Gunfire and Flame: A Scott Siegel Western Classic

By Scott Siegel

Matt Howard was a stranger in town. He killed Joshua Taren’s son to save the life of a young widow, and the town didn’t take too kindly to it. A mob nearly beat him to death, but Sharee Bonham – the girl he’d tried to protect – nursed him back to health. Trouble kept on coming, though, and Matt was a man who always met trouble head-on. Men would die in vast numbers before he was through, but still he kept fighting, with Sharee and her young son right at his side.
But no one could buck such overwhelming odds forever. But just when death seemed inevitable, two miracles happened along ... and both wore real fast guns!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Piccadilly
• Release date: Mar 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215424902

Book preview

Chapter One

HIS NAME WAS Matthew Howard and he didn’t much care if he lived or died. But walking his tired roan through unfamiliar country, he did the usual things a smart man will do to stay alive. He kept a careful eye on his backtrail, watched for Indian sign, and made sure not to ride the skyline.

Long about dusk, Matt found his way to an oft used trail and followed it toward what he hoped would be a small town, where he could have a hot meal and sleep in a real bed for a day or two before heading out again to continue his lonely wandering. Instead of a town or settlement though, he came upon a badly weathered wood frame home that looked as if it might have once been intended to be a ranch house. Despite the battered appearance of the place—loose and broken boards on the porch, a shattered window covered by paper, and a roof that looked like it probably leaked—there were five horses tethered out front, the smell of good cooking wafting from the dilapidated chimney, and loud, coarse laughter punctuating the otherwise solid stillness of the darkening night.

This can’t be a hide-out for men on the run, bein’ as it is on a travelled road, but it sure ain’t no place for a cafe neither, Matt mused as he sat atop his horse, wondering if he ought to ride on up, or play it safe and drift in some other direction. Finally, it was the smell of hot cornbread that helped him make up his mind. With a quietly muttered, What the hell, he slowly trotted a few yards out of the trees from where he’d been observing this odd situation and called, Hello, the house!

There was sudden silence inside the building. Then a gruff voice yelled back in challenge, Who’s out there?

Just passin’ through. You don’t know me.

Matt could hear a couple of men begin to laugh when another more drunken voice called out, So you’re a stranger around here ... come ahead—this is your lucky day.

Chapter Two

HE RODE ON up in the darkness to where the other horses were tethered. A tall, heavyset ranch hand with a long, angular face ambled out onto the porch to watch him. He had a half empty bottle of whiskey in one hand, and a rib bone that still had some beef on it in the other.

Looks like there’s plenty to eat, Matt said casually as he dismounted.

The tall, burly man with the bottle just grunted.

I’m gonna take care of my horse before I come on in. And then Matt smiled and added, Wanna give me a hand?

The big man took a long pull from the bottle. You ain’t funny, mister, he said finally, and if it was up to me, I’d say you ain’t welcome neither. Then he turned and walked back into the house.

A couple of minutes later Matt was surprised to see a little boy, carrying a brush, round a corner of the house and walk right up to the roan. Without looking up at Matt, the youngster said sullenly, You can go in.

Well thanks, boy, said Matt politely, but I’ll have to stay out here and give you a hand. I don’t think you can manage that saddle.

The boy looked up with fear in his eyes. You stayin’ long? he asked, his voice trembling.

Why no. Just want to brush this critter down all over. He’s been workin’ hard and needs it. Ought to give him a chance to roll too.

The boy’s eyes lost their terror, only to be replaced by that sullenness that Matt had earlier detected in his voice. Matt began to wonder what was troubling the boy, but then an old familiar feeling came over him, and he thought, Hell, everyone’s got problems. Let him handle it himself. He sure don’t need my Goddamn help. He scowled and then roughly grabbed the saddle and yanked it off his horse’s back.

Quietly the kid walked around to the roan’s other side and began brushing. Matt, feeling more and more surly, tossed the saddle down at the far end of the porch, then started brushing the top of the horse’s back where the kid would have had difficulty reaching. When he finished, he said to the boy, I’ve some oats in my saddlebags. Give him some. And give him some water too. Then let him loose. He’ll wander back on his own soon enough.

It was fully dark now as Matt turned toward the porch. The sounds inside were getting loud and ugly. He was, at best, only a fair hand with a side-gun, so it paid him to be ready. He checked the cylinder of his Navy Colt. As an extra precaution, he felt for the hunting knife on his left hip. Then Matt Howard stepped up toward the lighted door.

When he walked into the house, his eyes fell on a curious scene of five men sitting down along a row table finishing a huge dinner, with maybe as many as ten liquor bottles littering the tabletop, most of them empty. What was most curious, though, was that the dinner was being served by a woman. But not just any woman. She had a face and a body one didn’t often have a chance to see in the west, except for possibly in San Francisco, or when you were asleep dreaming.

Matt didn’t have much time to just linger and look. As soon as he walked in the door, the five men at the table had lowered their voices and turned to stare at him, sizing him up. What they saw was a man a bit over six feet tall, every inch of him muscle and bone. He had a weathered face so it was hard to guess how old he might be. The elements of sun and wind that had etched themselves into his face hadn’t so much aged him as given his features timelessness. He looked back at those men with a terrible, cold, trail-hardened calmness that made at least a couple of the cowhands shiver through their drunkenness.

It was only a few seconds, but it seemed like hours as they faced each other. And each second that passed in silence increased the tension and possibly the chance of violence for these men seemed strangely on edge. Yet Matt, even now, didn’t quite know what to make of all this.

Make room for him, the woman said suddenly. Barney, you and Gilson move over and let the stranger sit down.

The two men at the end of the table closest to where Matt was standing obediently slid their chairs to one side.

There’s a chair there up against the wall on your left. Pull it over to the table, the woman said to Matt.

"I take it you do want some food first?" she added roughly.

The men laughed.

Finally, Matt understood. He picked up the extra chair, brought it to the table and sat down. She carried over a plate heaped high with beefsteak, cooked medium rare, and that cornbread he had smelled outside across the open field.

I don’t supply the whiskey, she said as she placed the plate in front of him.

That’s okay, Matt answered politely. I’ll have some hot coffee if you got some.

Fine, she replied, and walked away.

Matt kept his eyes on her. She was, indeed, a pretty woman. Even close up. He noticed that her face and arms were tanned, so she spent at least part of her day outside, instead of on her back. And he noticed, too, that she was sweating freely from the heat of the stove and all her cooking, making the loose-fitting cotton blouse she wore stick to her perfectly shaped breasts, outlining her figure for all to see. And see they did. Her breasts gently swayed, rubbing against her damp shirtfront, as she glided toward Matt, carrying his cup of coffee.

It’s six dollars and sixty cents, mister. You better pay up now, she announced.

The food’s mighty good, Matt said lightly, but not worth that kind of money.

I ain’t playing no games with you, mister. I got things to do. Got to clean up here, put my son to sleep, and then take care of business. It’s six dollars and sixty cents for what you come here for.

Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t mean to rile you, Matt answered. I just meant to say I’d like to pay you for the good cookin’, rest awhile here with a few cups of coffee, and then head out when the moon gets a little higher in the sky. How much would I owe you for that?

She gave him a look that surprised him. He had expected her to be annoyed, maybe even angry, at learning he was not going to be a big paying customer. Instead, she seemed kind of relieved. He wondered, idly, when he had gotten all that ugly. She even smiled at him for the first time and said almost cheerfully, That’s one dollar and sixty cents for the meal. Help yourself to all the coffee you like.

Digging into his pants pocket, Matt came up with some silver and counted it out to cover the bill. The woman’s smile disappeared and was replaced by that same sullen expression Matt had seen on the little boy’s face outside. Evidently, she figured Matt was broke and that that was his reason for not staying for the later doings.

She scooped up his small pile of change and marched across the room. When she got to the door leading to the kitchen, she turned around abruptly and announced with an edge of steel to her voice, I’m putting my boy to bed now in the barn. You keep quiet for a while till he gets to sleep. I’ll start in about an hour with you, Archie, seeing as how you got here first, she said, looking at the huge bulk of the man Matt had first seen out on the porch holding a bottle of whiskey. He noticed that the bottle was now lying empty on its side near Archie’s plate.

After she left, Matt began to more carefully survey the five men who sat around him. He continued eating, but would occasionally glance up at one or another of the men to watch them in their anxious waiting for the woman’s return. They ignored him now, figuring him to be a no-account drifter. Truth to tell, that’s what he figured he was too. So they talked in front of him. And he listened.

She’s quite a lot of woman, she is, the man named Gilson said softly, a touch of reverence in his voice.

If you ask me, she’s too much woman for you, the bear of a man, Archie, bellowed.

We’re supposed to keep it down, said an older man of maybe forty or forty-five sitting across from Archie.

I’m sure you have no trouble at all keepin’ it down, Archie sneered back.

Leave old Mike alone, the man named Barney said. He’ll probably give Sharee the best ride of all of us.

Why thank you for those words of confidence, Mike said comically. I’ll sure try to do ’em justice.

Mike, asked Gilson, you ever have her before?

Mike smiled broadly and looked back at Gilson with a gleam in his eye. Son, he said, I sure have, and I can tell you every time I’m in that room with her, I wish to God I’d die. Can’t think of a better way to go.

The others laughed. All except one young, distracted looking fellow sitting on the far side of the table next to Archie Walker. Matt realized he hadn’t as yet heard so much as a single word come out of that man’s mouth.

Just then Barney said to the quiet young man, What about you, Cal? You ever have Sharee before?

None of ... none of your business, he stammered awkwardly. There was, indeed, something odd about this young man that Matt couldn’t quite get a handle on.

Come on, Cal, you can tell us. We won’t tell your pa, taunted Barney.

Sure, why should we tell your pa? Archie rasped. It’d just get him all ticked off that his goon son is stickin’ it to the same piece a pie that he’s been stickin’ it to.

Cal turned purple. He stood up in such a rush that his chair shot back into the table that had a matching porcelain water pitcher and basin on top of it. Both pieces came crashing down to the floor to lie there in broken ruin.

That ain’t true! You know it ain’t true, you lousy, dirty cow chaser. You take it back!

Archie gave a mean laugh. Take what back? he asked. That you’re a slow-witted goon, or that your righteous bastard storekeeper father cheats every chance he gets on that miserable lookin’ mother of yours?

It’s not so, Cal Taren cried out. Not so! My pa loves my ma and would never lay with this woman.

You’re gonna do it, ain’t you? Why wouldn’t your pa? said Barney, joining in on the cruel fun.

He just wouldn’t! He wouldn’t! Cal screamed back at them, wishing he were wearing a gun on his hip like the others. Then he started pounding his fists on the heavy oak table to either drive his feelings out of his body or hit something that wouldn’t hit him back, like Archie Walker or Barney would surely do.

In the midst of all this commotion, the woman named Sharee came running back to the house. She burst through the kitchen, into the parlor, where Matt and the others were sitting, and shouted angrily, What the hell is going on here? I can hear your racket clear out to the barn. And so can my boy. Now just ... Oh God! Who broke that? she demanded, pointing down at the shattered pieces of her porcelain pitcher and wash basin.

No one answered. No one had a chance to. Cal Taren, his eyes blood red and his addled brain pushed too far, grabbed the empty whiskey bottle lying on the table in front of Archie Walker and smashed it so that he was holding a jagged piece of glass in his hand. Then he turned half way around and pushed his body up against Sharee’s, forcing her to step back and back till he had her pressed up against the wall. He held the sharp edge of the broken bottle up high as if it were a knife he was going to plunge down into her eyes.

I want the truth from you, you tramp, he screamed at her. I want the truth, or I’ll cut your face to ribbons. And who’ll pay for your favors then? Huh? Now tell me! Tell me the truth!

I don’t know what you want, she gasped, terrified by the suddenness of it all.

You heard. You said you heard it out at the barn. You better tell me or I’ll slash your face up. By God, I mean it!

I heard yelling and a lot of noises. I couldn’t make it out, Cal, she said, regaining some of her composure. Just take it easy, will you? I’ll tell you anything you want to know. But first you got to tell me what it is you want to find out.

Matt Howard watched all this with a certain detachment. It wasn’t his problem. He didn’t know these folks or much care about them. Besides, if there was any helping to be done, any of the other four men were closer to Cal Taren than he was.

But things had long since gotten out of hand.