As each guard fell, Indians were swooping in to retrieve the weapons and now the reckoning force of Indians was turning into an offensive. The valley echoed with the thundering volleys. Men were falling and dying. Both red man and white man alike were dying this day in the sun.
Jack fired again and again, moving quickly from side to side, dodging flying lead as it whistled past him like a nest of angry bees. Cover, he needed cover. He fell behind a barrel. Lead poured into it. He peered out furtively and threw lead back. Then he rose and ran retreating toward the boiler hut. Bullets splintered the casing as Jack slid around the corner into another guard. He fired directly into the man’s belly, jumped over his fallen frame and threw his shoulder into the building’s door.
The door shattered under the impact and Clayton practically fell through, landing on the wooden floor with wood splinters showering him. He rolled to his back in time to see two guards inside rush at him. He fired twice and downed them both. Pushing himself to his feet, he saw three more men advancing toward the open doorway from outside. He fired, one man fell. The other two ducked back out of line of fire as Clayton squeezed the trigger and found this colt empty too. No time to reload! He dropped the pistol and ran toward a stairway that led to the roof.
Passing the boiler at the foot of the stairs, Clayton gripped the thermostat lever and pushed it all the way to its extreme. He rushed up the stairs. There was a doorway at the top. He rushed through just as the two guards ran into the building, firing and riddling the door as it slammed shut behind the G-Man.
Outside Clayton found himself on a catwalk that led to the water tower platform. From this platform he dived into the water sluice that led to the second level of planking running along the mountainside, and slid pall mall down the chute.
Inside one guard shouted to the other, gesturing toward the boiler gage. “Get out of here! She’s gonna blow!” The two men dived out the door, just as the boiler burst and the building blew to a million shards of wood and debris raining over the whole valley. Flames gusting skyward, smoke filling the air. The blast took the water tower with it, dumping tons of water, bringing down scaffolding and planking.
The sluice crumbled beneath the G-Man’s feet and he dived sideways out of the chute into mid air and seemed to hang their suspended like a feather in a storm, then he fell hard, crashing onto the second level planking. His whole body ached and his head felt like his body had been driven upward into it as he landed. The force was so great that the planking gave way to the impact and his feet fell straight though the broken wood. His arms, feeling like they had been ripped from their sockets, splayed outward and gripped the floor of the planking. He held on for dear life, his feet dangling through the hole and the sharp broken pieces of board dug into his body as he struggled to pull himself upward and out of the hole.
A loud crack came from above. He looked up and saw the third level scaffolding swaying. A major part of the water tower had fallen on it and had broken the framing loose from the mountain.
“It’s! Going to fall,” Jack thought to himself. “Got to get out of here!”
He reached out farther from the hole, getting a grip to pull himself upward. He heaved forward. Moved a little. Then he reached out again and shoved again. Again he moved. Twice more he repeated the process. He was making progress. The scaffolding above moved and clattered again. Again he reached out and pulled. More progress. Now just his boots the still hung through the hole. He started to pull again, then he halted abruptly. In front of his nose was a pair of boots. He tried to look up through the matted hair hanging in his eyes. He saw the blue black barrel of an army colt staring him in the face.
Bert Fleming, looking a little worse for wear after the pistol whippings Jack had given him, grinned down at him. “You’ve done enough G-Man,” He growled, earing back the hammer.
Clayton stared blankly without emotion waiting. Then ,CRAAASH the scaffolding above started to crumble. A section fell toward them. Fleming fell backward and Jack pushed himself forward, all the way out of the hole and dived on top of Bert Fleming, gripping his gun arm and rolling close to the side of the mountain. The debris fell and tumbled, falling outward from the mountain and barely missing the two men on the planking, as they struggled for possession of the weapon
Back and forth the two men rolled, each man gripping the others arms, Jack’s left clutching Fleming’s right. Fleming trying to bring the gun barrel to bear on Jack’s face. Fleming pushed hard and rolled over, pinning Clayton beneath him.
Jack had fought this man this way before on the boat. Again Fleming was winning, bringing the pistol barrel closer and closer. Clayton wild eyed, mustard his strength and rolled sharply away from the mountain wall, bent his knees, and kicked out at Bert’s midsection. Fleming grunted with pain. Jack loosed his right hand grip and drove his fist into Fleming’s jaw. The man fell back loosening his grip on the weapon, Jack lifted Fleming’s gun hand and slammed it down on a wooden plank. The pistol slid loose and skittered across the planking. Clayton rolled back, stretching his body out to reach for it. Inches away! He crawled forward, reaching, reaching.
Fleming on his feet now, sprang forward, stomping his boot down hard on Jack’s hand before he could close his fingers around it. Fleming snatched it up, laughed and pulled the trigger….just as a section of scaffolding fell, striking him full force in the chest and head. He had no time to scream as he fell backward off the planking onto the ground below with tumbling scaffolding pounding and burying his body.
Jack rolled back tight against the wall of the mountain and let it all pass. He lay there, heaving and gasping for air, watching the dust billowing up from the rubble.
A moment. Maybe two. That was all he could spare. No time to rest. Only until the falling debris was over and it was safe to move from his shelter. He could still hear gunshots. The battle was still raging, but seemed to be coming to an end as the shooting became less frequent and intense.
****
Chapter Twenty Three
Last Regret