World War III (52 page)

“You broke my nose!” He cried out, covering his crooked nose with both hands.

“Yes I did,” agreed Shiloh, pulling his chair back and sitting down. He glanced up and met Cody’s deadly stare from across the table. “Sorry about that,” he added, calmly, “but your man startled me.”

Cody’s face turned red, as he tried to control his rage. He tossed back his head and finished the remainder of whiskey, before placing the empty shot glass on the table in front of him. A wicked grin materialized on his face, as he hooked his thumbs behind his belt, inches from his gun. Without uttering a word, his men slowly spread out, their hands hovering over the guns strapped in their holsters.

“Ya all better clear out,” advised Cody, his gaze intent upon Shiloh.

All of the men sitting around the game, with the exception of Shiloh, scooted back from the table and quietly slinked away.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Van, who was the last to leave, “but I gotta wife and kid at home.”

Shiloh smiled at the older man and nodded. “I understand,” he said. He couldn’t blame any of them for wanting to return home alive. It wasn’t their fight and the last thing he wanted was an innocent bystander getting killed, leaving a widow and orphan behind. “This doesn’t have to go any further,” he added, his eyes never leaving Cody’s. “I didn’t come here looking for trouble. I’ve come to speak with Mayor Blackwell.”

From the corner of his eye, Shiloh noticed a rather tough looking man, wearing blue jeans and a cowboy hat, stiffen at the mention of the Mayor, before turning and heading upstairs.

An ominous silence fell over the saloon, while everyone watched in dread. Most of the occupants had seen Cody kill many a man, yet for some reason this stranger seemed different. Unlike Sheriff Hyde’s previous prey, this man didn’t appear frightened.

“Well ya should’ve thought of that before breaking my friend’s nose,” hissed Cody.

“I was simply defending myself,” stated Shiloh. “Only a coward attacks from behind?”

“Ya sure talk tough for a man all by his lonesome,” grinned Cody. “Ya think you’re tough enough to handle all of us?”

“Six against one,” observed Shiloh, glancing skeptically at the men surrounding the table, “it hardly seems fair.”

“What’s the matter, you scared?” Cody taunted, feeling emboldened.

“Hardly,” said Shiloh, smiling back. “I meant it wouldn’t be fair for you and your men.”

The sound of muffled laughter could be heard throughout the saloon, angering Cody even more.

Shiloh glanced up and noticed the man wearing the cowboy hat on the second floor. He was bent down whispering in the ear of a woman, sitting at a table alone. Unlike every other woman in the brothel, she wasn’t dressed in provocative lingerie. Instead she wore a skirt and a black blouse, with a plunging V-neck. When she noticed Shiloh looking at her, she smiled and whispered something to the cowboy.

“We don’t like strangers round here,” hissed Cody, desperately wanting to kill this man, who openly defied his authority. But for the first time in his life, he hesitated and wasn’t sure why. Yet he had to do something, no one laughed at Cody Hyde and lived to tell the tale.

“My name is Shiloh Evans.”

“Who gives a damn what your name is,” retorted Cody, gaining more confidence.

“Well, now we’re not strangers,” replied Shiloh. Once again the room was filled with laughter.

Cody’s eyes became wide with anger, as his hand inched closer to his gun. But before he could do anything rash, a voice from behind stopped him.

“Cody Hyde, if ya so much as touch your gun I’ll split ya in two!” The man wearing the cowboy hat held a double-barreled shotgun, pointed directly at Cody. And he was right, from such a short distance the blast would likely tear Cody’s body in half.

“You taking his side, Hunter?” Cody slurred, glaring at the man holding the shotgun.

“I’m not taking any sides,” replied the cowboy named Hunter. “I just don’t wanna have to clean up the mess after.”

“Damien’s gonna hear about this!” Warned Cody, desperately wanting to reach for his gun, but wise enough not to.

“I honestly don’t give a damn,” replied Hunter. “Mr. Kirkpatrick isn’t the Mayor of Mound House and you aren’t the Sheriff. So don’t for one second think ya can come round here bullying people and get away with it!”

“You ain’t heard the end of this!” Spat Cody, turning on his heels and heading for the door, his men trailing behind.

“Aren’t you forgetting something,” said Hunter, his shotgun still pointed at Cody.

Cody stopped, turned around and hissed, “What?”

“You fellas haven’t paid your tab.”

Shiloh could see blood rush to Cody’s face, as anger bubbled up within. For a moment, he thought the man might chance it and go for his gun, but caution got the better of him.

Cody reached into his pocket and withdrew a silver coin and tossed it on the table. “I’ll be seeing you again!” He said, glaring at Shiloh, before spinning on his heels and leaving.

“Thanks for your help,” said Shiloh. “I didn’t want to kill him.”

“Kill him?” Repeated Hunter, a grin forming at the corner of his mouth. “Ya realize you were outnumbered six to one? If I hadn’t come along you’d be dead by now.”

“Maybe,” replied Shiloh, slowly lifting his hand from under the table. Gripped in his palm was a six-shooter, cocked and ready. “Maybe not,” he added, resting the pistol on the table in front of him, within easy reach.

“You only have six shots,” observed Hunter.

“True,” agreed Shiloh, “but as you’ve already pointed out there were only six of them and at this distance, how could I miss?”

“There are no firearms allowed within city limits,” declared Hunter, reaching for the gun on the table.

“Then why are you packing?” Shiloh asked, resting his hand on the six-shooter and making it clear he’d no intention of surrendering the weapon.

Hunter hesitated, not wanting a shoot-out. He wasn’t scared, but the stranger was right, at this distance neither of them would miss. “I’m the Sheriff of Mound House,” he stated. “I represent the Mayor and I enforce the laws, of which this is one.”

“Of course,” smiled Shiloh, relinquishing his weapon. “I’d like to speak with the Mayor.”

“That can be arranged. I heard you say your name is Shiloh Evans?”

“That’s right.”

“And where are you from?”

“Clearview.”

“Pleasure to meet ya, my name is Hunter Ashcroft,” he said, tucking the six-shooter behind his belt. “Come with me.”

Shiloh stood and collected his winnings. Glancing around, he noticed the woman on the second floor watching him closely. Her light, blue eyes were piercing, an exotic contrast to her long, dark hair. But it wasn’t her beauty which made his eyes linger, it was the intense way she looked at him. Their eyes connected and she smiled, before looking away.

Shiloh followed Hunter up the stairs, as a piano began to play and the patrons resumed their games. Reaching the top of the staircase, he noticed the blue-eyed, dark-haired beauty had vanished. He was led to a heavy, wooden door, with two men standing guard. Hunter opened the door and ushered him inside, before closing it behind him.

Shiloh was immediately greeted by a giant, stuffed, grizzly bear, standing on its hind quarters, with outstretched arms. At the far end of the room was a large, oak desk, intricately engraved. Behind the desk was an oversized, leather chair, its back turned toward him. Although he couldn’t see the person sitting in the chair, a thin tendril of smoke rose from the other side. He took a step forward, floorboards creaking beneath his feet.

“Hello, my name is Shiloh,” he said, taking another step forward. “I’ve come from the town of Clearview.”

“I know who you are and where you’ve come from,” said a soft, delicate voice. “The question is, why have you come?” The chair slowly swiveled around, revealing the blue-eyed, dark-haired woman.

“I need to speak with the Mayor,” said Shiloh, as the woman puffed on a small cigar. Her nose wrinkled and she stifled a cough, before placing the cigar in an ash tray.

“And so you are,” she smiled, enjoying the look of shock on his face.

“You’re Mayor Blackwell?” He asked, doubtfully. “But, you’re a woman.”

“Very observant of you Mr. Evans,” she said. “Can’t a woman be a Mayor?”

“Well, of course. I just thought, well in a town as rough as this…”

“You thought I’d be a man,” she said, finishing his sentence.

“Yes, yes I did.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“No disappointment ma’am,” he said, glancing around the lavishly decorated room.

“I’m glad to hear that,” replied the Mayor, opening a humidor full of cigars. “Would you like one?”

“No thanks.”

“Please, have seat Mr. Evans,” she said, indicating the chair across from her. “My name is Scarlett Blackwell, how may I be of service?” She leaned forward, resting her arms on the desk and gazed deep into his eyes, the low-cut blouse revealing her ample bosom. She was surprised when his eyes didn’t immediately drop to her cleavage, but instead remained fixed on hers. He wasn’t like most men and she liked it.

“Please, call me Shiloh ma’am.”

“Okay, Shiloh,” she giggled, “but only if you call me Scarlett. Ma’am, makes me feels old.”

“Of course,” smiled Shiloh. “I’ve come to warn you of the foreign army amassing at Lake Tahoe and preparing to march across the mountains. Volunteers from the Clearview Militia are trying to slow their advance, but we need more men. We’ve dispatched several messengers to surrounding towns, notifying them of the impending danger.”

“Thank you for the warning,” said Scarlett, her eyes fixed on his.

“Of course,” he said, clearing his throat, “but that’s not the only reason I’m here.”

“No?” Scarlett looked at him skeptically, sizing him up. “Are you here for one of my girls?”

“Heavens no!” Shiloh gasped, blushing red.

“Then what is it?” She asked, his embarrassment bringing a smile to her face. For the first time since his arrival, he seemed nervous and uneasy.

“I’ve come to recruit fighters,” he explained. “If we all unite and band together, as one fighting unit, we might be able to stop the enemies advance.”

“It seems like a reasonable request, seeing as how our fates are intertwined,” replied Scarlett. “How many men do you need?”

“As many as possible,” answered Shiloh, “anyone who can carry a gun.”

“I could probably recruit seven hundred, give or take,” she said. “Would that be enough?”

“That would help a lot!”

“How many do you currently have?”

“A few thousand,” replied Shiloh. “Hopefully more by the time I get back. When I’m finished here I’m headed for Dayton to speak with their Mayor.”

“I wouldn’t count on Damien Kirkpatrick for help,” she said, standing up and walking to a small mini-bar, in the corner of the room. “He’s just as likely to attack your town, once you’ve engaged the enemy and your backs are turned. The man is unscrupulous and entirely unreliable!” She turned, holding two glasses of scotch and returned to the desk, where Shiloh sat listening.

Scarlett wasn’t sure why, but for some strange reason she felt drawn to this man from Clearview and wanted to know more about him. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, but it took more than pretty, blue eyes and broad shoulders to win her heart. Perhaps it was because he didn’t gawk at her the way other men did, or maybe the air of confidence he exuded. She wasn’t sure what it was, but for some unexplainable reason, she wanted to call this man her own.

“I still have to try,” replied Shiloh, impervious to her unspoken desires. “We need as many men as we can muster.”

“Of course,” she agreed, handing him a glass of scotch, “but be careful and never turn your back on the man.”

Her hand softly caressed his, when Shiloh reached for the drink. He couldn’t tell if was intentional or not and pretended not to notice.

Scarlett sat on the corner of the desk and crossed her legs, inches from Shiloh’s hand. His eyes flickered down to her smooth, bare legs for a brief second, before quickly looking away. So he does notice me. She thought, before taking a sip of the scotch.

“Thank you,” said Shiloh, staring into the amber liquid and trying to ignore the proximity of her legs. He wasn’t about to let anything distract him, not even the seductive allure of a beautiful woman.

“Have you ever met Mr. Kirkpatrick?”

“No,” he admitted, “but I know the type.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” she cautioned. “He likes to dress fancy and pretend like he’s a business man, but he’s as quick as a rattler and twice as deadly.”

“I’ll remember that,” said Shiloh, taking a sip of scotch.

“Do you know how he became the Mayor of Dayton?” She asked, crossing her legs in the other direction. Her leg rubbed against Shiloh’s hand and he quickly pulled away.

“Based on what I heard downstairs,” he said, uncomfortably taking a sip of scotch, “I understand he murdered Mayor Martinez and assumed his position, seizing control of the town.”