Devil Rising

by R. B. Conroy

  “What’d you do?” Jack asked.

  “I got off Babe and moved around behind some rocks. There were two shooters; I heard a Remington and a Winchester. I took one of ’em out. The other one got scared and rode off. I tracked them for awhile, but it looks like he flew the coop. His tracks headed west toward Tombstone. I guess he didn’t want to face Faraday, so he skedaddled on outa here.”

  “Just as good, now he can’t tell Faraday we found Little Bear’s body,” Ed said.

  “Yea, I know.”

  “Did you know the dead man?” Ed asked.

  “Nope, I never saw him before,” Jon replied. “‘They were probably a couple of hired guns from Tombstone. Keep an eye on things, Jack. Ed and I are goin’ over to the Coroner’s office.”

  “Okay Boss,” Jack replied.

  * * *

  Jon and Ed hurried over to the Jake Nussbaum’s office. Jon pounded on the door.

  “Come in,” a voice from within shouted.

  Jon carefully pushed the door open; he and Ed stepped in. Jake stuck his head out of the back room. “Oh hi Sheriff.” The coroner peeled the rubber glove off his right hand as he approached the two lawmen. His hand extended for a shake.

  “Got another one for you, Jake,” Jon said. He and Ed shook hands with the friendly coroner.

  “Oh really?” Jake replied.

  “Out by the canyon, near the large domed rock.” Jon frowned.

  “You know, I heard some rifle shots when I was riding into town. Just thought you were doing a little hunting or something,” the surprised coroner replied.

  “I wish. After you and Little Bear left, a couple of shooters tried to take me out. I got one of them. He’s layin’ out there in those rocks.”

  “Oh my, sorry to hear that. Are you okay?”

  “Yea, I’m fine,” Jon said. As usual the smell of embalming fluids permeated the little office. Jon’s eyes began to water.

  “I’ll run out and get him soon as I can,” Jake promised.

  “Just charge it to the county,” Jon said.

  Jake nodded and tipped his head to the left. “Come on back here for a minute.”

  The three men stepped into the back room. Little Bear’s body lay stiff on a long table in the center of the room. Jake walked over to a small metal table next to the body. The coroner slipped his hand back into the glove and pulled it tight with the other. He carefully picked something off the table, lifted it and showed it to the men.

  “Took this bullet out of the back of Little Bear’s head,” Jake said.

  Jon and Ed examined the bullet.

  “.38 caliber,” Ed said.

  “That’s right,” Jake replied.

  “Cimarron’s use .38 caliber bullets, Butch Canady carries Cimarrons,” Jon said as he rubbed his chin.

  “Only one problem,” Jake said as he looked over at Jon.

  “What’s that?” Jon replied, curious.

  “There’s a whole lot of guns that use .38 caliber shells. Canady’s a real bad actor, but this doesn’t make him the shooter.” Jake frowned.

  “Doesn’t eliminate him either,” Ed said as he carefully dabbed his watery eyes with his handkerchief.

  “Sure doesn’t,” Jon replied. “Thanks for the info Jake. We gotta be goin’.”

  Jon and Ed nodded as they hurried across the front room to the door; anxious to get away from the pungent odors of the coroner’s office. Jon quickly pushed the door shut behind him.

  “Whew!” the two men said in unison, their chests welled up as they breathed in the fresh out door air.

  “How’d you like to work in that all day?” Jon exclaimed.

  “Bout as bad as havin’ to look at that ugly sheriff’s picture all day,” Ed shouted.

  Both men joined in a big belly laugh. Jon playfully pushed Ed toward the jail.

  Chapter 19

  “Now once again, Butch. Just who were these men you hired to take care of our fine sheriff?” Alex Faraday asked as he pulled the curtain back on the front window.

  “Two friends of mine from down Tombstone way,” Canady replied. Alex was slumped down in the leather chair in front of the stone fireplace. He pulled out an ivory handled pocket knife from his jean pocket.

  “And you say they are dependable and very good shots?” Faraday said as he looked nervously out the front window.

  “That’s what I said, Alex. Give ’em a good look and they’ll take you out,” Butch said, as he fidgeted with his knife.

  “Well that’s good, that’s good,” Alex Brit replied. “We don’t need any failures at this point.”

  “Don’t worry, if they don’t get him, I will,” Canady said confidently.

  “Let’s hope you don’t have to do that. I would rather have him killed by strangers.” Alex dropped the curtain and walked over in front of the fireplace. As he gazed at the dancing flame, he contemplated the situation. He needed to eliminate Jon without any connection to him. He wanted to build his power base in the area as a respectable businessman. Any connection to the popular sheriff’s murder could make it difficult to gain the support of the folks. He also knew that an angry Jon Stoudenmire was a daunting foe indeed and if all else failed he may have to turn Canady loose on him.

  “I hear somethin’,” Canady said.

  “Oh yes, someone’s coming,” Alex hurried over and glanced out the window. “It’s Web,” he announced. “Maybe he has some news. Let’s go greet him, Butch.”

  Butch looked over at Alex as he pushed the blade shut with the palm of his hand and put the knife back in his pocket. He slowly stood up and followed the Englishman as Alex hurried through the corridor and out the front door.

  Web quickly dismounted, tied up and hurried toward Alex.

  “Tell me my dear man, what do we know?” the fast approaching Alex asked.

  The newly freed Web was almost out of breath. “Well they didn’t get him.” Web leaned against the door slowly getting his breath.

  “They didn’t what?” Alex screamed.

  “Some of the miners at the...uh...saloon said they’re ridin’ toward town today and heard several shots out by the canyon. A little while later Sheriff Stoudenmire rode into town from that direction.”

  “He what?”

  “I guess Jake Nussbaum rode out with his wagon a little later and returned with a dead body. Nobody knew the man.” Dreading the response, Web’s eyes went to the floor.

  “What kind of idiots do I have working for me?” Alex screamed. He wheeled around to confront the slowly approaching Canady. His bony finger shot toward the gunman. “I’m paying you one hell of a lot of money to kill people and this is what I get!” Faraday screamed, finger shaking.

  The fearless Canady’s eyes narrowed. “I know I got a job to do Alex, but this Stoudenmire’s a horse of a different color. It’s like he’s got nine lives or somethin’.”

  “That special election is on Saturday. Web here will win the election and I will then appoint Clive as sheriff. I want Stoudenmire dead in 48 hours; I don’t care how you do it. It has to be done!” The haughty Brit stormed by Canady.

  Faraday stopped by the door to his study, he turned back toward Canady. “48 hours! Do you hear me?” he shouted.

  “I hear you Faraday,” Butch replied as he spit on the parlor floor.

  Chapter 20

  “You got an extra pack horse in their Sonny?” Butch Canady asked.

  Busy shoeing, Camp looked up at Canady. He let the hoof slide gently to the ground and stood up. “Just a minute,” Camp said curtly. He hurried to the back of the stable to retrieve Faraday’s pack.

  Canady was leaning against the side of the stable door as Camp approached with the horse in tow.

  “Thought maybe you forgot about him,” Camp said, making conversation.

  “Naw, we just ain’t had a chance to come in and get ’em,” the stoic gunman replied.

  “That’ll be ten dollars please.”

  Canady slipped his hand into his jean pocket and
pulled out a ten dollar gold coin. He flipped it to Camp.

  Camp handed the reins to Butch.

  “Hear the sheriff had a close call yesterday,” Canady inquired as he grabbed the reins.

  “I guess word travels fast around here,” Camp said.

  “Yea, one of the boys was in town and heard about it,” Canady replied.

  “Sheriff’s fine, the lowlife missed, the other coward ran away.” The muscular young stable hand stared hard at Canady.

  “Lucky man,” Canady replied, as he spit on the ground. The gunman’s shoulders slumped as he mounted up and slid down in the saddle. “I kind of get the feelin’ you’re in cahoots with this sheriff.”

  “Maybe I am, so what?” a testy Camp replied.

  “So... that can be harmful to your health Sonny,” Canady replied.

  Unarmed, wearing his leather work apron, Camp stepped over near Canady’s horse. His face was red with anger. “Do me a favor Mister.”

  Canady’s eyes narrowed, his cheek bone twitched nervously as he replied, “What’s that?”

  “Don’t ever call me Sonny again!” Camp folded his hands into fists.

  Canady’s square dark face cracked into a nasty grin, “Now, now Son...”

  Camp lurched forward and moved his right arm up for a punch. Canady went for his gun like a flash; he drew it out and slammed the barrel hard against Camp’s face.

  Camp’s body fell against the side of the horse. Dazed and disoriented, he went down on one knee.

  Canady raised his arm again and bashed the metal cylinder against the back of Camp’s head. He fell hard to the ground and lay moaning, disoriented by the hard blow.

  “Bad move Sonny, now go tell that sheriff of yours to put his badge away and fight me man to man. I’ll be in at sundown,” Canady said, a brownish spit ball splashed next to the Camp. His horse pranced nervously as Butch looked down at the battered youngster. He reined her around and galloped rapidly toward Canady’s mansion, pack in tow.

  Camp struggled over to the hitching post. He pulled himself up to a sitting position, leaning against the post. His eye was swollen and throbbing, his head ached horribly. He staggered to his feet and headed for the center of town. His knees wobbly, he stopped and leaned against a tree. He glanced up and saw Babe in front of the Barbee. He pushed away from the tree and staggered on. His legs were shaky but he struggled up the stairs in front of the saloon. Suddenly, he fell forward, his hands grabbed hold of the batwing doors. He hung face down between the doors as he swung forward into the saloon.

  * * *

  Jon’s eyes darted to the door. “My God!” he shouted as he rushed over. Libby screamed. Jon caught the young stable hand before he fell and sat him gently on the floor of the saloon.

  “What happened, Camp?” Jon said.

  “Ca... Canady came in to g...get their pack horse, we h...had words. T....Then the coward pistol whipped me. He wa...wants to meet you at s....sundown in the st....street.”

  “Sam, take Camp down to Doc’s,” Libby ordered.

  Sam quickly took off his apron. He hurried over and dropped down on one knee next to Camp. “You think you can get down to Doc’s okay if I help you?” the concerned bartender asked.

  “Yea, I th...think so,” Camp replied weakly.

  Jon slid his arm out from under Camp as Sam’s went under. Sam pulled him to his feet; they headed for Doc’s office.

  Jon was furious.

  Libby squeezed his forearm. “Let’s go sit down for a minute.”

  “Sorry Libby, I got a rat to kill,” Jon said as he started for the door.

  Libby pulled hard on his arm. “Please Jon listen to me!” she pleaded. “It’s a trap. Canady came to town and pistol whipped Camp on purpose. He knew you wouldn’t wait until sundown. They’re waiting on you, Jon. As soon as you get out there, they’ll open fire.”

  Jon stood still for a second, his eyes glazed over with anger. As strong as this rage could be, Jon always felt he could control it. Libby was right, it was a trap.

  “Call their bluff, Jon,” Libby spoke aggressively. “When Sam gets back, I’ll send him down to Faraday’s. He can tell them that you’ll be ready at sundown. They’ll ride out and tell Faraday and Canady and you’ll get your fight. Fair and square, right here in town.”

  Jon looked over at Libby, “You’re right,” he said quietly. “As bad as I want to kill that nasty snake, I’ve got to wait. We’ll have our fight at sundown.”

  Libby smiled warmly at her powerful lover.

  “Thanks,” Jon said as he pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s three o’clock; I’m going down to the jail and meet with Ed and Jack.” Jon tipped his hat to Libby and hurried out of the saloon.

  * * *

  Butch Canady’s dark eyes squinted into the sun. “Should be here any time now,” he shouted to nearby Web Norton. Both men were waiting to ambush Jon in the large rocks near the mansion. Two hands took aim across the road.

  “You sure he’s comin’?” Web sighed. “It’s been quite awhile.”

  “From what I’ve seen of this sheriff, when he gets mad, he kind of goes off. And nothin’ makes him madder than seeing’ one of his friends get hurt. He should be comin’ shortly.”

  From where they were sitting, the men had a bird’s eye view of the trail. Plenty of time to set their sights.

  Suddenly, hooves could be heard pounding off in the distance. “He’s comin!” Canady shouted. “Get ready boys!” he commanded. “He’s on his way.”

  Canady lifted his rifle up to eye level and took a dead bead on the trail, some hundred yards out. The others did the same.

  The sound of the hooves got closer; soon a horse and rider were in sight.

  “Wait ’til about a hundred yards,” Butch commanded.

  The rider shouted out, “Don’t shoot, it’s me Slim Wilson.” He held his hands high above his head.

  “What the...” Canady yelped. “Hold your fire!” He slid off the rock as he recognized the approaching rider. He dropped to the ground and ran out to greet Wilson.

  The rider approached rapidly, hands held high.

  “It’s okay Slim, we know it’s you,” Canady shouted. “Put your damn hands down.”

  “Okay, okay. Just didn’t wanta get my head blown off,” Slim said nervously.

  “We had a greetin’ party here for the sheriff, what’re you doin’ out here?” Canady demanded.

  “That’s what I’m here about; I gotta message from the sheriff.”

  “Oh yea! What is it?”

  “Sam came down to the saloon and said Sheriff Stoudenmire would meet you out in the street at sundown. Just like you said.” Slim waited anxiously for the gunman’s reply.

  “Hmmm... that sheriff’s just full of surprises.” Canady scowled.

  “What you gonna do now?” Web asked, approaching from behind.

  “I’m gonna meet ’em at sundown, what else?” Canady snapped. “I never really liked this ambush idea anyhow, it’s a coward’s way.”

  “Now you got your chance Butch.” Web grinned at the nasty gun.

  “Yea, I know. I been itchin’ to kill him ever since that...” Canady’s voice trailed off, too embarrassed to mention the beating.

  “It’s four thirty Butch. We got an hour’s ride.”

  “Yea, let’s get back to the mansion. I want to heat my six guns up a little. Then we’ll ride.”

  Norton nodded.

  * * *

  The door to the jail slammed shut. Ed and Jack hurried in.

  “Got the word out Jon, told everybody to stay in and get the kids off the street,” Ed said.

  “Thanks fellas,” Jon said, feet on the desk. He slid fresh bullets into the cylinders of his Army Colts as he sat slumped in his chair. Jon was in the darkness now, anxiously awaiting the pain and violence of the coming exchange with Butch Canady. Constant beatings by a cruel father had prepared him well for such events. He was in his element now, there would be no quarter asked, no quarter given. />
  “It’s five thirty, Jon. Faraday and Cook just rode into the saloon. Canady and Norton weren’t with them,” Ed said.

  “They came in to see me get killed.” Jon scowled. “Web will probably come with Canady. They’ll all meet up at Faraday’s.

  “Tell me, Ed, what are the folks out there thinkin’ of Faraday and his boys these days?” Jon asked, his eyebrows raised a little as he waited for the answer.

  “From what I hear, they still like Faraday and Cook okay. Folks love havin’ that saloon in town. He’s got more girls than Libby and he brings in more entertainment,” Ed replied. “Also, some of them think you’re putting the heat on Alex to help Libby out at the Barbee.”

  “Hmmm...that’s interesting. What about Canady?”

  “Nobody likes Canady much. But they accept him cause he works for Faraday. They think Alex brought him to town to help protect his money.”

  “What about the murders of Jed and Little Bear?” Jon asked, somewhat annoyed.

  “Most of the folks think Little Bear killed Jed and then ran off. They don’t know about the body, remember?” Ed grinned at his big boss.

  “Yea, I guess we have kind of kept things quiet. And to tell you the truth, I kind of like it that way for the time being. We need more evidence any how.” Jon took his legs off the desk and stood up. “Why don’t we head on down to the Barbee, Ed. We’ll set up there.”

  “I’ll watch the shop,” Jack said.

  The door closed behind them, the two lawmen ambled toward the Barbee. As they walked slowly down the dusty street, Jon’s mind went to his vineyard in Southern California. It was soothing to think of his distant paradise at times like this. His mind pictured the beautiful vineyard nestled in a valley at the base of the Sierra Madre Mountains. Row after row of lush green vines being pulled downward by shiny bunches of deep purple grapes. All glistening in the morning sun and warmed by the soft ocean breezes. Just like heaven! he thought. I’ll settle there when my fight’n days are over.

  A familiar voice broke the trance.