The Daughter - C.B. Cooper (red novels txt) 📗

followed the question.
"How about you, Angel? You got any ideas?"
When there was no answer, Sam turned, looking at the people around the room. Angel was nowhere to be seen.
"Did anybody see Angel?"
All he got for an answer was a bunch of blank looks.
Down below in the street, gunshots blasted in the night, echoing through town.
Whipping his face back to the glass, Sharp seen a figure marching across the street towards The Grand.
"Gracie! Angel! Shit!"
Sharp jumped up from the floor and took off towards the door, shoving men out of his way.
"The fats in the fire now, Boys. Let git ta cookin'!" Zeb hollered as he followed Sam.
Sharp took the stairs two at a time, and headed for the front door. Beyond them, out in the street, gunfire sounded at a rapid pace.

Coulter followed on his bosses tail as the man ran upstairs. Once they were in Jarvis's room, Coulter slammed the door as Jarvis dove for cover on the far side of his bed.
Studying the layout of the room and its contents, Coulter had an idea.
"Hey boss, come out here for a second."
Jarvis's wide eyes peeked over the top of the bed.
"I think I got an idea that just might work."
"What is it?"
Pointing to a large trunk against the wall, Coulter said, "I think you should hide in your traveling trunk, and I'll sneak down to Adams's old room. I can watch the hallway, and if she gets by our men, I'll cut her down before she even gets close to your door."
"What makes you think she'll even look in here?"
"Because she already knows the layout up here. I'm sure that once she see's your not downstairs, she'll head for your room."
Jarvis slowly stood, clutching his quilt in front of him, "Your sure you can get her."
"Yep, all I gotta do is hide in his room and watch out the keyhole. I'll wait for her to pass, then I'll step out and take her down."
Jarvis mulled the plan over while he eyed the old dome-topped trunk. "Okay. That’s as good a plan as any, I guess."
They quickly emptied the contents of the trunk, throwing everything into the top of the armoire. The bottom, however, was lined with thick bars of gold that they left inside. Climbing over the edge, Jarvis stood in the trunk.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a brass key. "Just in case, lock the trunk after I'm in. That way if she makes it this far, she'll check the room and see that I'm not here, and if she tries to lift the lid it'll be locked, so she'll assume I'm not in here."
Coulter looked skeptical, "I don’t know…"
Jarvis shoved the key at him, "Just do it!"
Below their feet, inside the hotel, came the sound of gunfire and men screaming.
"Alright, get in there."
Jarvis folded himself into the trunk and Coulter closed the rounded lid, locking it and putting the key in his pocket. Turning, he ran for the door.

Sharp pushed through the saloon doors, running out onto the boardwalk. Angel was still walking towards The Grand. She had a gun in each hand and was trading fire with Jarvis's men. Bullets kicked up dirt all around her.
Sharp, followed by Zeb and the Comanche, ran down to join her.
Three men lay dead on boardwalk in front of the hotel, another lay in the street, his head bent at a strange angle after his fall from the rooftop.
Angel seemed unconcerned with all of the bullets flying around her. She had her eye on the front door of The Grand and was steadily making her way to it. Up on the rooftop, another man screamed as he took an arrow in the gut.
Down at the end of the street, the old oak tree stood alone, fully engulfed in flames that cast an eery orange glow over the whole town.
Sharp was concentrating on the alleyway to the left of the building, firing off shots as fast as he could to keep the men there at bay. Zeb fired into the alley at the right, while the Comanche shot volleys of arrows up onto the roof.
As Angel mounted the stairs, she motioned for everyone to stay back.
She stood in the middle of the boardwalk, staring at the front door as she slipped her pistols back into the holsters on her hips.
Zeb and Sharp exchanged a quick nervous glance, and when they looked back, she was drawing out the two .45's from the small of her back, cocking and firing them both at the same time.
The bullets hit two of Jarvis's men as they each rounded separate corners of the hotel, blowing the men backwards like rag dolls, their bodies hitting the walls of the buildings next to the hotel and bouncing off.
Swinging her arms in front of her, she cocked and fired again, shooting at the front door. Stepping forward, she kicked the door open as she fired again, hitting two more men, waiting just inside of the doorway.
As she walked into The Grand, Sam and Zeb ran up the steps to join her.
Once inside, she strode for the stairs that lead to the second story, her back straight, determined. Behind her, Sharp and Zeb fired at more gunhands as they poured out from the backroom.

Coulter waited behind the door to Adams' old room, his mouth dry, he licked his lips.
Down below, shots continued to echo through the building.
With his eye pressed to the keyhole, he watched as a dark figure passed by the door.
He listened to her slow, steady footsteps as they faded down the hall. Then, counting to ten, he quietly opened the door and stepped out, his guns ready to fire.
But the hallway was empty.
Cursing under his breath, he tipped toed towards Jarvis's room. He could see from where he was, that the door already stood open. She was in there.
Sliding along the far wall, he edged his way towards the door, expecting at any moment for her to come walking out after she discovered Jarvis wasn’t there.
He passed first one door, and then another, not taking his eyes off of Jarvis's for a second.
Coulter stopped as the fine hair on the back of his neck rose. A low squeek sounded behind him as one of the doors slowly swung open. Turning, he expected to see the woman jump out to take him by surprise, using his own trick against him, but all was quiet.
Slipping back down to the open doorway, he peeked inside. The room was empty. Letting out a quiet stream of air he had been holding, he turned back around, and came face to face with pure evil.
She smiled briefly, then plunged the bowie knife in her hand into his stomach, clear up to the hilt, lifting him completely off of his feet, like he weighed no more than a child. Wide eyed, he stared her as he reflexively fired off a shot, the bullet plowing into the floorboards a few feet away. Then she let go of the knife, dropping him to the floor, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
Turning, she walked down the hall and into Jarvis's room.

George Jarvis hunkered down in his trunk, his heart beating wildly as he tried to control his breathing. When he heard the slow, heavy footsteps walk across his bedroom floor, he covered his mouth with a sweaty hand. Moving his head to the left, he looked through the keyhole of the trunk.
She stood just a few feet away, staring right at the trunk.
Jarvis bit down on his lower lip to keep from crying out.
The woman had a murderous look on her face, "I know your in there, Jarvis."
He pulled his head away from the keyhole, and squeezed his eyes shut.
"I'm disappointed," he heard her say. "I expected you to put up more of a fight."
He heard her sigh, "But I guess this will have to do."
He listened to her as she walked across the room toward his bed, then make her way back. He couldn’t help himself, he looked through the keyhole again and froze, his blood turning cold. She was standing in the same spot again, only this time— she was holding his kerosene lamp.
Down below them, all hell was breaking loose. The sound of gunfire and men shouting or screaming, echoed inside the walls of The Grand.
Slowly unscrewing the top of the lamp, she told him, "Around here, Jarvis, I'm the judge, jury and executioner. You've been tried for crimes against humanity, and you were found guilty. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Inside the trunk, Jarvis squeezed his eyes shut again, rocking back and fourth.
"No?" she asked. "Then I hereby sentence you to death."
"No!" he cried out, unable to remain quiet, "I never killed your pa, it was Russ Conner's and his men!"
"True," he heard her say, "But you’re the one that hired them to kill Ben Walker and his daughter. Your men, under your orders, took turns raping that girl right in front of her father and then shot her in the head before they hung him. The blood of the innocent stains your hands, the same as it did theirs."
Terror stuck, he was confused, "So, your not Ben's daughter?"
He heard her laugh, "No, I'm not his daughter."
"Then who are you! And why are you doing this!" he cried.
"Don’t you know? I'm a child of God— and the devils Daughter."
Jarvis cried out again as he heard her begin to pour the oil out of the lamp, sprinkling the liquid out onto the floor around the trunk.
"Those who choose to live by the fire, die by the fire."
Jarvis opened his mouth, screaming, "Let me out of here!" as he began trying to fight his way out of the box. It was useless, the trunk was to sturdy. "Listen! This trunk is full of gold, if you let me out, its all yours! I swear it! You'll be rich!"
Angel squatted down and spoke quietly into the keyhole, her voice filling the inside of the trunk like she was right in there with him. "I don’t want your gold, Jarvis. I want your soul."
"Noooo!" he screamed.
"Actually, they want your soul. They're waiting for it."
A new sound filled the trunk. It sounded like a howling wind, accompanied by a thousand angry voices, whispering all at once.
"Look, Jarvis. Get a peek at what's waiting for you on the other side."
There was a giant whoosh, as she lit the match and threw it on the floor, igniting the kerosene.
Looking out, he screamed…
All around the trunk, there was a circle of fire, and in the flames there were twisted, evil faces. Demons, leering at him.
"Let me out of here!" he screamed. "Let me the fuck out!"
"Have fun in hell, Jarvis. I'm sure you'll fit right in."
"Fuck you, you fucking bitch!" he screamed as he frantically beat the inside of the trunk, trying to break out.
Angel turned and walked out the door, relishing his screams of terror behind her.
Out in the hall she stepped over the still body of Tom Coulter, and walked toward the stairs.
Sam, who'd just ran up the stairs, met her half way.
He stopped, catching his breath for a moment. Looking beyond her, he watched the smoke rolling out from the doorway at the end of the hallway. From inside the room came a man's high-pitched, frantic screams.
"We took care of all the men downstairs." Nodding, he asked, "Is