Ralph Compton Straight Shooter

by Ralph Compton

Jesse’s gun spat a plume of fiery smoke. Its bullet nicked Aldus’s left sleeve, snagging his jacket and clipping his elbow just enough to knock that arm back. Aldus was still on his way down and the bullet’s passage caused him to turn awkwardly as he fell. He slammed against the dirt on his back, his next breath spewing out in a gasp. At that moment, the rest of the world came rushing in again as if he only just now realized it was there. He was running on pure instinct now and he fired the Schofield while his feet scrambled to find purchase upon the dusty ground.

  That shot punched straight through the canvas cover of the wagon and ricocheted against something inside. Jesse fired at him as well but obviously hadn’t expected Aldus to dive because his round hissed several feet above him. Now that he’d come to a rest, Aldus steadied himself with both legs splayed and his shoulders flat against the earth. He did as Hayes had taught him by extending his gun arm straight, sighting along its barrel, and letting out a breath while squeezing his trigger.

  The moment the Schofield went off, Aldus knew it would hit his mark. Sure enough, Jesse was knocked backward when he was drilled through the center of his chest. The expression on his face was a mix of surprise and disbelief as his finger tightened around his trigger. Jesse’s gun sent a round into the dirt before it flew from his hand.

  “Aldus! For God’s sake, get back here!”

  Aldus couldn’t move. He was lying on his back with chaos raging around him and shots flying in every direction and couldn’t move. He’d just shot another man. If Jesse wasn’t dead already, he would be soon, and that was all he could think about.

  When footsteps scrambled toward him, Aldus reflexively twisted his body around to point the Schofield at whoever was coming. Even though he recognized Hayes, his nerves were wound so tight that he still almost pulled his trigger.

  Hayes grabbed Aldus’s forearm without a care for the gun clutched in that hand and started pulling. “You’ve got to get to your feet,” he said. “All hell’s broken loose!”

  “I . . . I just . . .”

  “Just nothing! Get up!”

  Aldus had heard those words shouted at him several times throughout the years. Although his circumstances were something other than trying not to pass out after being walloped in the face, the demand struck a similar nerve, which got every muscle in his body striving to work in unison. He didn’t need Hayes’s help any longer, but having it only made him scramble to his feet quicker. Before he knew it, Aldus was huddled behind the wagon where he and Hayes had cover from at least some of the shooting.

  “What’s this all about?” Aldus asked. “What was Overland talking about? Is he trying to take over Seedley? Did he mention something about a militia?”

  Hayes shook his head as if he couldn’t stop. “I don’t know what that was about. Obviously it’s a feud or something similar that’s been brewing since long before we got here.” A gun was fired that was closer than the rest, sending a bullet all the way through the wagon to send wood chips fluttering down onto the salesman’s head. “We don’t need to figure out what’s going on or why,” he said. “We just need to get out of here with our skins intact.”

  Both of them were hunkered down behind the wheel and lower part of the wagon. Keeping his back pressed against the wooden planks, Aldus scooted over so he could take a quick look at the homestead. A few men were still in the open, either rooted to their spots in fear or just trapped where they stood and firing at anything that moved. The rest had sought shelter behind whatever was available. Barrels, water troughs, the house, the barn, all of it was being used for cover, which meant all of it was getting chewed up by hot lead.

  Reloading the Schofield with fresh rounds from his gun belt, Aldus said, “This could have gone a lot worse.”

  “Really?” Hayes scoffed. “How do you figure?”

  “The marshal and his men could not have shown up.”

  A stray round burned through the wagon’s cover before sparking against something farther away. Wincing at the sharp sound that was in such close proximity, Hayes smirked and said, “Or we could be hiding behind the wagon containing my ammunition stores. What now?”

  “I’d say our odds are better if Marshal Borden comes out of this on top, so let’s do whatever we can to make sure that happens.”

  “I’m not a killer. I don’t know if I can . . .”

  “We defend ourselves,” Aldus said. “That doesn’t mean we have to kill every man in our sights. Let’s just draw some fire away from the law so they can do their jobs.”

  Hayes drew a deep breath, which went a long way in steadying the hands wrapped around his rifle. “I’m the better shot. Do what you can to keep them from . . .” He swallowed hard as if choking on the words he’d been about to say. He settled with “Just keep them away from me.” After that, he dropped down to all fours and crawled under the wagon. Once he’d found his spot, he stretched out on his belly and steadied the rifle against his shoulder.

  Almost immediately Aldus spotted someone turning toward the wagon. It was one of Overland’s boys. He could pick him out by the wild look in his eyes. Also, the fact that he’d been firing at one of Borden’s deputies a few seconds ago helped erase any doubt when Aldus pointed his Schofield at him. The gunman fired at the wagon just as Aldus fired at him. Having had his sights set on Hayes, the gunman was startled when someone else returned fire.

  Aldus wasn’t ready to send another man to his grave, so his shots were purposely a few inches wide to the right. The gunman was caught in the open, and since Aldus was firing in one direction, he ran in the other. A few seconds later, Mark took aim from his perch in the barn’s loft and gunned him down with two well-placed rifle shots.

  It was difficult for Aldus to see the other man fall, but he knew that the same man wouldn’t have lost a moment’s sleep over killing both him and Hayes. Aldus didn’t have time to dwell on the details since there was still plenty of shooting to be done.

  The first shot Hayes took hit a barrel next to the house. He fired again, sending the man who’d been cowering behind that barrel running for more suitable cover. Unbeknownst to the fleeing gunman, Marshal Borden himself was standing around the corner with his back to the house along with his deputy Paul. As soon as the gunman saw both of them, he tossed his gun and threw his hands high above his head.

  “Very nice!” Aldus said.

  Hayes worked the lever of the rifle and replied, “Got lucky with that one. Get ready.” With that, he fired over a small cluster of Overland’s gunmen who were gathered near the side of the house opposite of Marshal Borden. Hayes followed up with another shot that was close enough to scatter them.

  The men who had been gathered there didn’t appreciate being driven from their spot and showed it by firing at the wagon. Aldus took quick aim, knowing the men were outside the pistol’s most effective range. Just to be sure, he pulled his aim to the left and continued pulling his trigger. One of the three gunmen raced around the back of the house while the second and third charged toward the wagon. When Hayes’s rifle barked again, one of the men coming toward him toppled over and grabbed his leg while screaming in pain.

  “Sorry!” Hayes shouted. His apology was swallowed up by the next round he fired, which caused the second charging gunman to change direction so he could get behind a nearby tree.

  The gunshots erupting behind the house rose to a crescendo, followed by shouting back and forth between two groups of men. In a short amount of time, the shooting died down and the marshal reappeared on the side of the house to throw a wave toward the wagon. He then looked toward the barn before pointing to the open plot of land in front of the house, where several men lay wounded or completely still. Mark was no longer in the barn’s loft. Soon Aldus saw the deputy run outside. He kept his head low and his steps quick as he hurried to check on one of the men lying exposed on open ground.

  In all the commotion, Aldus had stopped seeing most
of the shooters as separate people and instead looked at them only when they seemed like an immediate threat. Most of that was due to the panic nipping at his heels. When Cal Overland stepped away from one of the pillars supporting the overhang in front of his house, Aldus took notice of him right away.

  Cal had a gun in each hand but only brought up the right one to fire. Where Aldus and Hayes had been panicked, worried, or frightened, Cal seemed completely in his element. He took aim with utter confidence after having stood by for the last several seconds while the rest of the men fired at one another. In that moment, Aldus knew that Cal meant to kill Mark simply because he was the closest available target. When Aldus fired at him, Cal didn’t bat an eye.

  When Hayes fired his rifle, on the other hand, Cal took notice. The round whipped past Cal’s head and took a notch from the pillar behind him. Spotting Hayes immediately, Cal shifted his aim. Aldus fired again, pulling his trigger until his hammer slapped against the back of one empty casing after another. Hayes fired as well, hitting spots in the ground directly in front of Cal meant to stop him in his tracks. The owner of the homestead shouted a string of foul language at the wagon until Marshal Borden and Paul stepped out to face him.

  “It’s over!” Borden hollered. “Three of your men are dead and one of them is hightailing it across a field. The rest are knocked out or tied up. You’re finished. Toss them guns before we have to put you down.”

  Cal was too worked up to form a coherent sentence. His teeth gnashed together and he breathed in heavy grunts that swelled his chest to the point of busting open before deflating like a set of bellows. When he finally gathered enough air to speak, he shouted, “Someone shoot these men!”

  There were no takers.

  In fact, the only movement Aldus could see was a few petrified faces looking out through two of the house’s windows.

  “Zeke, get out from under there,” Aldus whispered.

  Hayes either had his sights set right where he wanted them or was unable to move.

  “It’s not our fight,” Aldus said. “Get out from there before you catch a bullet.”

  As Hayes slowly scooted back to come out from beneath the wagon, Cal Overland strutted toward the marshal.

  “I’ve got more men than the ones you see here, Marshal,” Cal said. “You take me into your jail and they’ll just escort me right back out again.”

  “We aim to visit the Healey spread as soon as we’re done here,” Borden said, “and we both know that he won’t put up as much of a fight as you.”

  “This fight ain’t over.”

  “You got nobody to stand there with you, Cal. It’s over. You got one last chance to come out of this alive. If you think that’s a bluff, then go ahead and try me.”

  Cal looked up at one of the faces in a second-floor window. She was a petrified woman who’d been watching them from the moment Marshal Borden announced his presence. The moment Cal turned away from the house, she screamed.

  Overland pointed his gun at Marshal Borden.

  Both lawmen in front of him fired.

  Two rounds struck Cal in the chest. His last twitch clamped a finger around his trigger, sending a round into the dirt. Overland dropped.

  Aldus could scarcely believe what he was seeing. The sheer chaos that had overtaken the Overland homestead had been overwhelming. Despite all the times he’d been shot at over the last several days, it was still difficult to watch Cal Overland be cut down like so much wheat. Once the older man stopped moving, the entire scene rushed in on Aldus at once.

  Bodies were strewn on the ground.

  Some men moaned in pain.

  Others were crawling in random directions.

  In the middle of it all, Marshal Borden stood, an object as unmovable as the house itself.

  “Anyone else feel like trying their luck?” the lawman bellowed.

  Behind the second-floor window, the woman who’d screamed was eerily silent. Her hand was clamped over her mouth to make certain she stayed that way. Others looked out from different windows. Some had fear in their eyes. Some had nothing but hate.

  “I’m gonna tend to my men,” Borden announced. “And then I’m bringing in them that can walk to my jail. Anyone tries to get in my way . . . I’ll shoot them where they stand!”

  Nobody said a word or made a move.

  Slowly, Borden nodded and gave some orders to Paul. The big man hurried to start rounding up the surviving gunmen. It was only then that Aldus saw the man Mark had been tending to was Dan, the marshal’s youngest deputy. Before long, Mark lowered his head and closed Dan’s eyes.

  “You men did real good,” Marshal Borden said. His voice came as a shock because Aldus had been so mesmerized by the events unfolding in front of him that he hadn’t seen the lawman’s approach. Borden offered a hand to Hayes and helped him come out from beneath the wagon.

  “You didn’t tell us we’d be in the middle of . . . all this,” Hayes said.

  The marshal shrugged. “I didn’t know it would come to this. All I wanted was to see if I could make certain Cal was one of the vigilantes. I knew things were coming to a boil, but—”

  “Can we go?” Aldus asked.

  Although he clearly didn’t like being interrupted, Borden said, “Yeah. I’m not about to stop you. I appreciate your help.”

  “And we would have appreciated not being drawn into this.”

  “It’s like I already told you—”

  “Don’t give me that,” Aldus snapped. “You had to have known this might happen. You knew what kind of man Cal Overland was. We didn’t. You knew how vicious these vigilantes truly were. We only heard a few stories.”

  “And you knew there were men stockpiling guns in this town,” Borden said. “That’s why you came here, right? To sell them more?”

  Hayes was shaken by that. After taking a breath to steady himself, he said, “That’s why I wanted to help out now. We’re done here, Marshal. I don’t know the history between your town and these vigilantes. I don’t care what the Overlands or Healeys had to do with any of you. I don’t even care about the nonsense that Mr. Overland was spouting about a militia. None of that matters anymore. I’m through with it.”

  Borden extended his hand. “Fair enough. You truly did well in covering us and I’m sorry about how things turned out. Truth be told, I wasn’t even sure if I could trust you or not. You proved me wrong. Thanks for all you done.”

  Hayes shook the lawman’s hand. Reluctantly Aldus did the same.

  “What about that Healey fellow?” Aldus asked.

  “He’ll most likely surrender as soon as he realizes he don’t have any of Overland’s boys backing him up anymore,” Borden said. “The toughest man he had with him was his boy Frank, and he’s already locked up. At the most, there’s maybe two or three armed men out that way. We can handle them well enough.”

  Before he had a chance to stop himself, Aldus said, “You sure about that?”

  A tired grin drifted onto Borden’s face. “Yeah, Brick. I’m sure. Just so you know, I can pay you a posse fee for what you did here today. It’s the least I can do.”

  “Keep your money,” Hayes said. When Aldus looked over at him, the salesman kept his eyes locked on Borden.

  “All right, then,” the lawman said. “Best of luck to you. I can take it from here.”

  Aldus and Hayes climbed into their wagon and left the Overland property. It wasn’t until they were almost back in town that either man did anything other than keep the horses moving and watch for any hint of another attack. Hayes pulled to a stop on Main Street near the stable, and Aldus turned to look at him and say, “I’ll collect the rest of the horses and hitch them to the other wagon.”

  “Need any help?”

  “No. I done it plenty of times to know my way.”

  “Good,” Hayes said.

  “Zeke?�
��

  “What?”

  “We . . . could have used that posse fee.”

  “I know,” Hayes said. “But we’ll manage without it. I just want to be away from here without anything to remind me of this place. Anything at all.”

  Aldus couldn’t argue with that.

  Chapter 17

  They rode for the rest of that day without saying much. Since Aldus and Hayes both had to drive their own wagon, they wouldn’t normally have been very talkative, but even when they stopped, their words were few and far between. Mostly, Aldus was just tired. It hadn’t taken long for them to join back up with the trail they normally took across Iowa, and the monotony of rolling in a familiar direction allowed his mind to take a rest. He didn’t have to think about much of anything, especially the fiasco that the diversion into Seedley had become.

  All there was to hear was the grinding of wheels against the ground, and all there was to see was the steady swaying of his horses’ tails.

  They had enough provisions to make camp, fill their stomachs, and get some sleep under quiet, familiar stars. When they awoke without any other people in sight, both of them found themselves in higher spirits.

  Rather than dig even further into their provisions as they moved on, Hayes kept his rifle handy so he could take a shot at whatever game the wagons flushed out from the trees or bushes alongside the trail. After missing his first several quail, Hayes reloaded the rifle amid a string of grumbled curses.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Aldus shouted from the wagon behind him. “You’re one of the best shots I know.”

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve been hunting. That’s all.”

  “It hasn’t been that long since you showed off at the shooting gallery. How’s this any different?”

  “This is . . . well, it’s . . . obviously . . .”

  “I get it,” Aldus said. “You’ve gotten soft. You’re used to all the targets standing still.”

  “I did plenty well back at the Overland place, thank you very much!”