Devil Rising

by R. B. Conroy

  “What about Tom Baldwin and Bill Hancock?” Camp asked.

  “Baldwin’s a dead end for them, he’s too honest. Hancock’s got plenty of cash, otherwise I don’t know much about him. He’s new to town.” Jon’s eyes squinted, the smoke curled around his fingers as he punched out the cigar in the metal ash tray. “We’ve got a little time before sundown. Orton’s place is just outside of town a couple of miles. Let’s ride out and have a heart to heart before Canady gets to him.”

  “Sounds good, Boss.” Camp gulped down his beer and banged the glass mug on the hard oak table top.

  Jon grabbed his hat and stood up. He weaved his way between the tables and out the front door. Camp was close behind him..

  He and Camp mounted up and rode toward the edge of town. Jon heard a shout. He glanced over and saw Camp pull up suddenly and stop at the livery stable. He pulled up and watched as Camp ran over to the stable door, reached inside and yanked his six guns off a peg. He strapped on, tied down, and jumped back on his mount.

  Jon shouted at Camp, “Good idea, Camp! You never know what we’re going to run into out there. One thing’s for sure, Faraday and Canady aren’t going to let some little chicken farmer stand in their way. They’d kill him in a minute. Let’s ride; the sun’s running out on us!”

  Babe leaped forward, the race was on to Jed Orton’s. The two lawmen charged out of town toward the setting sun. A few miles down the road, Jon suddenly pulled up.

  “Whoa! Whoa!” Jon had reached a fork in the road. Camp pulled up next to him.

  “What’s up Jon, did you forget how to get there?” Camp joked.

  “Take a look at this, smart aleck,” Jon said. Camp quickly dismounted and walked over to where Jon was standing. “We’ve got some fresh tracks coming from Jed’s place. Looks like somebody may have beaten us to the punch. The tracks take the west fork toward Faraday’s compound. That snake Canady may have already visited Jed.”

  “Nothing we can do about it now, Jon,” Camp retorted.

  “Yea, let’s ride on in. It’s startin’ to get dark already.” The two riders once again hurried on toward the commissioner’s farm.

  White feathers flew in the air as startled chickens scurried to move away from the fast approaching riders. They could see Jed throwing scratch on the ground in the bantam chicken yard as the chicks raced to get into the coop, safely away from the thundering hoofs. Jed, a large heavyset man with a red pock-marked face and furrowed brow, dropped the metal feed bucket over a fence post and walked over to greet Jon and Camp.

  “Welcome, Gents,” Jed said as Jon and Camp found a couple of empty posts and tied up. They walked over and shook hands.

  “Howdy Jed, good to see you again,” Jon said warmly.

  “Jed.” Camp nodded and tipped his hat to the chicken farmer.

  “You boys are just in time. I was just gonna clean out the laying hens’ coop. I could use some help.” Jed kind of smiled at the two visitors.

  “Oh, well ah, no thanks Jed,” Jon said, surprised by the levity from the big man. “We’d love to, but it’s starting to get dark and we need to be heading back to town shortly.”

  “Okay Sheriff, I’ll let you off the hook this time.” Jed’s belly jiggled as he laughed.

  Jon went on. “The sun is setting fast Jed, so I won’t beat around the bush. I’m sure you know that Alex Faraday and Clive Cook have been elected as the new members of the County Commission.” Jon waited for his reaction.

  Jed looked stoic as he calmly replied. “Yes, I know, they’re very popular around here, but I really don’t know much about them. One of their hired hands stopped by to see me just a little while ago. Said his name was Butch. He said Faraday was counting on my vote and then he rode off.” The whole fence shook as Jed slammed the small gate shut and hooked the latch.

  “I’d say hired gun’s a better description,” Jon said evenly. “He’s a real bad actor from the Kansas Territory named Butch Canady. Some say he’s killed as many as fifteen men.”

  “Seemed friendly enough, but I guess you never know. Oh and, you don’t mind if I keep on feeding, do you? I got some hungry layin’ hens,” Jed said. The hens raced over as he dumped the scratch into the metal feeding trays.

  “No, go right ahead Jed. I’m going to want my eggs and bacon at Auggie’s in the morning.” Jon laughed as he explained about Faraday and Cook. “Up Denver way, the two scoundrels tried to take over all the gambling houses by getting Cook elected Sheriff. Once Cook got elected, they went around shutting down all of the saloons, except for Faraday’s. The saloon owners screamed bloody murder and the town council fired Cook and sent him packing. They landed here. Looks like they might be wantin’ to do the same thing here they tried to do in Denver.”

  “And they need my vote, right?”

  “Right!”

  “They think I’m desperate. They think they can bribe me, right?” The chickens scurried about as the remaining scratch sprayed into the pen from Jed’s bucket.

  “Right. I’m afraid you’re right Jed,” Jon replied.

  Jed got real quiet for a minute as if deep in thought and then he spoke. “Jon, it’s no secret that I’ve had some tough times lately. My vein went bust last year and I lost it all, the whole kit and caboodle. It really set me back on my heels. I’ve been stayin’ afloat by providing eggs for Auggie’s and broilers for the Barbee. The money ain’t very good, but it keeps me goin’ until I find a good vein. And I know, I’ve had my share of troubles along the way. But you listen close Jon!” Jed’s eyes were welling up a little. “I ain’t no cheat and I ain’t no crook,” he said passionately. The bucket rattled as he hooked it on the side of the feed barrel and popped on the round wooden lid. “Those boys are barkin’ up the wrong tree with me.”

  “I know, Jed. You’re an honest man.” Jon jumped down off of Babe and walked over and put his arm on the large man’s shoulder. “This isn’t going to be easy, partner; these men can play rough. But we’re here for you, any time.”

  “Thank you Sheriff. I know what men like that can do if you cross them. And it ain’t pretty.”

  “You let me worry about Canady, okay?” Jon said firmly. “And if he comes back to see you, just play along with him, don’t take any chances, alright?”

  “Alright, Sheriff, but I’ll be okay,” Jed replied confidently.

  “I know you will, just be careful. And if he threatens you, let me know right away. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Jed nodded at the sheriff as Jon mounted up. Darkness was gathering as he and Camp began their ride back to town. The moon was already rising in the eastern sky, making the path bright ahead.

  “What do you think?” Jon hollered as he rode along beside Camp.

  “There could be trouble with Jed!” Camp shouted, “Let’s talk about it at the Barbee.”

  Jon nodded in the affirmative and let Camp pull ahead as the two raced toward town. Jon was worried about Jed Orton. He was afraid that he didn’t fully understand the danger he was in. He would have to keep a close eye on Commissioner Orton.

  The bright winter moon shone brightly in the night sky as the two riders arrived in town. Laughing and voices could be heard inside the Barbee. The piano was playing and the kerosene lanterns shined brightly as big Jon pushed through the swinging doors of the popular saloon. Camp was close behind.

  “Howdy Sheriff!”

  “How you doin’ Jon?”

  “Good to see you!”

  Several patrons greeted Jon as he and Camp moved toward the end of the bar.

  “Usual?” Sam asked.

  “Sounds good,” Jon replied as he lifted up his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. Sam grabbed a bottle from under the bar and poured the two men a couple of shots of Early Times. The two men downed their shots and slammed the small glasses on the dark oak bar.

  Sam slid a couple of draft beers down the bar in front of them. Jon pulled out a cigar, bit off the end and lit up. The smoke drifted upward as Jon made
another failed attempt at smoke rings.

  “Riding kind of late aren’t you boys?” the curious Sam asked.

  “Yea, we’ve been out to Jed Orton’s place.”

  “How’s Jed?” Sam asked

  “He’s fine for now,” Jon replied. “Canady paid him a visit today.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yea, they need his vote to run the county. Where’s Libby?”

  “Her friend Sarah McLennan invited her out to their ranch for dinner. She said to tell you she’d see you tomorrow. She set the table in the corner of the room for you and Camp. She’s stayin’ at the McLennan’s tonight and coming back in the morning. And by the way, dinner’s on her tonight.”

  “Well you can’t beat that! Camp, shall we retire to our favorite table?”

  “Sounds good, Boss.”

  Chairs scooted aside as the two lawmen made their way across the crowded saloon. There were several handshakes and greetings along the way. Jon moved around the back side and slid the oak chair out from under the table. He sat down with his back against the wall as usual. Sam was close behind.

  “What are you havin’ fellas?” the friendly barkeep asked. “I got some real juicy pork chops and the grits are great tonight.”

  “Sounds good to me Sam. How about you Camp?”

  “You got any stewed tomatoes back there?’

  “Sure do! Chops, grits, and stewed tomatoes comin’ up. I’ll bring ya a couple more beers.” Sam hurried off.

  Camp picked a pre-rolled cigarette out of the front pocket on his white bib shirt, lit up and took a drag. His light blue eyes squinted as he looked through the smoke at Jon.

  “Got a question for you Sheriff.”

  “Fire away Partner.”

  “Ed tells me that when he first met you in the buffalo camps, you weren’t packin’ heat. Is that right?”

  “Sure is.”

  “Why’d you start packin?”

  “He didn’t tell you, huh?”

  “Nope, when I asked him, he said it was a long story.”

  “Well it sure enough is. You sure you want to hear it?” Jon said as he took a swig of beer.

  “This is all I got planned tonight, so I’m game for anything,” Camp joked. Beer trickled down his chin as he set the empty mug on the oak table top. He swiped it away with his shirtsleeve. Sam arrived with two more beers.

  “Well, here we go!” Jon said good-naturedly. He leaned back, took a long, hard drag off his Havana, smoke drifted to the ceiling as he began to tell his story. “It’s been a lot of years ago my young friend, but I remember it like it was yesterday.”

  Chapter 9

  “After Ed and I parted ways in the buffalo camps, I headed on down the trail to Cheyenne. I wanted to test my gambling skills at some of the famous haunts in that old railroad town. I liked Cheyenne and stayed on there for several years.

  One day I was playing black jack in the McDaniel Saloon on Fifteenth Street and I noticed a couple of scruffy looking hombres standing at the end of the bar. When I first looked at them, a chill shot up and down my spine--something wasn’t right with these boys. I smelled trouble coming. It was kind of dark in the corner where they were standing so I couldn’t get a good look at them. Before long, one of them called me out - he was a mite upset about something. ‘Hey Stoudenmire, you remember me?’ He sounded real mean; the saloon got kind of quiet all of a sudden.

  “‘Can’t say as I do!’ I said, kind of egging him on a little. ‘If you quit hiding in that corner, I could see you better,’ I said, trying to make him mad.

  “‘I ain’t hidin’ from nobody Stoudenmire,’ he shouted. He sounded real mad, like I insulted him or something. Then the two of them came out from the bar and walked toward my table. They looked dirty, smelly, and mean.

  “The first man had an eerie look to him - long scraggily hair and a thin, evil face. He looked kind of familiar, but I still wasn’t sure who he was. The other one was a step behind; I never got a look at him. As the smelly critters got closer, the other players in my game started backing away. They didn’t want any part of these two.

  “I stood up slowly so they could see that I wasn’t carrying. ‘Sorry to disappoint you boys, but I ain’t packin’,” I told them, but it didn’t do any good.

  “They just kept coming right at me; my heart was pounding pretty good by now. The ugly one came to a stop a few feet in front of me and spoke up.

  “Name’s Will Sledge, I was there the night you beat my big brother to a pulp in that saloon tent in the Dakota Territory, Stoudenmire. You damned near killed him, he ain’t been the same since. He just sits in his cabin and looks out at the sky all day. His leg’s all busted up, he can’t see right. He’s not half the man he used to be. You didn’t have to beat him like you did. You coulda let up, but you didn’t. It was an awful thing to watch. I was just a boy then, now I’m all grown up now and you’re gonna pay!”

  “While he was talking, I kind of recognized him. I had seen him there a time or two. Just a kid at the time, he looked quite a bit like his brother, but not nearly as big. Now that he had grown up, he had a real nasty look about him. His mouth kind of curled up in a cruel smile when he talked. I tried to explain why I beat up on his brother.

  “‘The truth is, Mr. Sledge, your brother was whipping up on a much smaller man. If I hadn’t stepped in, he would’ve killed him. You’re brother had a beating coming to him, so I gave it to him.

  “‘Shut your damned mouth!’ Sledge screamed as he kicked a chair aside and moved closer, not wanting to hear the truth about his brother.

  “Just then his partner slid a six gun across the floor in front of me. ‘Hell’s waitin’ for you, Stoudenmire, pick it up now!’ the ugly man shouted. I wasn’t about to try for that six gun, that would have been suicide and I kind of wanted to live a few more years. I just stood real still right beside my table. I wasn’t moving a muscle. It would have been cold blooded murder if he shot me in front of all of those people. I gambled that he wouldn’t. I’ve got to admit it was pretty damn tense in there for awhile.

  “Suddenly, the swinging doors flew open and the local sheriff came busting in the room. Someone had slipped out of the saloon and ran and told the sheriff about my predicament.

  “One of the cowpokes at the bar spoke up. These two hombres are tryin’ to bait this man into a fight and he ain’t armed.’ Will Sledge looked over at the frightened man. He grabbed his hat and hurried out the door.

  “‘Is that right, fellas?” the sheriff asked.

  “The wolfers got as quiet as church mice. They just looked at the sheriff. Surprised by his visit, they weren’t sure what to say.

  “‘I asked you fellas a question and I expect an answer,’ the sheriff yelled, starting to get upset. The wolfers still didn’t answer. Then as quick as a flash, his two Navy Colts flew out of their holsters. They were pointing directly at the two troublemakers.

  “I’ve got to admit Sledge kind of surprised me with his answer. He may not have been as dumb as he looked. Without missing a beat he shouted, ‘I’m just sayin’ hi to an old friend, no need for everyone to get so all fire upset.’ He looked over at me and smiled. Man oh man what an ugly smile that man had.

  “The sheriff asked me if they were really friends of mine. ‘Hell no!’ I said. ‘I don’t make friends with snakes.’ I looked over and winked at Sledge.”

  “You did?” Camp had a good laugh on that one.

  “Sure enough did Partner,” Jon replied.

  “Next, the Sheriff told them to unbuckle their gun belts and drop them slowly to the floor. Any false moves and he’d let them have it. The two unbuckled their belts and dropped them. The sheriff told his deputy to go over and pick them up.

  “Then the sheriff told them he was booking them for disturbing the peace. I told the sheriff that wouldn’t be necessary. I had a better idea.

  “‘Well let’s hear it,’ he said.

  “I told them I’d fight them both, right then and th
ere, out in the street!

  “‘Both of them?’ the sheriff asked. And I said, ‘Yea, both of them.’

  I didn’t think either one of them would fight me alone after what I did to the nasty one’s brother. So I offered to take them both on. I wanted to try and knock some sense into them. With the crowd egging them on, the two agreed to fight me, two against one.”

  “You’re one mean hombre, Boss!” Camp said. “What happened next?’

  “A lot of people got excited and ran out to spread the word about the fight. By the time the three of us walked out, a big crowd had gathered. I guess they wanted to see some blood; my blood!” Jon laughed. “I started to wonder what I had gotten myself into.

  “When we got to the street, the ugly one, Will Sledge, started yelling at me and waving his fist,” Jon recalled. “He was one ornery cuss.

  “‘No mercy, Stoudenmire, you rotten bastard, you’re getting no mercy. Just like you gave my brother.’ That’s what he said to me. Then he ripped off his leather vest and chaps and threw them on the ground and started moving around with his fist doubled up.”

  “What’d you say to them, Jon?” Camp asked. Smoke plumed around Camp’s face as he lit another cigarette.

  “Nothing, I just took off my vest and began rolling my shirt sleeves up.”

  “So they could see your muscles, right Jon?” Camp teased his big boss.

  “Come on Camp, cut that out!” Jon replied, slightly embarrassed.

  “Sorry, Boss. Go ahead.”

  “I really wasn’t all that sure I could whip them both at once, but I wanted to try. I figured I’d have to deal with these boys, particularly Sledge, sooner or later. I hoped this fight would get it out of their system. So I wouldn’t have to be looking over my shoulder the rest of my life.

  “I really never got a look at Sledge’s friend while they were in the saloon,” Jon said. “He was always kind of behind Sledge.”

  “And....” Camp said.

  “Well, when I looked at him out on the street, all I saw was broad shoulders and a bunch of muscles. My oh my, I thought, I’ve really done it this time. He was one big man and he was just dying to knock my block off. I was hoping an earthquake or something would come along and get me out of this. Then the sheriff spoke up.