by R. B. Conroy
Jon could see Cook out of the corner of his eye. “What about you Cook, you want another drink?” Jon’s eyes looked hard at the Englishman.
“No need for gun play here Sheriff,” Cook replied, he turned away from the bar toward Jon. His shooting hand hung loose at his side. Nearby patrons began to mumble and move away.
“You snakes listen close. You aren’t ever going to take over this town. This town belongs to the people and I’m the law around here!” Jon was very angry, his mood darkened as he spoke. “Worse yet, you’ve insulted the woman I love!”
Cook’s eyes were as big as saucers, unaware that Jon had heard his comment to Libby. Perspiring heavily, he pushed his back against the bar and slowly slid sideways away from Fuller. The frightened Brit carefully folded his arms on his chest. Fuller couldn’t see Cook.
Sam threw his towel in the sink and moved down to the end of the bar. Libby and her friends moved quickly to the back of the saloon, isolating the three men.
Fuller stepped away from the bar; the evil gunman spit on the floor as he spoke, “That whore girl worth dyin’ for, Sheriff?”
Jon’s eyes went black at the drunken man’s comment. “You’re dead meat, Fuller, the talking’s over!”
Fuller’s eyes narrowed, his legs spread apart. “Consider this payback for Black Rock Creek,” the horrid man threatened. Soaked with whiskey, he showed no fear.
Jon stared right through the nasty gunman.
Fuller stared back; his thin face was full of hate. Suddenly his bony hand reached for his gun. He drew.
Jon’s hands went to his Colts like lightning; the guns flew out of their holsters. He pulled both triggers, the bullets blasted into Fuller’s gut. The crowd screamed in shock at the gory sight.
“Ugggh! Gawd, I’m hit!” Fuller shrieked. His body slammed against the bar. Blood squirted from the holes in his gut and splashed on his shiny boots. His face was white, eyes full of terror. “Damn you!” he yelled. “Damn you!” He staggered around and fell head first on the floor. His head cracked as it hit hardwood. His six gun blasted harmlessly into the air. His body jerked violently a couple times and fell still, smoke spewed from the ugly belly holes.
Jon hurried over, his foot pushed against the dead man’s body. Fuller rolled over on his back; his lanky arms fell limp to the side. The crowd gasped.
Jon turned left toward Cook, he rushed toward the snobby Englishman. Cook’s hands raised in submission as Jon approached.
“Common bargirl, huh?” His gun’s warm barrel, still smoking, pressed against Cook’s neck. Jon wanted to rip this man apart, but he held back. His fingers wrapped around Clive’s shoestring tie. He yanked Cook away from the bar and pushed him toward the swinging doors.
“How ’bout some fresh air, Clive?” Jon said as he put his six gun away. Cook stumbled and fought to stay on his feet as Jon pushed him backward. Full of rage, Jon slammed the big man through the swinging door. Cook’s big body stumbled down the rickety steps and crashed onto the dirt road. Jon reached down and yanked the man to his feet again. Cook’s feet pushed against the dirt street as he struggled to get up. With a Herculean effort, Jon lifted the large man up, carried him over and threw him into a nearby water trough. Water splashed over the sides, as he pushed the nasty Brit under the water. Jon pulled him up, Clive’s head popped out of the water. He was gasping for breath; the devil was driving Jon now. He saw injustice with these men; the darkness was coming. He screamed at Clive Cook, “You in the habit of insulting ladies, Cook?” Beads of sweat were dripping from Jon’s forehead. “Answer me Cook! NOW!”
Drops of water fell off of the beaten man’s oval face. Eyes wide, he whispered almost inaudibly. “No?”
“SAY YOU’RE SORRY!” Jon screamed, his big arms pulling violently on the shoe string tie. Cook’s veins were bulging on his neck; his eyes were popping out of his head as he tried to speak. “I’m S...s...sorry.” He barely choked it out.
Jon leaned hard backward, his boots pushed against the bottom of the trough. With a powerful effort he yanked the big Brit out of the water. Jon pushed the big man, he stumbled toward his horse. “Get the hell outa here Cook, before I kill you!”
The beaten man staggered over to his waiting mount and struggled into the saddle. He hung to the side of the horse’s neck as he rode slowly out of town.
Jon’s arm hung at his side as he stepped back from the trough in a trance. Libby rushed onto the street and over to her man, her small delicate fingers squeezed his bicep.
“It’s okay Jon,” Libby said tenderly as her lithe body moved up against him. He could feel her warm heart beating rapidly against his chest; his arms moved around her tiny waist, as the two lovers embraced. Only Libby knew the pain Jon was feeling; she squeezed him tightly.
“Thank you, darlin’,” Jon said softly. “I needed that!”
“Bravo Sheriff, you really let that Fuller have it,” a voice from the gathering crowd shouted. Several people pushed around the couple, as they patted Jon on the back. He grabbed Libby’s shoulders and gently pushed her back. “I better greet the folks,” he said.
Libby smiled. “I guess so,” she replied as she slipped away through the pressing crowd. Jon turned to face the crowd.
“‘Preciate it, folks,” Jon said humbly. “This man was a menace and I did what I had to do. But now it’s over, so let’s all go on home.”
Camp pushed through to the opening in front of Jon. “You okay Boss?’
“Guess so Camp,” Jon replied as picked up his gun and dropped it in the holster. “Go tell the coroner to pick up the body. I’ll meet you at the jail.” Jon frowned. “I think we’re going to have some visitors shortly.”
Camp nodded.
Another killing; when will it all stop? Jon thought. The agony on the dying man’s face kept running through Jon’s mind as he walked toward the jail.
Chapter 14
Jon grabbed a couple of cartridges out of his desk drawer and dropped them in the empty chambers on his six gun. He spun the cylinder and snapped it into place; he eased the ivory handled gun back into its holster.
The front door to the jail creaked open. “Howdy Sheriff, needin’ any help round here?” said the friendly voice.
“Well, Jack, how in the heck are ya? Good to see you again! Come over here and sit down,” Jon said, as his hand motioned toward the chair. The two shook hands as Jack plopped down in a chair.
“How are you feeling?”
“Pretty darn good, thank you.” Jack smiled. “The Doc gave me a clean bill a health. If you’ve got work, I’m ready.”
Jon’s hand reached in the open drawer. “Here you go, Deputy, been holding it for you ‘til you got back.” The metal badge rattled as Jon tossed it on the desk in front of Jack.
Jack snatched it up and quickly pinned it on his calico shirt.
Suddenly the door flew open again and Ed Morgan rushed in.
“Alex Faraday and his boys just came bustin’ into town. They look real mad and they’re all packin’. Faraday told me he wants to see the sheriff right away,” Ed said anxiously.
“Where’s he at?” Jon asked.
“Down at his saloon.”
Jon pushed up on the arms of his swivel chair; he jumped up and hurried over to the gun cabinet. He reached in and grabbed a .50-.70 Remington and tossed it over to Jack.
“Let’s go,” Jon ordered.
The three lawmen hurried out the door and headed for Faraday’s. Jon’s hand went up, they stopped in the street.
“Spread out,” he ordered.
Ed and Jack moved to each side of Jon, several feet away. Four horses were strapped to the hitching post out front.
Jon turned to Ed. “Looks like he brought the whole gang to the party.”
Ed smiled.
Jon yanked his gun out of its holster, pointed the barrel to the sky and squeezed the trigger. There were two loud blasts as smoke filled the air. The horses whinnied and pranced nervously. Muffled screams could be heard in
side the saloon as the music stopped. It got dead quiet.
Jon’s eyes searched the front of the building for any sign of activity. Jack held tightly to his rifle. Ed, always cool under pressure, stood still in the street.
After several minutes, four thin fingers appeared on the outside of the swinging door. The door pushed open; Alex Faraday walked out onto the wooden walkway. Dressed to kill, he fidgeted nervously with the ring on his right hand as he spoke. “So good to see you gentlemen and just what are we celebrating with all the gunfire?” the pompous Brit asked sarcastically.
“Ed here tells me you want to see me, Alex,” Jon said coolly.
“That’s what I like about you Sheriff, you get right to the point,” he replied.
“I got things to do Faraday, spit it out!” Jon barked.
“Why yes, of course.” Faraday went on, “I understand that one of my ranch hands was killed in cold blood today at the Barbee.”
“Ranch hand my foot, Zing was a killer and you know it. He drew first; it was self defense,” Jon said angrily.
“Is that so? Well my witness saw something completely different,” the uppity Brit replied, nose in the air.
“I really don’t give a damn what your witness saw, Alex,” Jon shouted.
Faraday tipped his head. Cook, Canady and Norton spread out behind Faraday on the walkway.
Malone cocked his rifle.
Jon eyes narrowed as he walked over and stuck his nose in Clive’s face. “Maybe your witness would like to say that in front of me,” Jon said menacingly, glaring at Cook. Clive looked away from Jon; he said nothing.
Jon backed down to the street still glaring at the humiliated Cook. “You’ve got no witness, there’s nothing to investigate, Alex. Zing went first; the whole town saw it.”
Faraday looked disgustedly at Cook; he turned back to the sheriff. “How about trying to drown my courageous friend here?” he said sarcastically.
“Clive insulted Miss Thompson. I’m sure that even you wouldn’t approve of that Alex,” Jon said.
“Well, I guess I have never been one for insulting the ladies,” Faraday reluctantly replied.
“We’ve got a bigger problem here,” Jon said, quickly changing the subject. “Jed Orton was murdered today.”
“Yes, yes, I heard about that. Have you found that thieving Indian yet?”
“No, seems he disappeared,” Jon replied.
“Hmmm, that’s interesting. He must have run off. Well, regardless, the other commissioners and I met briefly today; we are planning a special election two weeks from today to replace Orton. I suggest you get the announcement out as soon as possible.”
“Your announcement will be out plenty fast enough Faraday!” Jon barked at the haughty Englishman. “And I’m still investigating Jed’s death, and right now, nobody’s off the table. I want you and your boys to stay in county ‘til I’m done. If you try to leave, I’ll have you arrested!”
“Why that’s ridiculous, you can’t do that my fine man. We’ve done nothing to deserve such restrictions. It’s obvious to everyone that Little Bear killed Orton, you have no right--”
“You heard me Alex,” Jon interrupted the haughty Brit.
Indignant, Faraday’s face turned red with anger as his fingers continued to fidget with his gold ring. He glared at Jon. “Election is in two weeks, no later! Let’s go boys!” The four men hurried toward their horses.
Jon stepped forward; he grabbed Butch Canady firmly by the arm. Startled, Canady’s square evil face turned and looked hard at Jon. “You’re not messing with greenhorns this time, Butch.” The corners of Jon’s mouth broke into a smile as he spoke to the heartless killer.
Canady yanked his arm free. The four men quickly mounted up and rode out of town.
“Follow them as far as Jed’s place, Jack,” Jon ordered. “See what you can find out. I think they’re knee deep in Jed’s murder.”
“Will do, Boss.” Jack smiled, happy to be working. He mounted up and quickly rode out of town.
Jon looked over at Ed. “Been a long one, partner, how ’bout some grub?”
“Thought you’d never ask,” Ed replied.
The two lawmen pushed the door open as they headed for the bar. Jon looked up and saw Libby step out of her room. She hurried down the spiral oak staircase to greet him.
Jon stepped on the rail and leaned on the bar; Ed moved in next to him.
“Evening Sam,” Jon announced.
Surprised by the sound of Jon’s voice, Sam turned quickly around. “Well hello Jon! Sorry I didn’t see you come in.” Sam set two shot glasses on the bar and quickly poured the two men a drink.
Jon and Ed downed their shots. Libby arrived and put her arm in Jon’s. “Good evening,” she said softly.
A big smile broke out on Jon’s face, “Evenin’, Darlin’,” Jon replied, eyes twinkling.
“Got a minute?” she asked.
“Always my dear,” Jon said with a smile. Her hand slid down his arm and grasped his hand. Her slim figure effortlessly negotiated the tables and chairs as she led him to their corner table.
Jon grabbed the back of the oak chair, Libby sat down. Jon sat across from her, back to the wall.
“What’s up?” he asked.
Libby leaned forward talking quietly. “One of my regular customers was over at Faraday’s Saloon today when Alex and his gang rode in. He was sitting at the end of the bar. The gang sat pretty close to him and didn’t pay him much heed. After a couple of drinks they started jabbering quite a bit. Canady said he was itching to take you out. He heard Faraday say that something has to be done about that sheriff.”
“Hmmm, doesn’t surprise me.” Jon grimaced.
“I think Zing Fuller’s death kind of frightened them,” Libby replied. “They’re scared and they think you’re a problem; they want you out of the way.”
“Sounds like they’re getting desperate,” Jon replied.
“I’m worried Jon, they’re dangerous men. I have awful thoughts all the time!” she said.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little face, Libby. I’ve faced tougher hombres than these before.” Jon smiled, put his hand on the side of her face and gently stroked her cheek. “I’ll be fine.”
“Do you think Little Bear killed Jed Orton?” Libby asked, wanting to change the subject.
“Not sure. I found pieces of black cotton on some of the velvet mesquites by his cabin.”
“Canady?” Libby said quickly. “He always wears black.”
“Yes I know, but I can’t prove it yet. I got Jack trailing him right now.”
“I hope you find something out. How about some dinner? I’ve got lamb chops and dressing tonight.”
“It smells great!” Jon said.
“I’ll invite Ed to join you.”
“Sounds good, Baby.”
Chapter 15
Jack rode comfortably behind Faraday and his men so as not to be noticed. Suddenly he pulled hard on the reins and came to a quick stop. He looked ahead; the men had stopped at the fork in the rode near Jed Orton’s place.
Jack rubbed the horse’s neck to keep him calm as he quietly rose up and dismounted. He grabbed the reins and headed for cover in a clump of Joshua trees near the road. Jack looked through the branches toward the fork in the road. He saw Faraday and his men talking and pointing at the woods where Orton was killed. Butch Canady jumped off his horse and ran into the woods. The other men stayed put, looking around nervously. A few minutes later, Canady ran out of the woods with something in his hand. He held it up to the other men. Some hundred yards away, Jack strained to see what it was.
Canady’s head was moving as his explained his find to the other men. Jack pulled some twigs apart to get a better look. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like a spur. Canady had a habit, as some men did, of engraving his initials on just about everything he owned. Vagabonds like Canady were easy game for robbers, their initials were a way to claim their goods later. If it was a spur Canady was ho
lding, it may have gotten caught in the thick brush and ripped off during the fatal beating of Jed Orton. It would be damning evidence if found by the law.
Suddenly, Jack’s horse leaped into the air. A sidewinder slithered across the clearing, frightening his horse. She whinnied loudly, ears flicked; her hind legs stepped back toward the road. Jack tried desperately to calm the terrified charger, but to no avail. She backed toward the road.
Jack was now out in the road, in full view of the men as he struggled with the horse. He was grabbing for the reins, trying to mount the panicky steed. He saw Norton pull his Winchester out of its holster and level the powerful rifle at him, as he struggled mightily to get his foot in the stirrup.
Two shots rang out. Frightened by the loud noise, Norton’s horse reared and danced nervously in the road; he couldn’t set for another shot.
The first bullet whizzed by Jack’s head. The second bullet hit the saddle horn, blowing it to bits. Lead flying, Jack struggled to mount up. His frightened horse finally stood still, Jack hopped aboard and rode quickly back to town.
Norton, atop his jumpy steed, tried to get off another shot; but it was too late. He gave momentary chase and then retreated.
Chapter 16
The fork clanked as Jon tossed it on the empty plate. He patted his belly. “Pretty darn good lamb chops,” he said. He lifted his cigar up to his lips, took one more big drag and coughed up some pretty good smoke rings. He snuffed it out in the metal ashtray.
“Finally got a couple good ones.” Ed laughed, squinting through the thick smoke.
“I get lucky every once in awhile.” Jon smiled at his old friend. “Ready to go?”
Ed nodded.
The two men stood up and headed for the door. Jon smiled as he nodded at Libby as she watched play at a distant Keno table. “See you tomorrow, Darlin’,” Jon shouted.
Libby smiled warmly, too ladylike to shout good-bye across the room.
The batwing doors popped open, and the two lawmen descended the steps to the dusty street.
“Let’s straighten things up at the jail and call it a day,” Jon ordered.
