five outlaws as they closed the gap. Dalton continued to return fire.
“We’re coming for you, judge!” shouted Dick.
Another flurry of shots pelted the carriage and Dalton suddenly heard the horrified shrieks of Beverly and the kids.
“Helen! She’s been shot!” Beverly screamed.
“No!” Bill wailed. He ripped the reins to the left as he turned around toward the carriage. The horses made a sharp turn off the road.
“Bill, the reins!” Dalton screamed, but it was too late.
The horses quickly veered right to avoid a large rock, but the carriage was not so fortunate. The left front wheel struck the rock, flipping the carriage head over heels and throwing Dalton several feet into the air before he thudded to the ground. The harness somehow snapped without hurting the horses and they galloped into the distance as the carriage crashed to the ground upside down, crushing Bill beneath it.
Dalton hollered for his wife and kids, unable to imagine that anyone could have survived inside the carriage. Then he heard the blood-curdling shrieks of Beverly.
“David! Susan! Oh God, no!”
“Beverly!” Dalton screamed.
“Dalton, they’re dead! Our babies are dead!”
“No!” he cried.
He leaped to his feet and ran toward the carriage but a shot suddenly rang through the air and his leg exploded in pain as he collapsed to the ground. The sound of hooves pounded his ears as the five outlaws circled him, still on horseback.
“Hello, judge,” Dick Rush sneered.
“You son of a bitch, I’ll kill you!” Dalton bellowed.
Another gunshot and Dalton’s other leg erupted in pain.
“That would be quite an accomplishment in your current position,” Dick said as he dismounted. He turned to two of his accomplices. “Go to the carriage. Drag any survivors out here.”
“Leave her alone!” Dalton shouted before Dick’s boot connected with his face, sending blood gushing out of his nose.
The four accomplices dismounted. Two of the men, who Dalton recognized as George Walker and Riley Williams, walked toward the carriage. The two who remained standing next to Dick were his brothers, Hollis and Jeb.
“Help me drag this cock sucker over to what’s left of the carriage and tie him up,” Dick commanded.
A fiery pain surged through Dalton’s body as Hollis and Jeb grabbed his wounded legs and dragged him across the rocky ground, jagged stones grinding into the back of his head. Dick pulled a wad of rope from the back of his horse and began tying a knot to the wreckage of the carriage. At the same time George and Riley emerged from the carriage with a screaming and struggling Beverly—and no one else. A fresh pang of despair rang through Dalton as he realized his children were indeed dead.
“Leave her alone, goddammit!” Dalton gurgled through the blood that filled his mouth before a fresh kick shattered his ribs.
Beverly continued to scream as George carried her over his shoulder.
“Shut up!” Riley shouted as he punched her in the face before George threw her to the ground with a thud.
Dalton struggled to yell through the pain, but could only manage a faint “kill you.”
The outlaws sat him up against the carriage and Dick wrapped the rope around his neck, securing him to the carriage so tightly that he could not move his head to either side. Dick then yanked Dalton’s arms behind his back and tied them together. Dalton’s legs continued to bleed the ground red.
George and Riley began to tear Beverly’s clothes off.
“Please,” Dalton pleaded, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Don’t do this! It's me you want!”
“Please?” Dick mocked. “Did I hear please? I’m going to show you the same mercy you showed me when you sentenced me to hang. I’m going to let you watch!”
“Please!” he begged, spitting blood out of his mouth. He could barely talk in anything more than a rasping whisper.
Beverly screamed louder as the men ripped the rest of the clothes from her body.
“I said shut up!” Riley hollered. He punched her in the mouth, sending blood spurting across her face. Riley began to shove a torn garment into her mouth.
“No!” Dick said. “Leave it out. I want the judge to hear every scream . . . and I get her first!”
Dalton tried to break free but he could not move. He tried to shout but no sound left his mouth. He could do nothing but cry.
Dick walked over to Beverly and dropped his pants. “Make sure he doesn’t pass out or close his eyes.” He then turned his gaze to Dalton and smiled. “Enjoy the show.”
All five men took a turn . . . and they forced Dalton to watch every brutal minute. His broken body repeatedly tried to carry him into unconsciousness but the outlaws kept him awake with slaps and splashes of water. When the men finally finished, Dalton could barely see Beverly’s motionless body through foggy eyes. He could not tell if she was even still alive. He tried to call out but his eyes rolled up into his head and he finally succumbed, mercifully, to darkness.
V
Now, as Dalton stared up at the corpses of his family, he cursed God for leaving him alive. Why couldn’t he have just died last night with the rest of them? He could not even comprehend how he still breathed after the beating he took. He looked down at his legs, swollen and infected from the gunshot wounds; he would lose them for sure. His face felt about twice its normal size and he could see the top of his tremendously swollen lips. Why would God leave him alive like this? Was he actually meant to survive this somehow? If so, legs or no legs, he would hunt down and kill every single one of those bastards, the law be damned. Just thinking about Rush and his gang sent an overwhelming flood of anger through Dalton and he decided that he would not give them the satisfaction of dying here.
First, he had to free his arms somehow. He looked around and saw a jagged rock protruding through the ground about ten feet away. He rolled his body over and over until he reached the rock. He positioned his hands over the rock and began grinding them against it. He rubbed for what seemed like hours, several times hollering in pain as he slipped and cut his hands on the rock, but finally managed to break free of the rope. He desperately wanted to cut down his family and give them a proper burial, but he did not even have the strength to stand. If he had any chance of making it he needed to get back to town as soon as possible, so he began to crawl in that direction.
He lost all sense of the passage of time but knew he had been crawling for several hours without encountering any sign of life. The town of Ransom, visible down in the valley, looked no closer than it had when he began. As the scorching sun beat down on his weakening, dehydrated body, Dalton realized with a sudden finality that he wasn’t going to make it. Why would God let him get this far only to die out here in the middle of nowhere? He couldn’t let it end. Not like this. Not while Dick Rush still roamed the streets as a free man and the bodies of his family hung from a tree. This could not be part of God’s plan. He felt an overwhelming need to rest but knew if he did he would likely never start moving again, so he struggled on for another few hundred feet until his body finally gave out and he rolled over onto his back, staring up into the blazing sun.
This is not the end, he thought. I’ll haunt you, Rush. Even if I have to sell my soul to the devil I’ll find a way to come back and make you pay.
Suddenly, as if in answer to his last thought, Dalton heard the galloping of hooves in the distance approaching his position—one set of hooves, a solo rider. With no ability to wave the rider down, he struggled to position himself in the middle of the road and prayed that the horseman would not run him over. The galloping sound grew louder and louder. The horse closed in, showing no sign of slowing down.
He’s not going to see me.
The vibration of the ground pounded Dalton’s head and dust began to kick up around him.
Well, at least the trampling will put me out of my misery.
At that moment the horse suddenly skidded to a stop inches f
rom Dalton’s head.
“What the hell are you doing?” a female voice shouted.
The woman leaped from the horse and began to circle around Dalton.
“My, my, looks like you’ve had a rough day,” she said, “so much blood.”
Did she just lick her lips?
As the woman knelt down and leaned over his face, Dalton’s gaze met the deep brown eyes of a stunningly beautiful woman. Long black hair framed her narrow face and flowed around her shoulders. The fact that she was dressed in the brownish colors of a cowboy, complete with boots and spurs, only enhanced her allure.
“Help,” Dalton wheezed.
“I’m kind of in a hurry. You see I can’t be out in the sun too long. It’s not good for my . . . uh . . . complexion.”
“Please—”
“You’re going to have to do better than that. I do have the power to help you, but you have to give me one good reason why I should.”
She leaned in closer and Dalton’s eyes widened as he saw long sharp teeth protrude from the top of her mouth. She sniffed around his neck and once again licked her lips.
“So much blood. So tempting . . . and I could use some replenishment,” she said. “On the other hand, I could make you as I am, stronger than you can possibly imagine. But if I use this power on you I will not be able to use it again for a long time. So again I ask you, why should I help you?”
Feeling himself slipping into unconsciousness, Dalton blurted the first thought that popped into his head. “Revenge.”
Her face