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the boards on which to hang odd bits of old harness, links of chain, and
whatever had been lying around loose. Near that wallwas a wooden bucket and a
pitchfork. On the ledge formed by a two-by-four that ran the length of the
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side between supporting posts, there had been a currycomb, a brush and some
heavy shears.
At the back of the barn was a window. Here and there cracks allowed a glimpse
of the lights of the town. The nearest building was about fifty yards off, the
pole corral on the side away from the town.
Somebody had either come here with Carpenter or had followed him here.Perhaps
had lain in wait for him. And Carpenter was dead.
Again, a faint stirring.Shanaghy cleared the thong from the hammer of his
six-shooter. He heard a faint creak and looked up. One of the big barn doors
was slowly swinging shut!
He started to rise ... Was it a trap?Or just the wind?
He was in the fourth and last stall. He got up suddenly and started for the
door. As he did so it swung shut and he heard a latch drop into place.
Rushing to the door, he pushed against it, but the door held firm. He knew
the hasp on the door couldn't be very strong. He stepped back to lunge against
it, hesitated, for fear of a shot,then threw himself at the barrier.
The door was immovable. Something was wedged against it from the outside. He
turned quickly toward the window ... It was too small!
For an instant Shanaghy stood perfectly still. This was stupid! What in the
world could be the reason? Nobody could be kept locked up like this for long.
He would get out on his own, or, when morning came and people began moving
about, he could callout ...
If he was alive.
Realization came to him one instant before he smelled the smoke.
Fire!
Destroying not only him, but Carpenter's body, as well->" Carpenter's body
with its telltale wounds.
Shanaghy was no fool to waste time in charging about or battering at walls.
The closest buildings were stores, empty at night. The feeble sounds he could
make, unless he started shooting, would attract no attention, and even the
shots might be passed off as some drunk celebrating a little.
The smoke was coming through cracks from the north side of the barn, the side
away from the town, and from the smell it was hay burning. Hay would create
the most smoke, and might smoulder for some time before growing into flame,
but it was smoke that killed most people in fires. Shanaghy knew that from the
firemen working Morrissey's volunteer companies inNew York .
He had to get out, and he had to get Carpenter's body out. He'd never get the
doors battered down in time.
The smoke was getting thicker. As he ran to Carpenter's body, he started
coughing. He lifted the smaller man from the manger ... to the back of the
barn.
The loft ... the small loft where hay was stored for use during bad weather!
There was a simple ladder of crosspieces nailed to a post that gave access to
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the loft.
Higher up, the smoke would be worse. No matter. It was the only way. Lifting
Carpenter's body, Shanaghy slung it over his shoulder. Holding the body in
place, he grasped the post itself with his free hand and climbed.
Five steps.He dumped the body on the little hay that remained. Then, coughing
and gasping, he reached for the roof.
It was made of poles with a crude thatch of branches and straw. Almost unable
to breathe, his eyes smarting from the smoke, he clawed at the poles with his
bare hands. He ripped and he tore. He got hold of a branch and broke it free.
Dust and dirt cascaded over him. He tore at the thatch, coughing with great,
lung-tearing gasps. Suddenly, his hand went through and fresh air flooded
around him. Below him, he heard the crackle of flames from inside the barn.
After ripping branches away, he grasped a pole and broke it by sheer brute
strength. More dust and straw tumbled through upon him, but there was more
fresh air, too.
Stooping, he grabbed Carpenter's body by the collar and crawled through the
hole onto the roof. Flames were leaping up behind him. None were yet visible
outside, although there was considerable smoke.
After reaching the edge of the barn, he dropped the body and leaped down
himself, falling quickly to one side, gun in hand.
Nothing ... the would-be killer was gone, fearful of being seen close to the
burning barn.
Tom Shanaghy gathered Carpenter's body in his arms and walked slowly away.
Behind him the barn exploded into flame, and he heard shouts and yells from
the town. The Carpenter home was but a hundred yards or so away, and he walked
toward it.
She was standing on the step, looking toward the fire, and she saw him [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]