by Joe Corso
“You’re the Lone Jack Kid, aren’t you?”
“You know I am or you wouldn’t have tapped three times. Are you anxious to die today, cowboy?”
“I’m not the one who’ll be doing the dying. That would be you.”
Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out his federal marshal’s badge.
“Okay, let’s take this out to the street. I’m putting my badge on so I can kill you all legal like.”
“You seem pretty sure of yourself, Kid,” said the man in the red vest.
Charlie chuckled. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard this same bullshit spew out of a cowboy’s mouth? I get this from every punk who thinks he’s fast with a gun. After I kill your friend, I’m coming back for the three of you. If you’re smart, you won’t be here. Now, walk out in the street, cowboy, and let’s get the ball started.”
Before he left, Charlie whispered to Wild Eagle, “Cover me from the door.” Then he looked at the bar man. “When I walk back in here, you had better have two cold beers on that bar or so help me God, I’ll burn this place down.”
Soldiers in the Great War had shot at Charlie and he had participated in so many gunfights that he didn’t fear anyone. Sure, there might be someone faster than him, but he didn’t get a sense that he’d find him in this dirt-water town.
“Whenever you’re ready, cowboy. I’m getting a little tired having to face punks like you, so whenever you’re ready to pull that smoke wagon, go for it.”
By now, everyone in this small town had heard that the Lone Jack Kid was here, and a sizable crowd gathered to see the famous gunfighter in action. Charlie always stood sideways when he faced an opponent, making himself as small a target as possible. But as he stood sideways, his gun hand was inches from his cross draw holster. The cowboy went for his gun, but Charlie was faster on the draw and shot him point blank in the center of his chest, propelling him backwards onto the wooden steps in front of the bar. Charlie stepped over the man and stormed back into the bar. The three men were gone and two beers were waiting for him on the bar.
“Come over here,” he said to the barman. “Why the hell couldn’t you give us our beers right away—instead, you had to wait until a man died.”
The bartender turned white. “I’m sorry, Mr. Longstreet. I didn’t know who you were or I would’ve given you the beers right away.”
“Yeah, so you hesitated and now a man is dead because of your stupidity. I hate jerks and you are one first-class jerk. Now get your ass from behind the bar and bring those beers to our table… and they better be cold.”
Charlie Whispered to Wild Eagle, “It’s best we get back on the road first thing in the morning.”
Wild Eagle nodded.
They drained their beers and were about to leave when Red Vest walked through the canvas doors accompanied by four men wearing guns. Charlie reacted quickly by turning the table over for protection. Wild Eagle dropped down beside him just as the bullets began to fly. The Indian levered his rifle, took a quick look, and shot at a man who was partially hidden by the bar. The man was hit in the chest by the .44 caliber bullet, which sent him crashing backward through the canvas window. Charlie never missed a target at close range and he didn’t miss now. One man put out his left arm and emptied his gun without aiming. Charlie smiled as he heard the satisfying click of a hammer coming down on an empty chamber. Not wasting any time, he aimed at the man’s arm and pulled the trigger. The shot crashed into the man’s upper arm, causing him to spin around. As he did, he became visible for a second and that was enough for Charlie to hit him with a killing shot to the chest. Now there were just two men left.
Charlie called out to the man next to the fancy stranger with the red vest.
“Do you want to die today, stranger? ‘Cause if you want to live, I’ll hold my fire and you can leave. If you stay here, I promise you won’t live another five minutes.”
The man was scared and sweating, knowing the truth of those words. “Hold your fire. I’m leaving.”
“Throw down your gun where I can see it, then get out of here while you still have a chance.”
A gun slid across the floor in Charlie’s direction.
“That’s it. I have no other weapons and I’m leaving now, so don’t shoot. Understand? Don’t shoot.”
“Come out with your hands in the air where I can see them and then get the hell out of here.”
The man stepped out from behind a wall near the door with his hands held high and scampered out of the saloon.
“Now it’s just you and me, Red Vest. You want to go mano a mano out in the street?”
“No. I won’t stand a chance drawing against you, Kid.”
“What do you suggest we do, then? You know I can’t just allow you to leave here because if I don’t kill you, my friend here will. And if not him, then my wolf will.”
Red Vest was in a tight spot. He didn’t know how to extricate himself from it.
Just then, some curious cowboys wandered into the bar, wondering what all the gunfire was about. They figured someone just had a little too much to drink and was letting off some steam. As soon as they walked in, Red Vest used them as cover and bolted through the door.
Charlie bent down and spoke softly to Ban-Chu. “Attack, Ban-Chu, attack.”
The wolf flew out the door and into the street, following Red Vest’s scent. He caught up to Red Vest and leaped on him when he ran between two buildings. Instead of ripping out the man’s neck and killing him, Ban-Chu hovered over him, baring his teeth and uttering a low, warning growl and snarling viciously. Less than a minute later, Charlie arrived.
Charlie dragged Red Vest by his collar out from between the two shanty buildings into the street where a mob had gathered. The curious crowd backed up a few steps when they spotted Ban-Chu walking beside his master. The wolf seemed to know that the crowd presented no danger to Charlie so he stood benignly beside him while one of the crowd stepped forward.
“What are ya gonna do with him, Kid?”
Then he noticed the marshal’s badge on Charlie’s chest.
“Excuse me, I meant to say ‘Marshal.’ What are you gonna do with him, Marshal?”
Charlie looked suspiciously at the man.
“Who wants to know?”
“My name is Chuck Weaver and this man cheated me out of my saloon in a card game.”
“Yeah.” Another man added his voice to the discussion. “That’s Sam Stone and he’s been nothing but trouble ever since he arrived in Horse Head Crossing. He’s brought some hard men into our community and encouraged more of their type to join him here here. You took care of most of them, but there are still a few others who are always starting trouble.”
Charlie pointed to Chuck Weaver. “You. Go back to your saloon and tell the bartender that this is now your place. You’ve taken it back. If he gives you a hard time, tell me, and I’ll have a little talk with him.
Weaver gave Charlie a great big smile. “Yes, sir. I’m going there right now.”
Charlie motioned for him to stay. “Wait a minute, Chuck. Before you leave, tell me, is there any law in this town?”
“No. We’re too small a town to have a permanent law officer, but we do have a vigilante committee.”
Chuck moved closer to Charlie so no one could hear him.
“We don’t let on who’s on the vigilante committee, but if you’d like, I’ll take you to see Warren Bates. He’s the leader. He’s got a good head on his shoulders and he ain’t afraid of the likes of these men. The trouble is, Warren is no gunfighter, so he’s been powerless to stop Sam Stone. He owns the blacksmith shop. Let’s take your prisoner there. He’ll know what to do with him.”
“That sounds good. When I’m finished talking to Warren Bates, I’ll go with you to your saloon to make sure no one questions your ownership of the place.”
Warren Bates was a big man with the huge muscular arms you would expect of someone who wielded a heavy hammer day in and day out.
&
nbsp; “Howdy, Marshal. It’s a genuine pleasure to meet you. Heard a lot about you but, to tell you the truth, I never thought I’d meet you wearing a marshal’s badge.”
Charlie laughed. “To be honest, neither did I.”
Both men laughed and Charlie felt comfortable talking to the big man.
“Chuck here seems to think you can take care of my prisoner until we can get him before a judge and then to Yuma’s jail, where he’ll remain until the territorial prison is finished.”
Warren looked at Wild Eagle and then at Charlie as if he were making a decision, then he shrugged. “Come on out back. I’ve been working on something in my spare time and I completed it a few days ago.”
The men walked out the shop’s back door and across the wagon-rutted yard to a wooden shack.
“This is where I keep my supplies.”
Bates opened the door and showed them the hidden cell he had built behind the shack’s wooden doors. Charlie examined the cell and was impressed with the workmanship.
“This is a great piece of work, Warren. I’m impressed.”
Warren beamed with pride. “I didn’t use screws on any of this. When I couldn’t bend the metal to the shape and angle I wanted, I used a new technique I call ‘fusing.’”
Charlie’s eyes narrowed as he tried to understand what Warren meant. “Fusing? What in hell is fusing?”
Warren pointed to a metal corner at the front of the cell. “When I couldn’t bend the metal to this angle, I took two separate pieces of metal and fused them together with tremendous heat, then I filed it smooth. This is the finished result. I was afraid if I used screws, the prisoner might somehow find a way to unscrew them and escape.”
He saw the skeptical look on Charlie’s face. “Yeah, I know the chances of that are slim, but I figured, why take a chance? It took me extra time, but I made sure the cell was escape proof. I’ll put Stone in here and keep an oil lamp burning so he’s not in darkness. I’ll make sure he’s fed proper and has a chance to perform the necessities.”
“Good. You taking Red Vest off my hands takes a load off my mind. Do you have a telegraph station in this town?”
Warren shook his head. “No, our town is too small and too out of the way. You’re gonna have to wait until you get to Yuma. But put your mind at ease, ‘cause Stone is going nowhere.”
“Tell you what,” Charlie said. “When I get to Yuma, I’ll check the wanted posters and if there’s a reward out for Stone or any of the men I killed, I’ll send you the reward money so you can build a proper jail. Now, in order to get the reward monies, I have to collect the billfolds of the dead outlaws, and I’d like a statement from you confirming that those men are dead and this one is still alive. Then I’ll take a walk with Chuck Weaver to get him his saloon back.”
Warren shook his head. “A statement from me won’t work, Kid. I’m no lawman. I’m just a blacksmith.”
“Who says you’re not a lawman? Raise your right hand.” When he had done so, Charlie continued, “By the power invested in me, I hereby appoint you sheriff of Horse Head Crossing. I’ll record your appointment in Yuma. You should request a small salary from the town council.”
“But I don’t know how to use a gun,” Warren stammered.
“That’s not a problem. Get yourself a shotgun and cut the barrel down, and when you confront anyone, make sure you have the shotgun facing in their direction but pointing at the floor. Do that and no one will question you. And get yourself a badge. If the town doesn’t have a sheriff’s badge, then make one for yourself, because a badge is almost as powerful a weapon as a gun. After seeing the jail cell you built, a badge should be a simple matter for you to make. When the town council recognizes you as sheriff, and you have your shotgun and badge, then appoint a deputy or two. When you face trouble, a deputy can make all the difference in the world. If you’re facing a man, make sure you spread out when because no gunman wants to take on two lawmen at the same time, especially if they’re separated. After that, if you still feel you’re not up to the job, then have the town council place an ad for a lawman in the Yuma paper. There are plenty of men who would apply for the job. Any questions, Warren? No? Okay, Chuck, let’s head over to your saloon.”
The bartender’s eyes grew wide with fear when he saw Charlie and Wild Eagle walk through the doors with Chuck Weaver, his old boss. Charlie motioned for the bartender to come closer.
“Mr. Weaver has regained ownership of this establishment and he has something to say to you, so pay attention.”
“Baldy, you let me down. You betrayed my trust.”
Charlie smiled inwardly when he heard Weaver refer to his bartender as Baldy and not Riley.
“You knew that Stone was cheating me and yet you didn’t warn me. You allowed him to steal this place from me.”
Riley’s expression changed from fearful to pleading. “Please, Chuck, I had no say in the matter. I hated working for him. I was always afraid he’d sic one of his hired hands on me. What could I do? I had no choice but to keep my mouth shut and do what he wanted. Give me another chance, Chuck. I promise you won’t regret it.”
Weaver scratched his head and thought about what was the right thing to do. He looked at Charlie for some help and got a slight nod in return.
“Okay, Baldy, you have another chance. Do your job and we’ll get along just fine, but I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”
Charlie turned to leave, but Chuck Weaver stopped him to shake his hand and thank him for his help.
“Before you leave town, there are still a few more of Sam Stone’s gunmen hanging around. I’m afraid that after you leave, they’ll try to break Stone out of his cell.”
Charlie handed Wild Eagle a cigar, took a match and lifted his foot, slid the match across the sole of his boot, and lit his cigar. Then he passed the lighted match to Wild Eagle. Charlie took a deep drag of the cigar and picked a piece of tobacco from his lip. “Do you know where these men are right now?”
“I’m not sure, but they can usually be found playing cards in Sonny’s tent over on Smith Street.”
Chuck Weaver led the way.
“Wild Eagle, when I enter the tent, you go in through the side entrance and train your rifle on the card table. I figure there might be one or two that may go for their guns and those are the ones you shoot first.”
He turned to Weaver as he peeked over the canvas and into the room.
“Now point out the troublemakers.”
“Those three sitting at the table with Jed Riker. He’s the one facing us and he’s harmless. Jed owns a small ranch just outside of town and he comes in here to play cards a few times a week. It’s the other three men you have to worry about.”
“Thanks, Chuck. Now stand back because lead is liable to fly.”
Charlie boldly entered the crowded room and walked up to the table where the men were busy playing cards. He was wearing his badge. “You three, step outside with me please.”
One man looked up and chuckled. “Well, look who we have here. A marshal who thinks he’d gonna arrest us.”
The other two men laughed nervously at the remark, which wasn’t at all funny.
Charlie looked down at his badge and a bitter smile passed like a shadow across his lips.
“If the badge bothers you fellas, I’ll take it off. Now, if you want a fight, then I’m your huckleberry.”
Someone in the room yelled out, “Don’t draw on him! He’ll kill you. He’s the Lone Jack Kid.”
Hearing that Charlie was the Lone Jack Kid got the men’s attention. One of the men dropped his hand near his gun, causing Ban-Chu’s hackles to rise. He stood at attention, growling and baring his fangs.
“I wouldn’t make any sudden move toward your guns, fellas. If my wolf doesn’t get you, my friend over there will.”
The men looked over their shoulders and saw the Indian holding a Winchester aimed straight at them. The man with his hand near his gun asked Charlie, “Is this the way you operate, Kid? I thought you
were a man, but from what I can see, you’re nothing but a lowdown coward. If you give me a chance, I know I can take you in a fair fight.”
Jeb raised his hands and got up from the table. “I’m leaving, guys. I’m just a rancher and this fight doesn’t concern me.”
Charlie waved his gun toward the door. “You can leave, but you three stay right where you are.” Charlie called out to Wild Eagle. “Keep your gun trained on those two while I deal with this one outside, since he’s so anxious to die.”
That remark got everyone’s attention. They couldn’t wait to see if he could back up his words.
“Outside, stranger.”
The two men walked out onto the street and positioned themselves about fifteen feet apart. “You don’t have to die today, stranger. You can still back off and leave town and I give you my word I won’t come after you.”
The man smiled bitterly. “I’ve faced down a number of men in my time, Kid, and I never lost. I believe I can take you.”
“Too bad,” the Kid said. “I’ve heard those same words from a number of men just before they died. You still have a choice. You can live. You don’t have to die. Just turn around and leave town.”
“No dice, Kid. Whenever you’re ready.”
Everyone in that small town was out on the street, knowing that something extraordinary was about to happen, something they’d tell their grandkids about. The spectators were afraid to take their attention off the two men, thinking they might miss something. At that moment, something did happen, which no one watching would soon forget. The stranger went for his gun and he was fast on the draw, but Charlie was a heartbeat faster. To the crowd witnessing the fight, it appeared that both men pulled their guns and shot at the same time, but while Charlie’s shot hit the man square in his chest, the stranger’s shot clipped part of Charlie’s shirt sleeve, leaving a slight channel along the flesh in his arm.
Before Charlie could react, there was another gunshot. He spun around with his gun, spanning the crowd, causing everyone to shrink back. But he held his fire, searching for the origin of the gunshot. A man slumped as Wild Eagle nudged him with his foot and turned him on his back. There was a gun in the dead man’s hand. The third man, seeing his two buddies lying dead in the street, took off toward his horse, which was tied to a hitching post in front of Sonny’s tent.
