Cry of the Hawk

He was flush with confusion, joy, relief, and then again fear. “Keep covered. This fella’s got him some gunmen left, Shad.”

A bullet whined overhead.

“How many, Jonah?”

“Don’t know—”

“You’re still mine, Hook. And the girl too!”

“Girl, Jonah?”

“My daughter, Shad.”

“Hattie’s there with you?” a new voice sang out.

Something familiar to it, but not like the hominess of Shad Sweete’s colicky bellow.

“Who’s asking?”

“It’s Riley Fordham, Jonah.”

“She’s here with me, Riley,” he called into the dark.

“Ah—Mr. Fordham!” Wiser cried. “What an unexpected pleasure. Not only will I get to watch Hook die—as slow and painfully as possible—but I will have the pleasure of killing you as well. Cutting off your head and presenting it to Colonel Usher when next I see him at Fort Laramie.”

Wiser laughed, loud enough that Hook stood, without thinking, firing the last two shots in the one pistol, then aiming the second into the dark. One, two … then three shots—

A scream, then many footsteps pounded the hard earth, flinging the small door aside noisily. Until there was no more noise from the front of the stables.

Hook listened to the quiet for a long, long time.

“Go ’round front, Fordham,” Jonah called out.

“Already sent him, Jonah,” Sweete replied.

Jonah cautiously stepped to the corner of the stall, listening. All he heard between each of his own steps was the labored breathing of one of them. Then the creak of the hinges at the front door.

“The rest run off, Jonah,” Fordham called out. “Likely they’re on their way to their camp—get the rest. We gotta be making tracks, and now.”

“Fordham’s right, Jonah,” Shad said.

“This ain’t finished.”

They joined him, finding Hook standing over Wiser, one boot on his gun hand.

Sweete knelt beside the man, putting his ear against his wet, dark-slicked chest. “He ain’t got long, Jonah. You plugged him in the lights twice’t. Who is he?”

“Damn.” Hook used his boot toe to knock the man’s pistol aside. “This one had Hattie.”

“We gotta go,” Fordham said anxiously. “Get her out—”

“G’won, then. I appreciate what you done, coming to help me. You can go now. Save your hide, Riley.”

“Listen, dammit. I put my own neck on the line to come back to make sure Hattie was safe. No different from you, Jonah.”

“She’s safe.”

“Where’s she?”

“Back there. They got her pretty sleepy. She don’t know nothing that’s going on.”

Fordham stepped away as Jonah knelt over Wiser. Shad shifted, turning his head first this way, then that, as he listened for sounds of the gunmen returning.

Hook stuffed the muzzle of his pistol up under Boothog’s nose. “Before you go, you sonofabitch—why don’t you die clean so you can meet your maker proper.”

“You can go to hell, Gentile,” Wiser gurgled. “Filthy vermin—”

“I figure I will go to hell, in the end. But right now—that’s where I’m fixing to send you. I’ll be a while getting there before I join you.” With the muzzle and front sight, he lifted Wiser’s upper lip, ramming the pistol in hard against the gums and upper teeth.

“He know where your wife is, Jonah?”

“He does—and I do too,” Hook answered. “Now, Boothog—let’s just come clean with your dying breath, you want to tell me where I can begin looking for my boys.”

“I don’t have any idea, sod—”

Jonah drew the hammer back with a loud click. “I thought I spoke good enough English for you to understand, Major. Maybe you just don’t listen good unless it hurts real bad. That’s it—ain’t it? Your kind likes to hurt … enjoys it something special. All right then.”

Hook pulled his pistol away from Wiser’s mouth and jammed the muzzle against the man’s thigh, pulling the trigger.

Wiser shrieked, almost biting through his lower lip as he squirmed on the floor of the barn. His pant leg smoked until enough blood seeped from the gaping bullet hole to snuff out the smoldering cloth.

“Tell me where I start to find my boys.” He cocked the pistol and jammed the muzzle against the major’s other thigh.

“Good glory, Jonah!”

“Die in hell, you dumb sodbuster!”

He fired. Wiser doubled up in pain, then Jonah brought the pistol butt down into his groin. And pointed it at the major’s scrotum.

“Jonah!” cried Shad.

“I’ll save your balls for later.”

“Jonah—he ain’t gonna talk—”

Shad was too late.

Hook flicked the muzzle just below the bottom rib on Wiser’s left side and pulled the trigger. Wiser doubled up with a gurgling grunt, rolling onto that side as Jonah got out of his way.

“You’re not gonna get a thing outta him, Jonah.”

Hook kicked Wiser’s head brutally to the side, then knelt again to hold the man’s chin cupped in his left hand. “Is that right, Major? You figure I’ll never get any word out of you?”

“J-just leave me die,” Wiser gurgled. “The rest … they’ll be coming for you now. Anywhere you go—”

“Let’s ride, Jonah.” Shad stood.

Behind them Fordham came up, the girl cradled across his arms. “She didn’t get hit. It’s a miracle, as much lead was—”

“Get her on a horse, Riley. Now!” Jonah snapped.

Fordham turned and was gone without a word.