The Half-Breed Gunslinger

by Bret Lee Hart

  Lilith climbed out of bed and walked over to him, putting her hands on his shoulders.

  Hunter followed her with his eyes and his heart. Running from a fight had never, ever, entered his mind anytime in his whole life. But he truly loved this woman, and would do anything to protect her. She was so beautiful, standing there naked before him.

  "Hunter James, I will do whatever you say, and go wherever you go, but Richard Montgomery will follow us to the ends of the earth. He is a powerful and vindictive man."

  "What are you saying, Lilith?"

  "I'm saying, you're going to have to kill him, or we will never have any peace."

  "You want me to kill your father?"

  "Please sit, my love. We have to talk."

  Hunter put his butt on the cold wooden chair and listened to Lilith tell her story. The story of her kidnapping and the murder of her real father, a man named John Bailer.

  * * * * *

  Many years back, Richard Montgomery killed Mr. Bailer; he pulled the trigger himself for refusing to sell out his gold claim. Lilith and her father had lived in a small miner's cabin on a claim legally bought in Sacramento. After the death of her mother to smallpox, John sold their farm, and bought the land to pan for gold. The land was covered with mountains, and fresh water springs, and Richard Montgomery would not be satisfied until he owned it all. The tin pans that would not sell were run off or murdered, and her father was the last of the hold outs. This led to his demise.

  After the smoke cleared, there stood a dirty-faced, beautiful, thirteen-year-old girl with whom Montgomery immediately fell in love. He took Lilith to be his own. She did not elaborate further. The rest was obvious.

  Hunter's expression never changed, but inside, his anger grew.

  "Well, it's settled then," Hunter said as he began dressing. "I'm gonna' kill this man, and as many of his men as I have to."

  Lilith had begun to dress as well, not knowing where they were going or what they were doing, but instinctively knowing this half-breed gunslinger would protect her to the death.

  Hunter and Lilith saddled their horses and emptied the cabin of its food and supplies, loading the packhorse before heading south toward town. They needed to warn Matt of the situation for the town of Myakka was about to get bloody; and there was the safety of the boy to consider. Zeke and Matt were the only ones in that place Hunter cared about. As far as he was concerned, all the rest could go to hell. He did hope, however, that the doc and his family's home was far enough on the outskirts of Myakka City to keep them safe and away from the line of fire.

  They avoided the main roads, traveling on backwoods trails and through untraveled, swampy marshes 'til they arrived behind Matt's Saloon. Hunter dismounted, slid out a Colt, and cocked the hammer back, holding the gun straight up by his head. He slowly opened the back door to the saloon, peering in. With the creak of the door, Matt turned and saw Hunter. He immediately grabbed the trash pail and darted out the back, quickly easing the gunslinger outside closing the door behind them.

  "What the hell you doin' here, son? There's three of Montgomery's men in there right now lookin' for ya, and the little lady here. They're the ones Montgomery left behind to watch her, and they ain't none too happy you two went missin'."

  "Only three?" replied Hunter.

  "They're the only ones in there; everyone else slowly trickled out when they showed. These men are paid killers, Hunter, I have no doubt."

  "Matt, I need a place close by where I can hide Lilith."

  "Don't I have a say in this?" Lilith demanded, putting her hand on the stock of her Spencer rifle. "This isn't just for looks, I can shoot."

  Matt and Hunter looked from her, then to each other. Matt spoke, "We need to git the horses in the barn and you two can hole up in Zeke's loft upstairs. From them upper doors, you can see down the street and the front of the saloon; A good advantage for anyone with a rifle."

  "Where's the boy stay, Matt?"

  "He done stayed in the barn ever since he showed up in town a few years back. He was dirt from head to toe, eatin' throw outs. He ain't a charity case though, he works for it."

  "What happened to his parents?" asked Lilith.

  Matt shrugged his shoulders. "Don't rightly know. I ain't never asked, and he ain't never told."

  "Is he there now?" asked Hunter.

  "He should be up in the loft. I sent him there when those three shooters showed up."

  "Good," said Hunter. "We'll hide the horses in the barn and I'll get Lilith and the boy hunkered down in the upstairs. Matt, you go in like nothin's goin' on. Keep their glasses full of that watered down rotgut you call whiskey, until I get there. An' lock that back door behind ya."

  "Right," Matt said with a furrowed brow. He mumbled to himself all the way to the door, "My whiskey is some a' the least watered down in these here parts, no need for insults at a time like this."

  Hunter and Lilith led the horses from the back of the saloon and into the barn, closing themselves in behind the big, hinged doors. Hunter had begun the checking of his weapons when Zeke came running down the stairs right into Lilith's arms with a big hug.

  "Hello, my little man."

  "Oh, Miss Lily, it's good to see you! I was so worried!"

  Hunter paused, then put his guns away, satisfied they were ready to do their work.

  "You two know each other?" he asked, looking mostly toward the boy.

  Lilith spoke up, "I've been secretly trying to take care of this boy since the first time I came to these parts two summers ago. I wished to take him back north with me, but father... Richard, said he wouldn't have someone else's bastard living under his roof."

  Hunter looked from Lilith to Zeke, his little arms still clutching her waist.

  "So what was all that business 'bout 'let me see what I can find out, sir', when you knew all about her, huh, boy?" Hunter asked, clearly irritated.

  Zeke hugged Lilith a little tighter, speaking in a low voice, "Well, I figured there would be more coins in it for me if I fed you information a little at a time.

  Hunter took a step towards them. "Why you little..!"

  "Okay, you two," Lilith broke in, "don't we have more important things to deal with right now?"

  "You're right," said Hunter, while sneering a little at the boy, "I'll deal with you later. Right now, I want you two to go up into that loft, with the rifle. Keep an eye down the road for anyone comin'. Shoot to kill, cause they'll be doin' the same, got it?"

  Lilith gently broke free from the boy's grasp and walked over to Hunter, giving him a tight hug before whispering in his ear, "You be careful, Mr. James Dolin. Don't make me a widow before I've wed." She turned, grabbed the boy by the hand, and pulled her rifle off her horse. They quickly headed up the stairs to the loft.

  Hunter stood there for a moment, thinking, Did she say wed? What the hell! He quickly put this out of his mind, heading anxiety off at the pass. For it was time to do what he did best, and he had a plan that put a smile on his face as he slipped out of the barn and disappeared into the woods.

  * * * * *

  The three gunmen were still in the saloon. They were drinking and discussing the fact that the half-breed coward wasn't going to show up around here, and was probably halfway to North Carolina by now. Matt kept the whiskey flowing, saying little, and just waiting for the 'you-know-what' to hit the barn door. Up in the loft, Lilith and Zeke were waiting patiently, watching the streets of Myakka.

  "Where is he, Lily?" asked Zeke. "He's been gone a while."

  "I don't have the slightest, little man. I imagine Matt's wondering the same thing. He better… Wait, what's that at the edge of the woods?"

  Hunter came out of the brush at a fast walk, crossing the road and heading straight for the front steps of the Saloon, holding a rattlesnake in each hand.

  Zeke spotted the snakes from the loft and gasped, "Holy shit! Those are diamond backs, five-footers."

  Lilith looked at the boy, ready to reprimand him for bad language,
and then she decided against it. What did it matter in this time and place?

  She quickly looked back to the street just in time to see her man with two rattlesnakes in a chokehold, a head protruding out the top of each of his clenched fists. They were clearly agitated and squirming around. With one underhand motion, he slung the diamond backs forward. They hit the sandy wood porch and slid under the saloon doors, disappearing out of sight into Matt's place. Hunter took a few steps back, stood at the ready with each hand on the butt of his guns, and waited.

  There were sounds of screams, breaking furniture, broken glass, and gunfire coming from inside the saloon. One of the gunmen came out through the swinging doors, pistol in one hand, and holding his snake-bit shin with the other. He stopped at the top of the steps and just stared into Hunter's eyes with a look of anger and questioning confusion.

  "Go for it, you're gonna die anyway," announced the gunslinger. "I can see that leg swellin' from here."

  With an angry growl, the man raised his gun to fire. Hunter pulled his .44 and put two holes in the man's chest, sending the slower man's bullet into the ground, six inches from Hunter's boot. The snake-bit cowboy fell face first into the dusty street, dead. The half-breed gunslinger spun his gun into the holster with lightning speed, and got back into his stance, resting the palms of his hands on each butt of his Colts.

  "You son-of-a-bitch," came a voice from inside. "I'm gonna' kill you!"

  A moment later, the doors swung open and the other two men came out firing. Hunter pulled his right-handed colt, with his left palm slamming on the hammer in a downward motion. He emptied the four slugs remaining in the six-shooter, every bullet hitting home, two bullets for one man, two bullets for the other, a done deal.

  Hunter methodically, in a cloud of smoke, reloaded his gun while the dead men spewed pools of blood onto the front porch of the saloon.

  Matt walked out through the swinging doors with his shotgun in hand. He nudged one of the bodies with his boot, checking for dead.

  Hunter was still in his stance, taking the time to look down the street and behind him. He glanced up at the old bartender, feeling it was safe to let down his guard.

  "Nice to see you made it. A little late, ain't ya?" announced the gunslinger.

  "Hell, son... I been pumpin' them there boys with whiskey all mornin'. That ten year old lad in the barn there could a took um out with a slingshot, drunk as they was," the old man replied as he nudged the other body, also checking for dead.

  Hunter smiled a little at Matt's banter, and then spoke with matter of fact, "How much time we got?"

  "According to Mr. Snake-bit over there, they should be here tomorrow, noon or later."

  "That gives us some time; how many?" asked Hunter.

  "What I gathered from um, six, maybe ten – don't know fer sure."

  "We gotta' get rid of them bodies, Matt. It's warmer today; don't want them to start rottin'."

  "I'll fetch Jimmy and the wagon and have him take them to the doc's place at the edge of town. He's got a morgue in the back out there. And if he don't want um, there's plenty of swampy gator pits here'bouts. You, Lilith, and Zeke need to get up in that loft and come up with some kinda' plan, 'cause I ain't heard one – and get some rest. I'll bring you some food and whiskey in a bit."

  Hunter smiled at his old friend, "Thanks for your help, Matt, and you watch yourself, if they think you're helpin' us…"

  Matt nodded his head. "I got you, son, but don't you go worryin' bout me. You just worry 'bout your woman and that there youngun. Now git."

  Hunter entered the barn, taking the stairs to the loft two at a time 'til he reached the top. He was greeted with hugs from both Lilith and Zeke. Lilith had tears of relief in her eyes while the boy went on about how Hunter was the fastest draw in the south, or anywhere in the west for that matter, and when he grew up he would be just as fast.

  Hunter could not stop the small grin from growing on his face. He'd never had a family. He'd never loved anyone before. This was a good feeling for him, but it scared him nonetheless. He had always been able to take care of himself, but now he had others to worry about. The gunslinger had been a loner all his life, now that seemed to have changed overnight.

  Hunter's father had been long gone before he was born which left the tribe to raise him but never as one of them. He was treated like the bastard that he was. He was constantly teased and forced to defend himself from the older Indian boys. One night after a severe beating, he stole a bow, arrows, and a hunting knife, along with food and water. He went deep into the swamps moving north, thinking of his father. Maybe the white man would be more accepting of him, he did not know. Hunter was in his tenth year, free at last and on his own. That seemed so long ago. He never did find his father, and soon gave up searching, but he did become a man, and learned the white man's ways, mastering the white man's gun. Hunter's tracking skills were self-taught and forced upon him early. It is amazing how quickly you learn to track animals when you are starving.

  In his early teens, he ran across a small band of Union soldiers lost in the swamps. They were five men, hungry, and scarred up, their necks and face's red and puffy with mosquito bites. The young half-breed saved their lives. He made natural medicine from marsh plants to heal their insect wounds, avoiding infection. He killed a three hundred pound hog with two arrows through its side, ending its life by slitting the animal's throat with his bowie knife. The young half -breed's cooking skills were about as good as his hunting skills, and the soldiers became indebted to him.

  Hunter led them out of the Florida swamps, north into Georgia, delivering them safely into the hands of their regiment. Hunter was rewarded with guns and a job – tracking down Indians for the United States Army. They taught him to shoot, drink, and gamble. Everything a man needed to know. Even though he was a man among many men, he was still part Injun, a loner – and considered by many, the enemy.

  He now stood with his arms around a beautiful woman and a fine boy, thinking he'd finally found what he'd been searching for his whole life. A family, he swore to himself, he would not let anything or anyone, ever come between them.

  * * * * *

  Jimmy had fetched the wagon and brought it around to the front of the saloon, where Matt helped him load the three bodies.

  "Jimmy, run these bodies up to the doc's place. Tell him and anyone else you come across to hunker down or leave town."

  "How bad is it gonna' be, boss?" Jimmy asked. He continued without letting Matt answer, "You know I don't git in no one's affairs, I just do what you tell me."

  "I'm tellin' ya', after the doc's, you take the wagon and the horses and git on out of town to your sister's place, and stay there. Bessie's already there, I sent her this mornin'."

  "Fer how long?" Jimmy asked.

  Matt was getting a little irritated. He knew Jimmy didn't get along with his sister, that's why he was working and living here, at the saloon. For a man that didn't get in anyone's business, he always asked a lot of questions.

  "Damnit, Jimmy, don't argue with me! Just git goin'."

  "I ain't arguin' with yaws, boss, I's just askin', gees." Jimmy snapped the reins, moving the horses and the wagon down the road.

  Matt could hear him complaining and mumbling 'til he was out of, what Matt liked to call, bitchin' distance.

  Matt looked up and down the street. There was no one around. The few shops in town were locked up tight. The word had gotten out that big trouble was coming. As far as he could tell, everyone had skedaddled. The old man entered his saloon, setting the shotgun on the bar with the barrels facing the front door. He grabbed up both dead rattlesnakes, walked around behind the bar, and laid them up on top of the counter. He pulled two bottles of whiskey from underneath, opening one and taking a long welcome swig.

  After a deep breath, Matt said aloud, "I'm gitin' way too old for this shit,"

  Hunter walked in.

  Matt quickly put his hand on the shotgun's stock, his finger on the trigger. Af
ter seeing who it was, his hand went from the gun to his face, rubbing his chin whiskers.

  "A little jumpy there, ain't ya', old man," Hunter commented as he bellied up to the bar.

  With a glare, Matt handed him the open bottle.

  The half-breed took a long draw. Hunter looked at the diamondbacks, pointing with his thumb, "Dinner?"

  "Waste not, want not." replied Matt.

  "You know how to clean and cook that kind a' varmint?" Hunter asked, knowing damn well the old timer did. He was just trying to ease the predicament they had found themselves in.

  "I was skinnin' and cookin' rattlers before you were a scratch in your daddy's britches."

  "Can't you ever just answer yes or no?" asked Hunter.

  "I found in all my years that yes and no answers don't add much to a conversation." Matt said with a grin, before opening the other bottle for himself.

  Hunter turned back to the serious matter at hand. "Matt, you're too old for this. It's my fight, so why don't you git out a' town for a few days and I'll take care of this mess."

  Matt pulled two cigars out of his top pocket and handed one to Hunter. They both bit the ends off, spitting them on the floor and lighting up.

  "You're right, son. I might be too old for this, but I'll tell you somethin'... I was born here, I was the first one to build here, and I'm goin' to die here. No rich Yankee is gonna' run me off without a fight. Besides, we can hang together or we will for sure hang separately, so do we have a plan yet or what?"

  "Didn't someone important say that?"

  "Yeah, me, now what's the plan?"

  "Right now, the only plan I got is to kill everybody without gittin' shot, but I'll think of somethin'."

  They clanked whiskey bottles and drank to their backwoods profoundness.

  Chapter Seven

  Early the next morning just after the sun had come up, Montgomery and his men were headed back to Myakka. Richard had gotten the word his Lilith was running with the half-breed. She was trying to escape him, which wasn't a surprise. She had tried before, but with that savage, that was unacceptable. They both must die. He didn't care who took the gunslinger out, but he wanted to kill Lilith himself. She made a fool out of him. His reputation was at stake and he couldn't let something like this stand. It was possible the men he left behind may have already killed them, but he couldn't count on it. Those three were far from his best, and they were more than likely no match for Hunter James Dolin.