by R. B. Conroy
“‘Listen up boys! There will be no hitting or kicking in the privates,’ the sheriff shouted as he drug all three of us toward the center of the street.
“Is that the only rule? I thought to myself, I’m gonna get killed by these guys.
“The horse and buggy traffic, which was always busy at this time of day, came to a complete stop. Life was a little slow around Cheyenne back in those days. Except for an occasional train coming through, nothing much happened. Watching someone like me get killed, could really break up a day. The sheriff went on, ‘You’ll fight until one side gives up or until I tell you to quit. And if you don’t quit when I tell you, I’m going to throw your butt in jail. Do you all understand?’ The sheriff shouted so all could hear.
“We all nodded yes. Then he motioned for us all to come forward to the center of the street. He had us touch knuckles, he stepped out of the way and the fight was on. I can remember it like it was yesterday. Sledge kept saying ‘you rotten bastard’ under his breath. Those guys wanted to kill me and I knew it. One wrong move and I was dead.”
“You must have been sweating bullets!” Camp laughed.
“Yeah I was. Now will you quit interrupting me so I can finish my story?” Jon squinted through the smoke.
“Okay, okay, tell me about the big fight.”
“Well those two buggers started circling around, trying to confuse me. I ducked and weaved, moved left and right, trying to keep track of both of them. Finally, Will Sledge jumped in front of me and threw a big ol’ roundhouse punch. I fooled him and ducked to the right. At the same time I let fly with two hard jabs right to his hairy old jaw. Those two were a couple a good ones, he was yelping in pain. He started making all sorts of funny faces. All of a sudden something spit out of his mouth. A bloody tooth landed on the ground right in front of me. Blood was trickling down the side of his mouth and everything. Gawd, he was an awful sight. Meanwhile, the other son a gun was moving around behind me, looking for his chance to knock my block off. I think he thought the sight of that tooth falling out and everything might throw me off. But knocking that wolfer’s tooth out didn’t bother me anymore than if I’d bitten the head off a rattler or something. It’s either him or me and I’d rather it be him than me.
“At last, the big lug saw his chance to come at me from the back. He shouted ‘Stoudenmire you big pile of buffalo shit, you’re going to get it now!’ Only problem was, I saw him coming out of the corner of my eye. So at the last minute, I bobbed to the left. He threw a huge punch and missed me about a foot. Boy that made him mad; he called me a damned coward. Well that didn’t set too well with me. I swung around like a house afire and buried my fist deep in his gut. The ugly oaf folded over in pain. Then I smacked him with the palms of my hands on both sides of his head. Just like this!” Jon’s cigar slid into his mouth, his arms moved up, his hands smacked together to show Camp how he hit the big wolfer.
“I’ll bet that smarted,” Camp said. “You probably popped his ear drums.”
“Not sure bout that, but he did start kind of wandering around in circles holding his head and screaming. He was stumbling around; I think he lost his equilibrium. It looked a little comical. If he wasn’t trying to kill me, I probably would have laughed.
“They were getting a little frustrated at this point. Then, they leaned down and put their heads together like they were planning something. I told them it wasn’t polite to whisper in front of other people. That really got their backs up. All of a sudden they both came charging right at me; screaming, snorting, grunting, and spitting. They both jumped on top of me, kicking, scratching, and clawing. Trying like hell to get me on the ground, so they could finish me off. Sledge was hanging on my back, grunting and making all kind of noises. His hand went over the top of my head, he stuck his fingers in my nose and eyes and yanked backwards as hard as he could. I think he was trying to rip my pretty nose off. Blood started squirting from both my nostrils. I reached back and grabbed hold of the back of his shirt collar. I pulled him forward as hard as I could and slammed him on the ground. He was struggling to his feet, when I gave him two nasty blows to the kidneys. I was younger then, but I could almost punch as hard as I do now. Those blows to his kidneys were horrible, he fell to the ground and started rolling around, howling in pain.
“Now the big one saw his chance. He let loose of my waist, stepped back and threw a punch right at the side of my head. I ducked down, his big fist bounced off my shoulder. He was madder’n a hornet now. He lifted up his big, stocky leg and kicked me as hard as he could right in the shin. That sent me a hopping, holding my shin and howling in pain. Then the big nasty mudsill tried to kick me again, I let loose of my shin and moved quickly to the left. His foot went flying past me, so I gave him two God awful punches to his rib cage. I think I hurt him real bad with those two, he was all doubled up and wandering around in the street. I clenched my fist and moved over to finish him off. Just as I was going to let him have it, he put his hands up and begged me not to stop hitting him. I pulled back; I showed mercy.
“Boy, he was a sorry sight,” Jon said, as his big body slumped down in the chair, elbows resting on the arms of the chair, his hat tipped back a little. His mouth curled up in a little smile as he continued.
“Then the skunk’s knees started wobbling, he looked kind of bow legged as he staggered around on the street. He was holding his side and making funny noises. I think I got him with those two.”
“No kidding!” Camp joked as his smiling blue eyes looked over at big Jon. “What about Sledge?”
“He was starting to kind of come to. He rolled up on all fours, crawled over to where I was standing, lunged forward and grabbed me with everything he was worth around my leg. He started biting me on the back of my knee--the most tender spot on the leg. Man did that hurt! I yelped in pain and he bit me again. This time he really dug in, he was holding on for bloody murder.
“‘Damn you Sledge!’ I shouted. Then I grabbed a big wad of his scraggly hair and tried to yank him loose. He wasn’t budging. He knew if he let go, I was gonna beat him to a pulp. Pretty soon his jaw muscles begin to tire. I could feel his grip on my leg start to loosen. All of a sudden his muscles let loose and he plopped on the ground. Blood was dripping down the side of his mouth, he was tired and beaten.
“I told him to get up and fight like a man, but he was too weak. I reached down and grabbed him by the shirt collar and yanked him up to where I could see his ugly face. I knew at this point it wouldn’t be a fair fight. As mad as I was at the smelly varmint, I didn’t want to hit him again.
“‘Had enough Sledge?’ I asked as I pulled him up to eye level. He stared at me for a minute and then you know what he did?”
“What?” Camp replied.
“The nasty bugger spit right in my face. I ripped my handkerchief from around my neck and wiped off the vile, stinky, slime. For the first time all day, I was truly mad at this man. His eyes got big as saucers, as he waited for me to finish him off. I doubled up my right fist and buried it right in the center of his gut. I’ll never forget the look on his face.” Jon laughed. “I thought his eyes were gonna pop right out of his ugly head.
“‘You devil, look what you’ve done to me!’ he screamed and then he fell down on the street, holding his gut and moaning in pain. I thought about rearranging his face, but I decided to just hit him in the gut.”
“How thoughtful,” Camp said sarcastically.
“The sheriff came running over yelling at the wolfers. They were rolling around on the street and holding their guts. ‘Soon as you boys get to feeling better, I want you to saddle up and ride on out of here lock, stock, and barrel. If I ever see either one of you in this town again, I’ll throw your butts in jail.’
“I was kind of smiling as the boys got their lecture. All of a sudden the sheriff turned and gave me a stare that would kill a horse.
“‘Wipe that smile off your face, Stoudenmire!’ he barked.’Maybe this wasn’t your doin’, but you’re part of
it too, and I don’t like brawls in the middle of Fifteenth Street. Next time you cause any trouble ‘round here, your butt’s goin’ to jail!’
“I told him that I was sorry and it wouldn’t happen again if I could help it. He gave me this real mean stare for a minute and the walked back to the jail.
“Several folks in the crowd came up and patted me on the back and told me it was the best fight they had seen in a long time. One of them said I reminded him of my friend Wild Bill Hickock. That was a real compliment.
“I dusted myself off real good and picked up my hat. The two wolfers were still lying in the street and kind of rolling around. To tell you the truth, I kind of felt sorry for them, so I walked over to lend them a hand. I reached down and grabbed Sledge’s arm to help him up. But he was having no part of it.
“‘Get your stinking hands off me, Stoudenmire, I don’t need your damn help. And if I was you, I’d watch your backside. Next time it ain’t going to be no fistfight!’ His face looked like pure evil. I knew he meant it. I guess my plan to knock some sense into him didn’t work. I had to respect the guts of that nasty bugger. He was one wicked hombre. I also knew that his threat was not an idle one. I was sure this would not be the last time I tangled with Will Sledge and the next time it would be with guns.
“I thought about Will’s threats all night long as I laid in that boarding house in Cheyenne. I thought about a couple of close calls I’d had in the local saloons. Next morning I made a decision that would change my life forever. I decided to start packing. It was a tough decision; I had vowed that I would never carry a gun. But out in the real world, things start looking different. Leading the kind of life I was, always running into someone with a gun in his hand. For my own protection, I needed to start carrying.
“I walked over to the M & M gun shop in Cheyenne that morning and bought two pearl handled Army Colt 45 revolvers - same ones I got today. My days in the buffalo camp in Dakota Territory made a man out of me. My days in Cheyenne made a gunman out of me.”
Beer splashed on the table as two mugs slid across the oak table top. “Dinners will be up in five! Sorry for the hold up, it’s been a little hectic around here.” Sam had just arrived with a couple of refills. The empties clanged together as Sam hurried away.
“No problem Sam,” Jon shouted at the departing tender.
“What’s it like, Jon, being a gunman and all?”
“It ain’t easy, Camp. That’s why I’ve got my back against the wall now. I never know when the son, brother, or father of one of the men I’ve killed is going to show up and put a bullet in my head. Just like Jack McCall did to my good friend Wild Bill in Saloon #10 in Deadwood. I’ve got to be on my toes all the time.” Jon looked down as the foamy beer swirled slowly around in the thick glass mug.
“Every time I walk by an alley, I’m kind of leery. I don’t know if someone’s waiting there to shoot me. That’s why I walk down the middle of the street sometimes, so they can’t take me out from the alley. I’m always on guard; and I’m always on the move, trying to keep one step ahead of some swine’s bullet. I can never call anyplace home. Most respectable women don’t cotton to me much. I can’t blame them. What kind of husband and father would I be? Always on the run, always inches from death.”
“Libby’s respectable,” Camp said nervously.
“You bet your bottom dollar she is. But she’s different. She’s a strong woman, and she knows all the risks of being with someone like me. She’s willing to take them, but it’s real hard on her. I worry about that a lot.”
“You don’t paint a very pretty picture, Boss.” Camp flipped his shoestring tie nervously, surprised by the revelations from his hero.
“Yea I know, but it could be worse.”
“Worse?”
“I could be dead,”
“Ah, nobody could kill you Jon, you’re too good.”
“Nobody’s that good!” Jon’s eyes darted to the left as the swinging doors banged open. Two wranglers rushed in. “Just like that Camp, I have to watch everybody that comes in this place. I’m just never sure who’s out there or what will happen. It ain’t good.”
“You ever think of givin’ it up?”
“Yea, I was heading to my vineyard in California when I stopped in this God forsaken town.” Jon’s head tipped back as he took a swig of beer.
“Will you be safe there?”
“Pretty safe. Most people on the shoot, don’t like to cross the mountains. I should be alright there. I can quit carrying and start a new life.”
“I’ll be sorry to see you leave,” Camp said quietly, the thought of Jon’s moving on saddened the young stable hand.
“Thank you Camp, I appreciate that. And don’t worry, I’m not leaving for awhile. We still got that Faraday mess to clean up. And by the way young fella, I been meaning to tell you something.”
“What’s that?”
“You remind me of somebody,” Jon said directly. He leaned forward, folded hands and arms on the table pointing toward Camp.
“Oh yea, who’s that?” Camp squirmed in his seat a little, surprised by the direct attention.
“Me!” Jon replied, his eyes never left Camp.
“Well, uh, thank you Jon.” His face turned red with embarrassment.
“No, don’t thank me my friend, it’s a curse. I hear you shooting down at the stable every day. I see how quick you’ve become with a gun. It’s no good son. If you keep it up you’ll be a lonely frightened man. Always on the run. Never trusting anyone.”
“Don’t worry Jon. That’s not what I’m after. I...”
“I know, that’s what they all say, but I could talk my fool head off and it wouldn’t do any good. The day you decided to strap those six guns on, it was already too late. No one can tell you now, not even me. I just hope you have as few scrapes as possible along the way. And promise me you’ll stay on the side of the law.”
“Did you, Jon? Did you always stay on the side of the law?”
“Not always, son, not always. But I want better for you!”
Two plates of food hit the table as Sam arrived with dinner. Steam rose up from the juicy pork chops, grits and stewed tomatoes. The silverware rattled as Sam put the knives and forks next to their plates. Sam sat two cups of hot coffee on the oak table top. “Dinner’s served.”
“Thank you Sam. I could eat a horse.” Jon’s fingers slid through the handle on the coffee cup. He raised it up and pointed it toward Camp. “To you, my brave young friend. All the best to you!”
“Thank you Jon.”
He and Camp broke bread together in the far off desert saloon. Through the window, Jon could see the evening sun disappear behind the dark, foreboding landscape. The lantern flickered above their table in the darkening room. The talented piano player’s fingers danced over the ivory keys, accompanied by voices singing along with the popular melody, Timber Trail. Laughter, loud voices, occasional shouts of joy and dismay could be heard coming from the gambling tables. The large wood frame building literally vibrated with the sounds of life - a stark contrast to the shadow of death that lingered so close to this carefree scene.
Chapter 10
“Okay Jake, up and at ’em!” The sheriff frowned as he leaned on the heavy door waiting for the scruffy drunk to leave the cell.
“Alright Sheriff, I’m comin’.” The old drunk rubbed the stubble on his chin as he pulled his thin body up from the bunk. “The grub was good, thanks Sheriff.”
“You look a little dragged out Jake. Try not to get too roostered up today, okay?” The bars shook as Jon slammed the door shut and locked it. The door to the supply room swung open; Jon walked in to get fresh coffee.
“I’ll try Sheriff, I’ll sure try.” The small wooden gate next to Jon’s desk creaked open as Jake left the cell area.
“See you, Jake.” Ed looked up from his desk as Jake neared the front door. Jake staggered backward as the door swung open. Web Norton, Clive Cook, and Butch Canady came hurriedly in the jail.
Jake was wobbling; Web grabbed him by the arm to keep him from falling.
“Sorry old timer, we didn’t see you there.”
“No problem Web, those things happen.” Jake righted himself and hurried out, the door slammed behind him.
“Can I help you with something, Web?” Ed asked.
Web smiled nervously, surprised by Ed’s close proximity. “Uh, oh hello Ed, didn’t see you over there.”
Canady’s eyes scanned the room, like someone planning for a breakout on down the road.
“I know.” Ed looked impatient. “What can I do for you boys?”
“We’re here to see Zing.”
“I didn’t know you and Zing were friends, Web.” Ed’s eyes narrowed a little.
“That’s really none of your affair, Deputy.” Web fiddled nervously with his gold watch chain.
Canady frowned.
“Everything that happens in this jail is our affair Norton!” Jon said, joining the conversation. His leg bumped the wooden gate open. He walked over to the stove, yanked the top off the coffee pot and dumped in the fresh coffee.
“Ain’t no law against visiting a prisoner, Sheriff.” Canady looked dark and menacing as he spoke to the sheriff. “Besides, Zing and I go way back.”
“Make it quick, Canady. You got five minutes.”
“Five minutes? Hell you can’t do anything in five minutes!” Canady replied angrily.
“The judge got in late last night. We got a bail hearing in fifteen minutes. It takes ten minutes to walk down to the court house. So you’ve got five minutes. Take it or leave it.” There was a loud slam as Jon sat the pot back on the stove. He pushed the black iron door shut with his knee.
“Oh, the bail hearing’s in fifteen minutes huh...” Web interrupted. “I thought it was yesterday.”
