. He stumbled backward for a few steps before he finally fell to the ground.

  The last thing Trammel saw before he blacked out was Emily’s concerned face looking down at him.

  CHAPTER 35

  Trammel sat up with a start. For a moment he thought it had all just been a dream. The burning hotel. The smoke. The gunshots. All of it just a rotten dream that disappeared the moment he woke.

  But the pain that quickly swept through his body reminded him that it had been all too real.

  He moaned as he slowly laid his head back on the pillow.

  “Thank God,” a familiar voice said. “You’re alive!”

  Trammel recognized that voice. “Adam? Is that you?”

  But he could hear Hagen somewhere in the near distance talking to others. He heard shouts of joy and excitement as they came closer to him.

  Emily was the first person he saw. She caressed his head with the back of her hand and kissed his forehead. “Thank God, Buck. The fever is gone. We thought we had lost you.” She hugged him tightly, which made every part of him ache again. “Thank God.”

  He felt a tug on his left side. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Sheriff,” Dr. Moore said. “It was touch and go there for a while, but you made it. You are quite a specimen of resilience.”

  Trammel weakly patted Emily’s hand. His mouth was so dry, he could barely get out the words. “What happened?”

  “You’ve been asleep for a week, you lazy fool,” Hagen told him. “We thought we’d lost you several times, especially after the fever started up.”

  Dr. Moore added, “I pulled four slugs out of your left side. One of them bit pretty deep. But it looks like you’ve pulled through the worst of it. No organs hit, no tissue damaged. You’ll be back to normal in no time.”

  But Trammel did not care about any of that just then. “The hotel. The ranchers. What happened?”

&nbs
p; “Burned to the ground, I’m afraid,” Hagen said. “But no harm done. Best thing that happened to the place, really. Everyone got out alive—well, except for the low-down scums we killed. Twenty-one came at us and only ten survived. They were in your jail until yesterday, when Sheriff Moran came up to get them. They’re all awaiting trial now down in Laramie. Including Pete Stride. We’ve decided he was the ringleader of the whole thing, and the men of the ranch agreed. It’s not the truth, but it’s neater that way, and I like neat.”

  Trammel was having a hard time keeping up with all the details. “And the march?”

  “Never happened,” Hagen told him. “Can you believe that? Everyone was in an awful hurry to get out of here after the Clifford burned down. They practically cleared that roadblock your boys set up with their bare hands. All that trouble and preparation and it never even took place. Life’s got a funny way of working out.”

  As out of it as he might have been, Trammel could sense something had shifted in the mood of the room. “Hawkeye?” he croaked.

  “He’s fine,” Emily said as she helped him raise his head to drink some water. It burned going down at first, but felt good. He asked for more when he was finished, and she gave it to him. “You should’ve seen him handling those prisoners, Buck. He was like a smaller version of you. Handled them just like you would’ve done. Hawkeye’s becoming his own man.”

  Trammel was glad to hear it but was not surprised. As she lowered his head to the pillow, he lightly grabbed her hand. “What’s wrong, Emily? What aren’t you telling me? Something’s wrong. I know it.”

  She traded looks with Dr. Moore and said, “Maybe we should let Adam tell you in his own way.”

  “Adam?” he asked as she slid her hand away from his. “Why can’t you tell me?”

  He struggled to lift his neck as he watched Dr. Moore and Emily leave the room. He recognized it now as Emily’s bedroom, but kept that fact to himself.

  Hagen sat on the edge of the bed, beaming. “I’m so glad you’re back with us, Buck. Especially now that everything is wonderful.”

  Trammel would decide what was wonderful and what was not. “How?”

  “We read Charles’s will once my family finally got here. And, lo and behold, you’ll never guess what happened. The old goat left everything to me.” He gave Trammel’s right arm a good pat. “Isn’t that something? Life is funny, isn’t it?”

  “You?” Trammel rasped. He thought he had not heard him right. “He left everything to you?”

  “Yes, sir. They thought it was a lie at first, but the copy they found in Montague’s safe and among the papers up at the ranch house confirmed it. I am the sole owner of Blackstone-Hagen.”

  Hagen slapped his knee and laughed. “Oh, you should have seen their smug faces when the lawyers read the will. I thought Caleb’s head would explode. Oh, I’ll keep them at their posts, of course. I’m not going to cast them into the street penniless, though that’s what they were planning to do to me.” He crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling. “No, Buck. This is a brand-new Adam Hagen you’re witnessing. Not the vengeful young man you knew last week, but a generous man who seeks to use his good fortune for nothing but peace and profit for his fellow man.”

  The words seeped through his weary mind until they finally reached his understanding.

  And suddenly it all made terrible sense.

  He grabbed hold of Hagen’s wrist with all the strength he had and pulled him across the bed. “You forged that will and made Montague kill himself. You killed Charles and planted that copy in his office. You threw in with Clay to help you do it and you damned near got us all killed. I killed men because of you. Those ranch hands never would’ve attacked us if you hadn’t killed Charles.”

  He squeezed Hagen’s wrist with all his strength, hoping to break the arm. “I’m here because of you.”

  But for the first time in his adult life, Steven “Buck” Trammel’s strength was not enough to carry the day, for Adam Hagen took hold of Trammel’s wrist and easily pulled his right arm free.

  “That’s a narrow way of looking at things, my friend. After all, I wouldn’t even have made it out of Wichita alive if it hadn’t been for you. And all of your efforts to keep me alive have resulted in my wildest dreams coming true. Sure, we may have bent a few rules along the way, but we’ve made it here together, haven’t we? And I do mean we, old friend, because we are in this together. You’re the only man I can really trust.”

  Trammel’s rising temper competed with the rising pain coursing through his body. “You used me.”

  “Nonsense.” Hagen smiled. “You’re getting your reward for this, too, you know. The laudanum den you hated so much? Gone. They’re plying their trade in Laramie now. And now that I control my family’s fortune, I’ll be able to rebuild the Clifford into my version of what a hotel should be. A new mill will make this town a wholesome place to live again. Why, I plan on having the railroad run up this way to cut down on the travel time between Blackstone and Laramie. We’ll make it in an hour instead of half a day. We’ll need it now that everything we’ve wanted is at hand.”

  Trammel gripped the bedsheet until he thought it would rip. “The only thing I want is to see you swing for the murder of Charles Hagen.”

  “Not too much chance of that happening.” He laughed as he stood up. “Everyone and everything my father used to control is now under my control, including the judges. Besides, we already have our pigeon for all of this, remember? Pete Stride will fit the bill nicely.”

  Trammel glared at Hagen as he went to leave. “I’ll kill you for this, Hagen. If I have to put you down myself, I’ll see to it you answer for this.”

  Hagen smiled down at him from the doorway. “No, you won’t, Buck. You’re not the type. Get better, my friend. And get better soon. We have a lot of good to do. Both of us.”

  And with a final wave of his hand, Adam Hagen was out the door and gone.

  And Buck Trammel was left alone with the terrible knowledge that he had played a role in all Adam Hagen’s evil.

  The pain that burned through his body was replaced by a still greater fire.

  The need to bring Adam Hagen to justice once and for all.

  TURN THE PAGE FOR AN EXCITING PREVIEW!

  JOHNSTONE COUNTRY. VENGEANCE IS HERE.

  A good man like Perley Gates knows that when you

  race with the devil, you’d better cross the finish line

  first—or you won’t finish at all . . .

  They rode into town like the Four Horsemen of the

  Apocalypse. Four armed outlaws bringing their own brand

  of hell to Paris, Texas. First they rob the First National

  Bank. Then they take a woman hostage as insurance.

  When Perley Gates learns that local waitress

  Becky Morris is in the hands of these tough customers,

  he joins a posse with the Triple-G ranch hands

  to get her back. Problem is, the outlaws are heading

  toward Red River—straight into Indian Territory.

  That’s where the ranch hands draw the line.

  But Perley won’t give up. He manages to rescue the girl,

  but not before killing the gang’s leader.

  Now he’s incurred the wrath of the other three . . .

  The race is on. Come hell or high water, Perley has to

  get Becky across the Red River—before three vengeful

  devils make it flow with their blood . . .

  National Bestselling Authors

  William W. Johnstone

  and J. A. Johnstone

  RED RIVER VENGEANCE

  A PERLEY GATES WESTERN

  On sale now, wherever Pinnacle Books are sold.

  CHAPTER 1

  “Reckon we’ll find out if Beulah’s cookin’ tastes as good as it did when she called her place the Paris Diner,” Sonny Rice announced as he drove the wagon carrying supplies behind Perley, who was riding the bay gelding named Buck. />
  “How do you know that?” young Link Drew asked. “He just said he wanted to see the new hotel.”

  “I know ’cause he always eats at Beulah’s place when he comes to town for supplies,” Sonny replied. “Why do ya think I volunteered to drive the wagon in?”

  “I bet the food won’t be a whole lot better’n what Ollie cooks,” Link said. It was his honest opinion. The gangly orphan had never eaten as well as he did now, ever since Perley brought him to live at the Triple-G after his parents were killed. Although most of the crew at the Triple-G complained good-naturedly about Ollie Dinkler’s lack of compassion, they had to admit that he had taken a special interest in the welfare of the young lad.

  “It’ll be a whole lot fancier,” Sonny said, “and it’ll look better comin’ from a pretty woman, instead of an old man with tobacco juice in his whiskers.”

  Ahead of the wagon, Perley reined Buck back to a halt and waited for Sonny and Link to come up beside him. “They built it right next to the railroad tracks,” Perley stated the obvious. “That’ll be handy, won’t it? Get off the train and you can walk to the hotel.” He nudged his horse and rode up to the rail in front of the hotel and stepped down to wait for the wagon. “Park it on the side, Sonny,” he directed. “You and Link go on in and get us a table. I’m just gonna walk through the hotel and take a look.” The hotel had been completed while Perley and Possum Smith were down in Bison Gap, and he was curious to see what kind of place it was going to be. According to what his brother Rubin told him, the fellow who built it made his money in cotton. Amos Johnson was his name, and he thought the little town of Paris was ready for a first-class hotel. Rubin said he had talked Beulah Walsh into moving her business into the hotel. Perley figured what Rubin had told him must have been right because the little Paris Diner building was vacant when they had ridden past.