Free Seven Out of Hell by George G. Gilman Page B

dug up dirt short of the target and Hemingway splashed through the stream and scuttled towards a stand of trees halfway down the slope.
    “The bastard ran out on us!” Terry roared.
    “He ain’t ready to die,” Hedges taunted “It ain’t afternoon yet.”
    “Where’s he go, Captain?” Bell wanted to know, scanning the street, fearful of attack from another quarter.
    “Forget him,” Hedges answered from the open doorway. “Across the river and into the trees.” He looked along the street towards the church and saw the big door was still firmly closed. “Get the others,” he instructed and stepped outside, flattening himself against the front wall.
    “Bill, they’re coming out!” a woman shrieked from the church.
    Bell, Rhett and Douglas came through the doorway sideways and then followed Hedges in a crouched run for the gap between the house they had left and the one occupied by the other three troopers. Terry pushed his revolver out of his doorway and sent a wild shot harmlessly across the front of the houses.
    “You out there?” Forrest called.
    Hedges kept his voice low. “I’ll cover the front. Make it out the rear.”
    He stepped away from the corner and began firing along the ^street, working the action of the Spencer to the limit of its speed. Then, when the gun was empty, he snatched Rhett’s rifle and continued in the same manner.
    Inside the house Forrest whirled and broke into a run across the sitting room and into the kitchen. Seward was hard on his heels. The sergeant crashed into the rear door and it was ripped off its hinges. As he and Seward burst into the open they began to pour lead towards the house next door. The startled Scott had to crouch down under their line of fire as he made his escape. Only one wild shot was exploded from the rear of Terry’s stronghold before the three troopers ducked into cover to join the other four Union men.
    Hedges began to reload both the emptied Spencers as Rhett relieved himself against the house wall.
    “He’s getting better,” Seward rasped. “Didn’t wet his pants this time.”
    Hedges threw the New Englander’s rifle to him. “It’s the only goddamn weapon he’s fired all morning.”
    Rhett’s expression was twisted by the insult, but the Captain’s eyes, narrowed again into menacing slits, warned him against a retort.
    “We blasted four and one run off,” Forrest said, reloading his own gun. “I figure six more to go.”
    “You count better by the minute,” Hedges complimented sarcastically, motioning the troopers towards the rear end of the entry between the two houses.
    “You’re gonna enjoy this, Bob,” Scott said softly. “We’re gonna take ’em from behind.”
    “You’re not funny!” Rhett spat at him.
    “Damn right I ain’t,” Scott retorted. “I’m straight.”
    “And you’ve got a big mouth,” Hedges hissed at him. “Open it once more and you’ll be able to flap it from ear to ear.”
    Hedges raised his hand and fingered the bulge of the razor pouch at the back of his neck. Long seconds of silence tightened a grip on the troopers. The low croak of Forrest’s voice broke it.
    “I ain’t for all going in on one side, Captain.”
    Hedges let out pent up breath as a sigh and locked his gaze with that of the sergeant. “The women owe you any favors?” Forrest looked confused. “They got their eyes on the street. If so much as an ant moves out there, they’ll yell at Terry to blast it.”
    Forrest considered this while the others watched him. Finally, his expression conceded the truth of Hedges’ statement. But he could not allow it to rest there.
    “Waiting in the open ain’t no better than time-wasting inside,” he challenged.
    “So let’s go chase the cruds out of there,” the Captain answered.
    He tossed his rifle up on to the flat roof of the house, hooked his fingers over the angle of the roof and wall and hauled himself aloft. It took the startled troopers a moment to assimilate this move