Righteous Kill

by G. Michael Hopf

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Billy asked, looking towards Alice’s house, which stood in the distance.

  Sitting tall in her saddle, she answered confidently, “No, I need to do this alone. She’ll just give you grief.”

  “But I should go help explain, don’t you think?”

  “No, please just go,” she said, her tone signaling her disappointment at arriving home.

  “I won’t stop searching,” he said, referring to finding Killer Joe. “I’ll leverage everything to make sure he gets the justice he deserves.”

  “If you ever find out, can you please let me know?”

  “I’ll do that,” Billy said, meaning every word of it. He found her alluring and didn’t want their encounter to end, but it had to.

  “Thank you, even though we didn’t get him, I appreciate the adventure.”

  “No more thanking me,” Billy said. He let out a sigh and continued, “I’ve got to get the sheriff’s and deputy’s bodies back into town and inform the mayor what happened.”

  “I can help,” she offered.

  “No, you go back and tell your ma that I apologize for taking you away.”

  “I won’t do that. I’m going to tell her the truth.”

  A silence fell between them; neither wanted to say goodbye.

  “I should let you go,” Alice said timidly.

  “Yes, I really need to go get the sheriff,” he said and turned his horse around.

  “Marshal—” she said before being interrupted.

  “Call me Billy, please.”

  “Billy, if you’re ever close by, don’t hesitate to stop by and say hello,” she offered.

  He looked down shyly and said, “I can do that, but I can’t promise when that’ll be.”

  “I understand.”

  “Ah, maybe you’ll allow me to write you. Can I do that?”

  Her expression shifted from sadness to joy. “Yes, of course.”

  He then wanted to ask her if she’d be available to court but found himself questioning that thought. They lived hundreds of miles apart, and the idea just seemed foolish. He immediately dashed the idea and said, “I’ll send you letters letting you know how things are going with the search for Killer Joe.”

  “I’ll look forward to them.”

  Again an awkward silence fell over them.

  He nodded and said, “Goodbye and take care, Alice.”

  “Goodbye to you and safe travels, Billy.”

  The two gave each other one last look and rode their own separate ways.

  ***

  Alice arrived back to the house, but instead of going straight in, she took her horse to the barn, unsaddled it, and ensured it had hay and feed to eat. Her mind raced with how to respond to her mother’s endless questions and accusations that she knew were coming. She settled with just telling her the truth and nothing more. Soon she’d be eighteen; in fact, in three days she’d officially become an adult and could leave home if she saw fit without having to answer to her mother or anyone.

  She headed across the yard to the house, her thoughts now filled with the adventures of the past two days and of Billy. She found him handsome, brave and strong-willed. The strong-willed part often clashed with her, but she found it forgivable. He was a man who acted that way not out of spite but out of an abundance of caution for her safety.

  She scaled the back steps and entered the kitchen. When her eyes saw the scattered pans and debris, she froze. Something awful had happened while she was gone. She reached deep into the pocket of her skirt and removed the pistol. She thumbed the hammer back and held it out in front of her. She was tempted to call out, but if the person who had caused this was still in the house, the last thing she wished to do was alert them of her presence.

  She carefully made her way to the door that separated the kitchen and the hallway, making sure to avoid stepping on anything that would make noise. She pressed her ear against the door and listened but heard nothing. She wondered if the boys had caused this mess or if they were even there. Slowly and cautiously she turned the knob and opened the door a crack. She peeked through to see the chaos continued on the other side.

  A whimper sounded from upstairs.

  She opened the door more to listen.

  Without notice a hand reached in, grabbed the door, and threw it open fully. There stood Joseph. “Why, hello. We meet again.”

  Alice raised the pistol.

  Joseph swung down with his pistol and struck her on the top of the head; it was similar to the way he’d hit Martha.

  Alice stumbled backwards into the kitchen, only stopping when she hit the table. She dropped her pistol onto the floor, turned and took a step to run away.

  Joseph wasn’t going to allow her to flee this time. He burst into the kitchen, grabbed her arm, and swung her around. He reached back with his left hand and came forward, slapping her face with the back of his hand.

  Her head snapped to the left.

  He came back across her face, this time palm forward.

  She crumpled to the ground, dizzy from the strikes. Seeing the pistol in front of her, feet away, she reached for it.

  He kicked the pistol out of reach, grabbed her by the back of her hair, and pulled her to her feet. “You’re not getting away this time,” he seethed.

  Still able to think, she lashed out and clawed his face with her fingernails.

  He bellowed in pain but didn’t let go of his firm grip. He slammed her head down on the table; this time the blow to the head knocked her out.

  Alice’s body went limp and she fell to the floor.

  “Let’s pick up where we left off.” He snickered.

  ***

  Billy didn’t get a quarter mile away when the urge to go back was so overwhelming that he turned around. He had met a unique and special woman, and if he didn’t ask, he could lose her forever. In all the years he’d traveled, he never met someone like her, so to let her go now would be foolish.

  He turned his horse around and rode for her house to ask if he could do more than write her; he wanted to see if he could court her. Yes, he knew that would entail discussing this with her mother, Maggie, and after what had happened recently, she could tell him to go away, but either way, he thought it best for Alice to know his true intentions were to see her in a romantic way.

  He reached the drive and stopped when doubt and second thoughts came. What if she didn’t feel the way he did? What if she said no? He now reconsidered, thinking that his overtures could be too much too soon.

  “Just do it,” he said. “But what if…”

  Dismissing the fear and doubt, he decided to go for it, thinking that if he didn’t tell her, he might never get a chance.

  He rode down the drive fast, stopped just out front, and hopped off the horse. The second his feet touched the ground, his side reminded him that he was still healing. He sucked up the pain, straightened out his vest, and made for the front door, which sat open. He scaled the steps and stopped when he saw debris strewn inside as if it had been tossed about.

  His senses kicked in and he felt something wasn’t right. Not one to challenge his gut feelings, he pulled his pistol out slowly and thumbed back the hammer. He cleared the few feet to the edge of the doorway and leaned in to get a peek in the first room, to find the furniture was in disarray as if someone had thrown it here and there.

  His heart was racing and his instincts were now screaming that someone not welcome was in the house. He stepped across the threshold and entered the house; pausing a foot inside, he let his ears listen for anything out of sorts.

  It was quiet, too quiet. He knew Alice had only arrived minutes before, so she would have been moving about, and if her mother, Maggie, was here, he would have arrived to hear a litany of questions being lobbed in Alice’s direction. Instead he was greeted with an eerie silence. He contemplated calling out, but something told him that was the last thing he wanted to do. He moved from the front room and into the hall, ensu
ring that each step he took was soundless. Ahead of him was the door that led to the kitchen, and to his left the base of the stairs stood.

  He looked up the stairs but saw nothing, so he progressed into the kitchen to find it similar to the front room. He spun around and went to the door on the right. He turned the knob and pushed it open; it was a small office, and by the look of it, no one had used it in some time. With all of the rooms cleared, the only place left to go was upstairs. He found himself back at the base of the stairwell and stared up it. He recalled the floor plan of the second story and decided that upon reaching the second floor, he’d turn left and go to the first room; what he didn’t know was it was Alice’s.

  He put his right foot down on the first step, lifted his left leg, and set that foot on the second step. The old steps creaked under his weight and sounded loud in the dead silence of the house. He set his foot on the third step, but this time paused to listen. He swore he heard a voice; it sounded as if it was muffled.

  His grip on his pistol tightened and his heart rate increased. He listened, but the sound was gone. Was it a figment of his imagination? he thought, or had he really heard someone? The need to find Alice filled him with fear; his cautious behavior could possibly be putting her life in danger. So without any more regard, as swiftly and quietly as he could, he scaled the remaining steps but one. Stopping just one step short of the second floor, he peered around the corner and looked down the darkened hallway, but saw nothing but three doors. Two of the doors were closed, one being Martha’s room. The door to his left was also closed.

  He stepped onto the landing, turned the knob on Alice’s door, and pushed it open. There, huddled against the far wall, were Maggie, Anne, Clive and Adam; they were bound and had their mouths gagged.

  Maggie whimpered and nodded with her head in the direction of the door.

  Billy went to them and pulled Maggie’s gag from her mouth.

  “He’s got Alice. He’s got her at the barn!” Maggie cried.

  Billy jumped to his feet. He turned and was paralyzed when he heard a scream coming from the backyard of the house. He knew it was Alice and she was in need. He spun around, exited the room, and raced down the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back. He instantly spotted someone running from the barn towards the house. He looked carefully and saw it was Alice, her clothes torn and a look of terror on her face.

  Joseph emerged from the barn, a pistol tucked under his armpit as he buttoned his trousers. Blood dripped from his face and onto his white shirt.

  Billy looked more carefully and recognized Joseph.

  “I’m going to get you, bitch!” Joseph howled.

  Alice had managed to flee Joseph’s clutches by jabbing a hair comb into the side of his face. With that one blow, she pushed him off her and took flight. She knew if she could make it to the house, she could find something to defend herself with. She dashed towards the house, her mind only focused on survival, and happened not to see Billy until he stepped off the back porch. “Billy!” she cried out.

  Springing into action, Billy raised his cocked pistol, aimed it at Joseph, and squeezed the trigger. His first round exploded from the barrel, traveled the fifty yards in less than a second, only to slam into the door of the barn, sending small wood fragments flying. He grunted, cocked his pistol again, and took aim.

  Joseph looked back at the hole in the door, cocked his pistol, and aimed at Billy. He began to squeeze; then, just before he fired, he switched his aim to Alice and fired. His round hit Alice in the back.

  She yelped in pain and toppled to the ground.

  “No!” Billy cried out, seeing her fall. His sorrow turned to anger. He narrowed his gaze on the sights of his pistol, leveled them on Joseph’s chest, and squeezed his second round off. This time his aim was true. The .45-caliber bullet slammed into Joseph’s chest, hitting him just below his heart.

  Joseph grunted from the impact and took two uneasy steps backwards. He looked down and saw the hole in his shirt. He could feel the warm blood flowing from the wound and see it soaking his shirt. “Son of a bitch,” he said, shocked that he’d been shot.

  Billy cocked his pistol, aimed like before, and squeezed off another round. Like the last time, this one hit just to the left of the previous shot.

  Joseph recoiled from the second hit, dropped his pistol, and fell against the barn door. He slid down until he was on the ground. He coughed several times; a large amount of blood came up and spilled out of his mouth, landing on his shirt and trousers.

  Seeing that Joseph was down, Billy made his way to Alice. He found her alive, but losing a lot of blood from the gunshot wound in her back, just above her waistline. He rolled her into his lap so she was looking up, and gazed into her eyes. “You’re going to be alright. I’ve got you, and I’m going to fix you up, you hear me?”

  “I’ve been shot.”

  “You have, but I think it’s a clean wound like mine was,” he said, seeing the exit hole in the front of her dress.

  “It hurts,” she said, her tone very matter of fact.

  “Yes, getting shot does hurt,” he said, almost wanting to laugh.

  In the distance, Joseph grunted loudly and tried to rise.

  Hearing Joseph, Billy lifted his head and looked to see Joseph attempting to get to his feet, but each time he tried to get up, he’d fall back down.

  “I’ve gotta finish this,” Billy said to Alice.

  She nodded and said, “Do it for Martha.”

  “I’ll do it for all of you,” Billy said. He gently set her on the ground and got to his feet. He looked towards Joseph, and his expression shifted to rage. He marched over to Joseph, stopped feet away and said, “Today you die.”

  Using the latch on the door to steady himself, Joseph tried to get to his feet. Hearing Billy, he stopped, gave him a look and said, “I surrender. Take me in.”

  “Surrender?” Billy asked.

  Joseph dropped to the ground, landing on his butt, raised his arms and said, “I surrender. Now arrest me and take me in. I need to see a doc.”

  Amused by Joseph’s assumption, Billy said, “I’m not here to arrest you.”

  “You’re going to kill me, an unarmed man?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “But you’re a marshal; you’re not supposed to kill unarmed people. You have to arrest me; now do it,” Joseph said. “You’re wearing the badge; you’re a marshal, a lawman. You have to arrest me. I surrender.”

  Billy looked at the badge on his chest and smiled. He pulled it off and tossed it. “I’m not here as a marshal, I’m here as a man who is taking vengeance for all those you’ve harmed.”

  “You can’t just do that,” Joseph said. He hacked a few times and continued, “You have to follow the law.”

  A question popped into Billy’s mind, so he asked without the anticipation of getting a straight answer from Joseph. “Who sent you?”

  “I’ll tell you after you take me to see a doc.”

  “I knew you’d answer like that,” Billy said. He raised the pistol and aimed.

  Holding up his hands, Joseph said, “Hold on, wait.”

  “Are you going to tell me what I want to know?”

  “But you need to take me to see a doc and fast.”

  “Tell me,” Billy said, “and I’ll consider it.”

  “You have to take me to a doc. I’m dying here,” Joseph whined.

  “You can die with the answer to my question or take a chance that I’ll arrest you and take you to town to see a doc in hopes that he’ll patch you up.”

  Joseph spit out a large amount of blood, leaned his head back against the barn door, and said, “It was Al’s father.”

  “What’s his name?” Billy asked. “Where can I find him?”

  “You don’t know who he is?” Joseph asked, stunned by Billy’s ignorance.

  “No, I don’t know who he is, so why don’t you tell me.”

  “Can you lower the pistol first?”

  Billy did
as he said. “Who is he?”

  “George Cummins is a judge. He’s on the Supreme Court in British Columbia. He’s a very powerful man,” Joseph said. He started to cough heavily again. “Now that you know, please hurry and take me to a doc.”

  “It all makes sense.”

  “What makes sense?”

  Joseph’s question tore Billy away from his troubled thoughts. “I have one more question. Did you receive orders to attack us? Were you specifically told to kill us?” It was a question that he needed to know the answer to.

  “Yes, we received a telegram that instructed us to do whatever was needed to save Al,” Joseph confessed.

  More troubling thoughts entered Billy’s mind. The entire operation had been done to protect a powerful man’s son. Al wasn’t going back to Canada to be tried, he was going back to be protected, to be shielded from the law in the United States.

  “Hey, are you going to take me?” Joseph asked, holding out his hand with hopes that Billy would help him to his feet.

  Anger rose in Billy. If this was a setup, then the United States Attorney and others knew about it. They in many ways had sent him and Hemsworth on a mission without any regard for their safety. Did the United States government know that they’d be attacked? How high up did this go?

  “I need to go see a doc!” Joseph barked.

  Billy raised his pistol, aimed it at Joseph’s gut and said, “This is for Martha.” He pulled the trigger, unleashing a .45-caliber round.

  Joseph howled in pain.

  Billy cocked it and said, “This is for Alice.” He fired another round into Joseph’s stomach.

  Joseph clenched his abdomen and cried out in pain.

  Knowing he had one more round in the chamber, he cocked it and said, “And this is for my friend Marshal Hemsworth.” Billy pulled the trigger, the hammer fell forward, and the pistol went off. This time he had aimed at Joseph’s chest.

  Joseph grabbed at the area, gagged for a second, then slumped over dead.

  Billy stared at Joseph’s dead body and felt a deep sense of relief. He’d killed an unarmed man and had violated the very law he had sworn to uphold, but he didn’t care. Joseph Paul King was a man who lived outside the law, so it seemed only right that he should die that same way. Killing Joseph was the right thing to do, and Billy would always know that sometimes there are righteous kills.