Free Blood on Mcallister by Matt Chisholm Page B

doubt in the sheriff’s mind that McAllister had had no choice when he had shot down Clem and Griff, but that wouldn’t make any difference to the senior Brenell. When he heard what had happened to his son, he would come into town loaded for bear.
    For the last hour, the mob outside the office had beenquieter, but, now suddenly they grew strident again. The two men in the office could hear some ring-leader exhorting them to action. They gathered around him on the other side of the street, drink in their hands, shouting agreement to his speech. One or two, too drunk to stand, lay either on the sidewalk or in the dust of the street.
    Krantz went to a shutter and watched them through a slit. He saw the speaker jump down from the wagon-bed from which he had made his speech and lead the way across the street. The crowd started after him. A dozen or so were bunched tightly together; they were chanting in unison, the excitement high and Krantz saw that they bore a large and heavy object in their arms. He couldn’t see clearly by the dim lamplight, but it looked like a great beam of wood to him. That meant they intended to batter down the door. He reached for the shotgun and said to McAllister: ‘We’re about to have company. They’re goin’ to batter the door down.’
    â€˜What do you do if they do?’ McAllister asked.
    â€˜This greener ain’t for decoration,’ the sheriff said.
    McAllister told him: ‘You ain’t goin’ to fire on ‘em an’ you know it, Mart.’
    â€˜I can bluff to the last minute.’
    â€˜Then they hang me. No, sir, I don’t fancy that. Open that door and save yourself buyin’ a new one.’
    The usually taciturn sheriff looked distraught.
    â€˜Hell, I can’t do this to you, boy,’ he said.
    â€˜You ain’t doin’ nothin’ to me, Mart. Open that door an’ quit foolin’ around.’
    The noise from the crowd was deafening now. Mart gave McAllister a long look and stepped to the door. When he opened it, the crew with the battering-ram were just ready to make their assault. When they saw the sheriff, they paused. A great cry went up.
    Mart raised his hand. In the other was the shotgun.
    When there was silence, he said: ‘Boys, this ain’t goin’ to do you no good.’
    They howled back their obscenities at him.
    â€˜Give us McAllister, Krantz, an’ get the hell out of it.’
    Somebody fired a shot and the bullet thudded into the wall of the office. Krantz lowered the shotgun and cocked both hammers. The men to the rear of the crowd pushed the frontranks forward and they came to the edge of the sidewalk. Those at the front strained back to-get away from the greener.
    There was a sudden silence as McAllister stepped out of the office. Then a solitary man yelled: ‘There he is.’ A howl went up.
    When it had died, McAllister raised his voice.
    â€˜So I shot your champion. An’ he wasn’t no damn good.’
    They bellowed back at him, shaking their fists, fouling the air with their curses. Only the shotgun stopped them from flooding forward and tearing him to pieces. Savagery showed on every face there. The sheriff shouted for silence. Let them hear what McAllister had to say.
    A man bawled: ‘It’s be the last thing he says afore we stretch his neck.’ The rest of them howled their agreement.
    McAllister, as soon as he could make himself heard, said: ‘Like I said, Brenell wasn’t no damn good. You lost nothin’. I whipped him. What do you think Billy Gage would of done to him? He had three men to help him an’ I whipped him. Gage would have eaten him alive.’ They tried to shout him down, but he persisted.
    A man yelled: ‘But that don’t help much. So you whipped him. But that don’t give us anybody ‘at can go against Gage.’
    McAllister bawled back: ‘I’ll go against Gage.’
    That stopped them