Big Jim

Inching the shutters aside with the barrel of his revolver, Big Jim Dooling eyed the outlaws that peeped around the corners of the saloon across the dusty road.
'Damn varmints," he muttered around the chewed stub of his cigar. Picking one of the varmints out at random he squeezed off one of his six remaining bullets. He felt little Jessie start at the roar of the gun, so he held her tight.
Murmuring distracted words of comfort to Jessie he noticed the feet of a fallen outlaw being dragged behind a wall, his steel capped boots leaving two lines in the dirt.
One down, he thought.
Jessie was weeping quietly. "Don't worry Jessie, I won't let them hurt you. You'll be fine. I'll get you out of here."
Jessie wiped the tears and the trickle of blood from her cheek. At seven years old she had seen too much of life already.
"Come outside and fight Jim!" The enhanced voice crackled from outside. "We'll take the girl from you either way!"
"You hear that Jessie? They want to take you. I won't have it I tell you!" The last he yelled out of the window.
As he did so, he noticed the outlaws gathering and moving towards the house, shields raised in front.
"No! Not yet, I need more time."
He loosed two more or his precious rounds at the approaching unit, both bouncing impotently aside after striking reinforced helmets.
"No!". Lifting Jessie to the bed he tucked her into the covers.
"Stay here sweetie, I'll be back in a minute."
Taking the creaky stairs two at a time he raced to the front door, reaching it just as it exploded inwards, a cacophony of shouts and orders deafening him. Panicking he tried to rattle off the last three rounds into the lead man.
Two shots remained in the chamber as Big Jim Dooling fell, his centre mass riddled with holes.

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"Movement, white side, level one, second in." PC Holt said into his radio. A garbled acknowledgement was returned. Holt edged out a little further from his vantage point behind the off licence, trying to see the curtains twitch again.
As he did so, a white light of pain lashed across his vision and a crushing pain in his chest took his breath away. He has a sensation of movement, but if it was upwards or sideways he couldn't tell. All he could see was images of his two boys snuggled up with his wife. His feet dragged across the tarmac.

Sergeant Preen raised the loudhailer to his lips. "James, come outside and give yourself up. We are only concerned for the girl. Let us take her back to her mother." His voice crackled but it was clear enough. There was no response.
"Right, form up. We need to end this now, no more officers are to get shot. Three at the front, ballistic shields and helmets. Now!"
His team scrambled to obey, one staying behind to care for Holt, who was fading in and out of consciousness, his vest laying to one side, cracked beyond repair.
Six officers doubled timed it to the front of the house. Something whip-cracked off of Preen's helmet like a scorpion sting.
Shaking off the blurred vision this caused he took the enforcer from a colleague and readied himself to strike the thick wooden door.
With one blow the door flew inwards. James Dooling was flying down the stairs, raising his long barrelled pistol.
"Armed Police, freeze!" Sergeant Preen shouted as he stepped back to make sure he was covered by the ballistic shield which, as he crouched behind it, snapped back out of the lead man's hand.
Three shots from three separate weapons found the centre mass of the target, the largest area presented.
Kicking the gun away Sergeant Preen checked the pulse of the deranged kidnapper.
"Still alive, get an ambulance now."
He bounded up the stairs and turned into the bedroom. Seeing the terrified girl tied to the bed, white as a porcelain doll. He knelt beside her and untied the rope.
"Jessica? I'm Matthew. Your mummy is outside. She'd love to see you."

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Big Jim Dooling lay in a pool of blood, surrounded by the outlaws. Why were they trying to keep him alive? Why didn't they just finish him off?
Breath was coming harder now. They had moved him outside, the noon day sun drying the sweat from his face.
"Don't hurt little Jessie," he sighed, "she ain't done no wrong."