Dillinger - Jack Higgins [46]
She seemed slightly dazed and wiped the blood away mechanically. 'There's an old revolver in the top drawer of the dresser in my bedroom.'
He handed her the Colt. 'You know how to use this thing?'
Something clicked in her eyes and she came back to life again. 'Of course I do.'
'OK. Hang on here. I'll be back.'
Dillinger went up the stairs on the run, turned along the corridor and kicked open the door to her room. He found the revolver at once, an old Smith and Wesson .45. It was empty, but there was a box of cartridges. He loaded it quickly, then crossed to the door leading out to the balcony.
As he stepped out, three Apaches rode into the court-yard, one of them carrying a burning brand. Dillinger dropped to one knee, rested the barrel of the Smith and Wesson across the rail and aimed low. The heavy slug lifted the Apache from the saddle as he started to throw the brand towards the stables. His two companions flattened across their ponies' necks and rode for cover.
Dillinger went back inside, closed and barred the shutters in all the bedrooms and hurried downstairs. As he dropped to one knee beside Rose, she turned, her face pale. 'Ortiz is leading them. I just saw him ride past. He wasn't wearing his cassock. He was all Apache.' She shivered.
'Your friend Ortiz has become Diablo again.'
He peered over the sill. Most of the Mestizos had managed to reach the temporary safety of their homes and had barred the doors. Three or four lay in the street. An Apache was standing over one of them, his rifle butt ready to smash down. Dillinger shot him in the back.
Flames flickered over the dry woodwork of the stables opposite. An Apache galloped past and tossed a great bundle of burning brushwood onto the porch of the hotel.
'Oh no! Please, not our home,' Rose cried.
Flames ran like lightning across the bare boards, flaring up towards the windows so that Dillinger and Rose had to draw back.
More Apaches rode by, firing wildly. Dillinger pushed Rose down to the floor.
Chavasse crawled forward. 'We can't stay here.'
Flames licked in through the window, cracking the remaining glass and Rose got to her feet. 'We'll be safe on the roof. The rest of the hotel won't burn. The walls are made of stone.'
She led the way upstairs. As they passed along the corridor, there was a thunderous crash from below as the roof of the porch collapsed.
At the end of the corridor a wooden ladder in a storeroom gave access to the flat roof through a trapdoor. Chavasse went first and turned to help the others. There was another burst of firing from the street outside.
When Rose had gone up, Dillinger moved to follow. There was a sudden splintering crash outside in the corridor. As he ran to the door, the wooden shutters to the window opposite burst open and an Apache swung a leg over the sill. Dillinger shot him in the face and the man dropped his rifle, and disappeared backwards, screaming as he fell.
It was an old Winchester carbine and Dillinger picked it up, ran back into the storeroom and scrambled up the ladder. As he came out on the roof, Chavasse pulled the ladder up after him and closed the trap.
The roof was surrounded by a three-foot parapet. Dillinger tossed his revolver to Chavasse and moved across to the side fronting the street. A heavy pall of smoke drifted across the town as the stables and other buildings burned.
The Chevrolet was parked in the alley at the side of the stables opposite. An Indian turned his pony into the alley crowding in against the automobile. As he pulled an axe from his belt and raised it to smash the windshield, Dillinger raised the carbine and shot him out of the saddle. The now riderless pony whirled and galloped away.
The Apaches were now attacking several houses at the same time, directed by Ortiz, conspicuous in his scarlet shirt. Three of his