Ten

4.3K 258 3
                                    

Ten

 

Grim, Davy checked his load—three rounds left—and strode toward Jack with his pistol at the ready. That miserable son of a bitch had shot him in the back! It took every ounce of Davy’s self control not to do the same. “Don’t try anything, Dawes.”

Jack flipped a wild-eyed gaze up to Davy. “My leg! I-it’s half gone.”

Davy drew cautiously closer and saw that Jack had taken a bullet to the shin. Bone shards poked through the bloodied trouser leg, and the leg rested at an odd angle. Davy had seen many such injuries in the war. “I’d say you’ll lose that leg,” he drawled, keeping his weapon trained on Dawes. “If you don’t hang first.”

“Ah, hell, Davy. Just shoot me. Shoot me!”

Anger burned in his belly for all that Jack had nearly striped from him for the sake of greed. His finger slid around the trigger. “Goodbye, Jack.”

“Don’t do it, Davy!” Lilly called from behind him. “I know what he did to you, but you’re not the sort of man to shoot a man that’s already down.”

Torn, Davy fingered the trigger, and gritted his teeth. He wanted to shoot the bastard and exact his revenge so badly he could taste it, but…

“Davy…” Lilly’s sweet voice beckoned him, soothed his ire. She was right. Shooting a wounded man in the street wasn’t justice.

“You’re under arrest, Dawes.” He quickly confiscated the outlaw’s weapons. “We can discuss the extent of your crimes once you’re locked in the jailhouse.”

Within twenty minutes the sheriff and deputies had Foster, Dawes, and the remaining gang members securely behind bars.

“Near as we can tell this lot meant to ambush Marshal Langston and make a quick get away with the horses saddled and ready to go waiting behind the saloon,” Deputy Marlin explained.

“You’re damn lucky that first shot missed,” Sheriff Brody said seriously.

Davy glanced to Lilly and smiled. “Luck had nothing to do with it. My wife spotted Dawes and pulled me out of the way.”

She returned the smile, and suddenly he couldn’t quite recall why he’d left her to chase these outlaws all over hell in the first place. It was his job, to be true, but had it been necessary to be so driven? Her simple smile was luminescent, like sunshine and moonlight all rolled into one, and her eyes… her eyes glittered like diamonds. But while diamonds were cold and hard in their beauty, Lilly was warm. When she gazed up at him as she did now he could all but forget the dull throb in his shoulder. Her very essence was healing. He wanted to sink into her warmth and drown in that glittering blue. He wanted to lie in her loving arms and whisper of all that filled his heart. He extended a hand, reaching for her, and she slid her palm into his without breaking the bond of their eyes.

Briefly he glanced back to the sheriff. “Congratulations, Sheriff Brody, you’ve brought in the entire Foster Gang to justice. A fine Christmas gift to the state of Nevada.”

Brody chuckled. “I’d say you hold a share of that credit, Marshal.”

Davy shook his head. “No. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” And a blind fool not to have seen Jack for the dirty lawman he was sooner. “If you’ll excuse us.” He nodded to the men collected in the jailhouse. “I have Christmas to spend with my wife.”

“What about that wire?” Lilly asked. “Don’t you need to contact the Marshals office?”

Davy shrugged. “It can wait.”

Ghost of Christmas PastWhere stories live. Discover now