The Six Messiahs - Mark Frost [189]
"This is it!" shouted Innes, running forward, opening the gate while Presto covered him.
"Leave the horses here," said Doyle, climbing down.
"But they've already gone on," said Lionel, pointing to Main Street where Jack and Walks Alone had ridden from view.
"We'll need a way back out," said Doyle, ending the discussion. "Tie them here."
They secured the horses to the gate and armed themselves.
"Lionel," said Doyle, "why don't you wait for us here as well...."
"No, goddammit," said Lionel, cocking his Winchester as he'd seen the others do. "Stop treating me as if I'm some sort of inconvenience. It's my father who's in here somewhere, and I've a better right than anyone to be—"
A bullet whistled, knocking off his hat; Innes yanked Lionel to the ground, and the four scrambled to cover behind the guardhouse as another shot kicked off the gate.
"I do apologize," said Doyle to Lionel, who was nervously fingering the hole in his hat.
Halfway down Main Street, Jack and Walks Alone stopped in front of a large adobe house; the fire burning too intensely to risk taking the horses in any farther. They grabbed their rifles, turned the horses around, and spanked them back in the direction of the gate.
At the far end of the street through a thick haze of smoke and dust, they could see a column of people in white shirts moving toward the black church, where a large crowd moved slowly and steadily through its doors.
"There," said Jack, pointing toward the church. "That's where we're supposed to go, isn't it?"
Walks Alone nodded. They moved.
A patrol of white shirts came out of an alley; Jack calmly pulled his pistol and fired four times. As they stepped over the bodies, another figure stumbled toward them out of the darkness. Walks Alone raised the shotgun in her hand to fire, but Jack pushed the barrel aside.
A woman. Wearing a white low-cut gown with an Empire waist, a paste tiara fastened to her thick black hair. Face blackened with soot, dress shredded, arms raised in desperation.
"Help me, please," she said.
Jack stared at her. "Oh, my God."
The woman's eyes hit Jack and grew wide. "Oh, my God."
Walks Alone saw recognition fighting Jack's eyes as well. He moved right to the woman and she fell into his arms, holding on for dear life.
"It's you. It's really you, it's really you." Eileen opened her eyes, saw the Indian woman covered with blood over Jack's shoulder, and gasped.
"You're all right?" asked Jack.
She nodded, tears falling onto his shoulder.
"Where's Frank?" she asked, irrationally deciding they all must know each other.
"Who's Frank?" he asked.
"He went to look for Jacob."
"Jacob is here?" said Walks Alone.
"You know Jacob?" asked Eileen.
"He is here, then," said Jack.
"Yes, he's with your brother," said Eileen. "He killed Bendigo."
"Jacob did?" asked Jack.
"No; your brother." "So my brother's here."
"Yes."
"Who's Bendigo?" asked Walks Alone, growing more confused.
"Who's she?" asked Eileen.
"A friend. Where's Jacob now?"
"I don't know; we came in with the Japanese man...."
"Japanese man?" asked Walks Alone.
"This Japanese man?" asked Jack, pulling out the flier.
"That's him," said Eileen.
"Where is he?" asked Jack.
"I don't know; maybe with Frank."
"Who's Frank?" asked Walks Alone.
"Wait," said Jack, to both of them. "Slow down. Back up."
Jack pulled them into the shadows of the alley; Eileen took a deep breath and tried her best to explain.
At the guardhouse, shots peppered the logs around the four men. Their return fire had failed to flush out the sniper; Doyle looked through his spyglass and spotted a muzzle flash in the darkness of a shack to the northeast, a hundred yards away across open sand.
"We can't stay here," said Doyle.
"I'll have a go," said Presto.
The men looked at each other.
"Bit of the old tiger hunt," he said blithely. "Nothing to it."
"You're one of the dreamers," said Doyle. "You've some part to play in all this. Can't risk losing you off the board."