The Killing Blow

Table of Contents

 

 

Once the bear caught sight of Clint and Ordell, it thundered toward them more powerfully than ever.

“Just stay where you are,” Ordell said under his breath as the ground beneath him shook with the approaching bear's steps.

Clint leaned against the tree and watched the bear draw closer.

Ordell let out a slow breath and squeezed his trigger. His rifle let out a single blast, which rolled through the air like a clap of thunder. The barrel jumped up, kicking Ordell on the shoulder as black smoke poured from one end.

The bear kept running toward the tree as Ordell slowly lowered his rifle. He didn't even bother going through the motions of reloading the weapon since he and Clint would both be killed three times over before he was halfway done.

Clint leaned back and gritted his teeth. At that moment, he saw the cold emptiness in the bear's eyes . . .

Clint Adams was a legend among lawmen, outlaws, and ladies. They called him . . . the Gunsmith.

 
LONGARM by Tabor Evans

The popular long-running series about Deputy U.S. Marshal Long—his life, his loves, his fight for justice.

 
SLOCUM by Jake Logan

Today's longest-running action Western. John Slocum rides a deadly trail of hot blood and cold steel.

 
BUSHWHACKERS by B. J. Lanagan

An action-packed series by the creators of Longarm! The rousing adventures of the most brutal gang of cutthroats ever assembled—Quantrill's Raiders.

 
DIAMONDBACK by Guy Brewer

Dex Yancey is Diamondback, a Southern gentleman turned con man when his brother cheats him out of the family fortune. Ladies love him. Gamblers hate him. But nobody pulls one over on Dex . . .

 
WILDGUN by Jack Hanson

The blazing adventures of mountain man Will Barlow—from the creators of Longarm!

 
TEXAS TRACKER by Tom Calhoun

Meet J.T. Law: the most relentless—and dangerous—man-hunter in all Texas. Where sheriffs and posses fail, he's the best man to bring in the most vicious outlaws—for a price.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

 
THE KILLING BLOW

 
A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author

 
PRINTING HISTORY
Jove edition / January 2007

 
Copyright © 2007 by Robert J. Randisi.

 
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eISBN : 978-0-515-14244-0

 
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Clint brought the rifle up to his shoulder and sighted along the top of the barrel. Although his heart was pounding in his chest so hard that it made his eyes waver a bit, he did his best to push through that and stay focused on the task at hand.

There wasn't any room to make a mistake. Even a small one. When he pulled his trigger, he needed to do it at the right time and with just the right amount of pressure. Otherwise, he could make a mistake. Considering the fact that there was a black bear at the other end of his barrel, Clint knew he couldn't afford to make many mistakes.

Even waiting for half a second too long might be enough to get his throat opened and every limb torn from his body.

Clint pulled his trigger and felt the rifle kick against his shoulder.

The bear howled angrily and shuddered as the hot lead thumped into his chest. Although he staggered for a moment, the bear recovered as quickly as if he'd just been stung by a bee and wheeled around to get a look at where that bee had come from.

“Damn,” Clint muttered under his breath as he levered in another round.

He'd seen more than his share of tense moments, many of which had forced him to look straight down the wrong end of a gun barrel. None of those moments, however, sent a chill under Clint's skin as when he saw that bear look straight at him and let out a hungry roar.

As much as he tried to keep his movements steady, Clint couldn't help but take his next shot in a hurry. The bear had started moving toward him, picking up speed like a boulder rolling down the side of a mountain, moving unbelievably fast for something that size.

It seemed to take forever for the rifle's lever to complete its short set of movements. When Clint heard the mechanism click into place, he aimed from the hip and pulled the rifle's trigger again.

The bear had just launched the front half of its body into the air after slamming its front paws against the packed earth. While still moving forward like a derailed train, it reared halfway up and splayed out its forepaws to show Clint the huge claws that were about to rip him into pieces.

With his second shot still ringing in his ears, Clint worked the lever and fired again. He could barely hear the shot, but he could see a patch of the bear's fur twitch as hot lead thumped into a wall of solid muscle.

Clint's reflexes were barely sharp enough to cut through his instinctual panic and get his entire body moving to one side. He pushed off with both legs, not caring where he was going or how gracefully he could get there. All he wanted to do was get away from those incoming claws before he felt them up close and personally.

Although Clint wasn't able to land on his legs or outstretched arms, he managed to avoid those claws. The bear's paws slammed in quick succession against the ground, sending tremors through the dirt right beneath Clint's body.

Suddenly, a scream pierced the air.

For a moment, Clint wasn't even aware of the noise since the blood was coursing so powerfully through his head. The bear heard it, which was enough to divert its attention just long enough for Clint to roll another few yards away from the angry beast.

When he righted himself, Clint took a quick breath and looked in the direction of those screams. The woman was still in the same spot she'd been when Clint had first spotted her: huddled against an overturned wagon with her arms wrapped around a small child. Her dress was torn off one shoulder and her face was smeared with dirt as well as a bit of blood. The child appeared to be a boy, but Clint couldn't be certain since the little one's face was buried in the woman's arms.

It had only been a few minutes since Clint had arrived at the clearing where the wagon had overturned, but it seemed like years ago. Of course, with the huge black bear coming at him like a monster from a bad dream, a man tended to savor every second as if it were his last.

“Get away from there!” Clint shouted.

The sound of the woman's desperate breathing could be heard even over the bear's snarls and the rush of blood through Clint's ears. She looked back and forth between Clint and the bear, only to stay where she was and clutch her child even tighter.

“I can't . . .” she gasped. “I can't move.”

“Think about that child and get moving,” Clint shouted. “I can help, but not if you're too scared to move.”

“I can't move,” she repeated. “The wagon's pinning me down.”

The bear was on all fours, swaying its head back and forth to look at the people around him. Although the talking seemed to be distracting it for the moment, the animal's patience was obviously wearing thin.

Clint got back to his feet and took a moment to replace the spent ammunition in his rifle. Patting his side quickly was enough to tell him that his modified Colt was still right where it should be. Craning his neck to get a better look at the woman, Clint saw the spot where the frame of the wagon was leaning down on top of her leg.

As if picking up on the scent of the woman's fear, the bear turned more in her direction and lowered its head while stalking forward. Each step made a heavy crunching sound as branches and rocks were ground beneath its weight. Lines of saliva started dripping from the corners of its mouth as rumbling breaths issued from within its massive frame.

At that moment, as if she were reading the worst fears going through Clint's mind, the woman started kicking and batting at the wagon in a flurry of motion. Even though he was no expert on animals, Clint figured that was the worst possible thing she could have done.

He was right.

The bear let out an aggressive snarl and reared up in response to the movement it saw. While it was still on its hind legs and pawing at the sky, another stinging pain lanced through its torso.