Snowed In(manxman)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

Turner slowly dropped his .45 to the floor, “You’ll be wanting to pull that knife away from his throat, Thompson.” 

Thompson snarled, “I don’t think you’re in any position to be threatening me, you bastard. You think you can come into this town and take away everything I have?” 

Turner’s nose was full of the scent of smoke from downstairs. Clearly his fun with dynamite had started a fire and was being fueled by all that whiskey. He had to figure a way out of here and he had to do it quickly but also ensure that Thompson didn’t slide the knife across Will’s throat. 

Turner calmly held up his hands, “You crossed a line yourself, Thompson. What gave you the inclination that you had any kind of right to ride onto my land and burn my place, kill my dog and take that man away from me?” 

“This man was mine first!” Thompson bellowed, his hold on the knife tightening. Will’s body flopped in his grasp. 

“It’s over, Thompson. The saloon is gone, the brothel is burning, your men are dead. Give me Will and I’ll spare your life.” 

It was a bold faced lie and Thompson saw it for what it was. He laughed humorlessly, “I am not naïve enough to believe that.” Turner shrugged, “Now take off all your weapons or I’ll kill him right here and now.” 

Turner nodded. He unhooked his gun belt slowly and dropped it to the floor. Next he untied his knife from his leg, the other was still lying beneath Timothy’s corpse. 

“Your boots too, you son of a bitch,” Thompson growled. Turner pulled off both his boots and Thompson sneered when he saw the boot knife, “You aren’t as smart as you think you are.” 

“Never claimed to be,” Turner replied. 

Thompson nodded toward the bed, “Now lay down there.” 

“Why?” 

The knife blade pierced Will’s skin and blood trickled down his neck, “Do it!” Thompson screamed. 

Turner’s blood boiled and he couldn’t wait to kill this man. Slowly Turner went to the bed and laid down upon the sheets that were wet with Will’s blood, “Don’t move,” Thompson ordered. 

He dropped Will to the floor, bending to lay him almost gently upon the floorboards. Turner used that second of distraction and grabbed the derringer that had been holstered against his shin. He palmed the gun in his big hand and was laying just as Thompson had ordered when the man returned his attention to him. 

Thompson held the knife out, “I’m going to tie you up now. Don’t try anything, Turner, because if you do I’ll spur him in the throat.” 

Turner nodded. That explained the careful way that Thompson had positioned Will. He’d done so, not out of concern, but to ensure that he still had something sharp pointed at his neck.