Devil Rising

by R. B. Conroy

  “Howdy Jon,” Sam shouted as he and Ed approached the bar and moved quickly to the end.

  Sam slid a shot of Early Times in front of them.

  “Thank you Sam,” Jon said. The patrons got quiet as the music died, all eyes were on Jon.

  “No need to be so quiet,” Jon said as he looked around the room. “Just got me a snake to kill, that’s all. No need for worry!” Jon raised his shot to the crowd and smiled. “Bottoms up!” he said as he downed the shot. Many in the crowd tipped their glasses to Jon, conversation began again; the piano started to play.

  Libby strolled over from the gambling tables. She looked gorgeous in her dark blue gown and pearl necklace.

  “How are you doing, Jon?” she said as she sat down next to him.

  “I’m ready to go,” Jon replied confidently. His senses were on high alert; he couldn’t wait for the fight.

  “Do you think he’ll show?” she asked.

  “Yea, he’ll show,” Jon said as his eyes looked into his empty shot glass. “He thinks he’s the best. Plus a man like him feels no fear, because he doesn’t feel anything. The thrill of killing somebody is what drives him. Taking me out will make him feel good for a little while, that’s all he wants.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be fighting him, being sheriff and all,” Libby said quietly, tears forming in her lovely green eyes.

  Jon smiled; he raised his hand and tenderly stroked her cheek. “You know me better than that, Libby, I’ve got to fight him. It’s for the town and for the people and try not to worry; everything will be fine.”

  “I know it will,” Libby replied. She smiled bravely.

  “Canady’s comin’!” a voice shouted from out in the street. People began to scurry about. Jon glanced through the doors. The steady beat of Butch and Norton’s horses could be heard out front. All dressed in black, Canady looked straight ahead as he and Norton rode slowly past the Barbee.

  “They’re headin’ for Faraday’s,” Camp said. “It’s almost sundown. It won’t be long now!”

  * * *

  Alex Faraday fiddled nervously with his gold cuff links as he awaited Canady’s arrival. He and Cook were sitting at their usual spot on the mezzanine.

  “For God’s sake Clive, say something.” He was annoyed at the lack of conversation by his old friend.

  “Not much to say, Boss,” Cook replied.

  “Not much to say? My dear man, we are about to kill the most famous sheriff in the southwest and you can’t think of anything to say?” Alex was incredulous.

  Cook frowned and looked down at the table.

  “Well, tell me this Clive, do you think we’re doing the right thing?” Faraday pressed.

  Cook looked up at his boss. “We don’t have much choice.”

  “Yes, we do have to kill him, but then we still have to get Web elected. Will the townspeople turn on us?” Faraday nervously bit on his pipe.

  “I don’t think so; it’s going to be a fair fight. No one can accuse us of bushwhacking our fine sheriff.”

  “Well yes... yes, that’s a good point,” he replied nervously.

  Suddenly, shouts could be heard coming from out in the street.

  “What on earth is that, Clive?”

  “Sounds like Butch and Web are here.” Cook pivoted in his chair; his eyes went to the front door. A black glove appeared on the top of the door, Canady walked slowly in, Web was right behind.

  “Butch!” Clive shouted.

  Canady’s eyes went up to the mezzanine; he nodded and walked toward the stairs.

  Alex watched Canady approach the table. “He has a scary look about him,” he whispered to Cook, “and those eyes are pure evil.”

  Butch and Web arrived at the table and took a seat. Canady slumped down in his chair, his face hidden under his hat.

  “We need to talk, Butch,” Faraday said.

  “Okay, then talk,” Butch replied, his shadowy face looking dark and menacing.

  “I realize you have a difficult task in front of you my dear man, but...”

  “Cut the crap Alex, just spit it out,” Canady snapped.

  Alex glowered at Canady. “Okay Butch, I’ll cut the crap! I’ve invested a fortune in this area, with my estate, this saloon and other holdings. If Stoudenmire is able to implicate us in the deaths of Jed Orton and Little Bear; we could all go to jail, or worse yet, be hung. Our plan to dominate the gambling and prostitution in the southwest will go up in smoke. The sheriff must be stopped and it’s your job to stop him!” Alex was angry, seething from Canady’s insult.

  Canady’s black eyes shot back at him. “I know what I gotta do Alex, I’m the best. Just have the money ready, five hundred dollars.”

  “What?” Alex exclaimed. “I never bargained for this! Are you crazy?”

  “You heard me; pay it or I’m ridin’ outa here,” Butch said calmly.

  Alex’s face was flush with anger, but he had no choice. He needed Stoudenmire dead and Butch was one of the few men who could do it. “Alright! Alright! Five hundred it is.” His pipe rattled as he tossed it on the oak table and slumped back in his chair. “That sheriff must be killed,” he said quietly.

  “I need a drink,” Canady said. He stood and walked down to the bar. The patrons watched quietly as the notorious gunman maneuvered his way to the end of the bar. The bartender slid a glass of Scotch, his favorite, in front of him. He downed the shot, slammed the thick glass on the bar and demanded another.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, preparations were being made at the Barbee. Jon and Ed were at the bar talking.

  “Watch my backside out there, okay?” Jon said directly.

  “No problem, Boss, I was plannin’ on it,” Ed replied.

  “Faraday wants me out of the way real bad, I think he’ll have a second shooter somewhere. I got the street covered. Check the roof tops for me.”

  Ed nodded. Jon smiled at his trusted friend.

  The sun was almost down. Jon’s mood was darkening with the desert sky. He thought of Jed Orton, a fine and good man, killed for no reason. He thought of his friend Little Bear, gunned down by a heartless killer. He could feel himself getting angrier and angrier at Alex Faraday, Butch Canady, and the rest of that rat’s nest. He thought of the attempts on Jack Malone’s life and the awful beating of his young friend and cohort Camp Wilson. Soon, Butch Canady would be dead; Jon had no doubts about that. As much as he loathed the killing and violence, he lived for these moments.

  Chapter 21

  Inside Faraday’s Saloon, Butch Canady stood alone with his thoughts. His thin fingers surrounded the thick glass; he downed the last shot of Scotch. He stepped back from the bar and tied down. He raised his six guns slightly and dropped them loose in the holster. His eyes went up to the Mezzanine. Alex Faraday nodded at him as he stood up. Canady walked slowly toward the swinging doors; everyone in the saloon sat quiet.

  Faraday and the boys walked quickly to the second story balcony to watch the showdown from above. Canady stopped at the doors, his eyes scanned the dusty street. It was sundown, plenty of light for a fight, but no glare. He pulled his black gloves tight and pushed the door open.

  There were shouts out in the street as the gunman emerged. Butch was ready; it was his chance to kill yet another man. He had no doubts he would prevail, he had fought the best. The wooden steps creaked as he stepped out on the street.

  * * *

  Jon heard the commotion out on the street. “Sounds like he’s comin’,” Sam said.

  Jon’s head tipped back as he downed his final shot. He pulled the metal Sheriff’s badge loose and dropped it on the bar. “I’m off duty,” he said. He pulled out his pearl handled Colts and spun the cylinders out of habit, knowing they were fully loaded. Libby smiled from the end of the bar; he nodded and smiled back at his lovely lady. No time for sentimentality, she stayed her distance. Jon walked toward the street.

  “Kill the bastard!” one man shouted, followed by several yea, yeas! Shouts of good luck reverber
ated throughout the saloon. Jon stared straight ahead as he pushed through the swinging doors. Ed wasn’t far behind. The patrons rushed over for a better look.

  Jon stepped deliberately down on Pecos Street; Ed hurried down the walkway toward the alley.

  The wood frame buildings cast long shadows across the street as Canady walked slowly forward, stopped and turned toward Jon. They were now about three hundred feet apart. Jon glanced up at Faraday and Cook on the balcony; he looked over and saw Ed in the open alley way looking high. A small puff of dust flew up as Canady spat tobacco on the street.

  The two warriors walked slowly toward each other down Pecos Street. At fifty feet, both men stopped, their legs spread apart. The crowd was stone quiet.

  Jon stared through the shadows at Canady. Both men stood perfectly still, any unnecessary movements could start the lead flying before they had their say.

  “I’m gonna take all of you today, Jon, it’s a shame.” A sly grin broke out on Butch’s square dark face. His hands hung loose over his guns. “All you had to do was mind your own business, and you just couldn’t do it!”

  “You talk too much, Butch! Make your move!” Jon’s anger grew as he looked over at the nasty varmint. This man needs killin’! he thought.

  Canady’s eyes narrowed. A nearby horse reared up and whinnied, temporarily distracting the men. Butch went for his guns.

  Jon’s six guns flew out of their holsters. Yellow flames shot from the barrels, as two bullets from Jon’s six guns blasted into Canady’s gut. His skinny body blew backward and slammed against a railing. The crowed screamed as blood squirted from the holes in Canady’s stomach. Jon rushed forward through the smoke for a better look.

  Canady, struggling mightily to stay on his feet, lifted one of his six guns waist high for a shot.

  He was too slow, another shot from Jon’s Colt blasted into the gnarly gunman’s chest. His body spun violently backward over the wood rail and he slammed face down on the other side. His gun fired harmlessly into the dusty street. Brownish red blood streamed out from under him. The evil man’s body jerked a couple of times and fell still. The killer was dead.

  A shot rang out from near the General Store. Jon ducked as a bullet whizzed by his head. He saw a man standing on the second floor porch of the store.

  Ed took dead aim and blasted away at the culprit. The man jumped over the wood banister, as his rifle fell to the street. Ed had shot the rifle out of the would-be assassin’s hand.

  Still enraged, Jon ran after the escaping man. It was a foot race. The man headed for the Mesa behind the store with Jon in close pursuit. Suddenly the man slipped on some loose gravel and stumbled. Jon dove on the fallen man, grabbed hold of the handkerchief around his neck and yanked him to his feet. He doubled his fist and blasted the varmint hard to the jaw. Screaming in pain, the man fell to one knee.

  “I’ve had enough!” The man’s arms covered his head as he begged Jon not to hit him again.

  “Jon!” an approaching Ed shouted.

  Once again the sound of his good friend’s voice kept him from administering more punishment.

  Jon pulled back and took a close look at the man. He was shocked to see Slim Wilson. “What are you doing here, Slim? You’re no killer.”

  “Sorry Jon, I had to do it. Faraday told me if I didn’t kill you, he’d kill me!” a somber Slim Wilson replied.

  “You fool!” Jon said angrily as he let loose of the kerchief. “Take him to jail Ed and book him for attempted murder.”

  Ed pulled Slim’s arms behind him and cuffed him. By now a large crowd had formed in the street. Jon looked up at the balcony at Faraday’s saloon; it was empty. Faraday and his boys had flown the coop. Distant hoof beats could be heard out in the mesa.

  “They can run, but they can’t hide,” Jon said under his breath.

  Ed grimaced and pushed Slim toward the jail.

  Libby pushed through the gathering crowd and hurried over to her man.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yea, I’m doing okay,” Jon replied.

  “Was that Slim Wilson Ed was taking to jail?” she asked.

  “Sure was. He tried to kill me,” Jon replied.

  “That’s not like Slim. I guess you never know.” Teary eyed, Libby looked up at him. “I’m glad you’re okay; I better go, I got work to do.” She smiled warmly, turned and started to leave.

  Big Jon gently grabbed her arm, she stopped and looked back. “Love you Baby,” Jon said tenderly. She kissed two fingers and touched his cheek and then faded into the crowd.

  “Forget something, Sheriff?” an apron clad Sam shouted as he pushed his way through the crowd and pinned the metal sheriff’s badge on Jon’s denim shirt. The crowd applauded. “Sam, would you run down to Baldwin’s Barber Shop and tell Tom I need to see him right away at the jail?”

  “Sure thing, Sheriff.” Sam hurried off.

  * * *

  Ed pushed the small gate open and walked Wilson into a cell. “Sit down!” Ed ordered as he took the cuffs off the frightened man. Close behind, Jon walked in the cell and sat on the cot across from nervous ranch hand.

  He looked over at Jon. “I ain’t no murderer, I want you to know that, I come from a good family!” Slim pleaded.

  “I know you do, Slim,” Jon said. “Just calm down a little; I need to talk to you.”

  “O...Okay Sheriff, I’ll try,” Slim replied.

  “Jack made a pot of coffee a few minutes ago. You want a cup?” Jon asked.

  “Yes please Jon, thank ya,” Slim replied.

  Steam rose as the Jon poured a cup and handed it to Slim. Slim took a sip and looked over at the Sheriff.

  “You’re in a whole heap a trouble here Slim, but I’ll go lenient on you if you tell me the truth,” Jon said sternly.

  “Yea, you’ll go easy, but Faraday’ll kill me!” Slim lamented.

  Jon leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “If you don’t talk, Faraday won’t have to kill you.”

  “I’m darned if I do, darned if I don’t,” Slim sighed as he leaned back against the wall. He was quiet for awhile and then looked up at Jon. “Go ahead,” he said quietly.

  “Do you know who killed Jed Orton?” Jon asked.

  Slim’s brow furrowed, he hesitated. It seemed like forever before he spoke.

  “Canady,” he said quietly.

  “Who ordered Canady to kill Jed?”

  Slim shook his head nervously as he stared at the floor. “Faraday,” he mumbled. The frightened man rung his hands. Beads of sweat formed on his face.

  Jon looked over at Ed and smiled.

  “What about Little Bear?” Jon pressed.

  “I dunno. I think he just got’n the way, I guess,” Slim replied.

  “What about them two varmints who tried to take me out over by the canyon?” Jon said.

  “Faraday hired ’em, they were friends of Butch’s from down Tombstone way.” Slim’s face was white with fear. “That’s all I’m sayin’ Sheriff, that’s enough!”

  “Thank you, Slim, you’ve been a big help.” Jon patted the terrified man on his knee. “And don’t you worry, we’ll keep you under guard ’til Faraday’s either dead or in jail.” Jon promised.

  “Thanks Sheriff. Tell my folks I’m sorry, will ya?” He looked at Jon with anticipation.

  “One of us will, I promise, Slim.” Jon smiled.

  The heavy door clanged shut as Jon hurried over to his desk. The front door swung open and Commissioner Tom Baldwin hurried in.

  “Howdy Tom,” Jon said.

  “Howdy Jon, how are you?” Tom asked. “I heard the gun shots, but I couldn’t see much from my end of town.”

  “I’m fine, Tom, sit down,” Jon ordered. “Cup of coffee?”

  “Thought you’d never ask.” Tom slid a chair out and sat down.

  Jon plopped down in his swivel chair. “We need to talk, Mr. Commissioner,” Jon said seriously.

  “Fire away, Sheriff!”

  “Slim Wilson
tried to take me out today after I shot Canady,” Jon said matter-of-factly. “Ed here, shot the rifle out of his hands. He tried to run; we caught him and put him in jail.”

  Tom looked back in the cell area, “That’s a shame, it’s not like Slim.”

  “I know and he’s scared stiff, and he just spilled the beans on Faraday,” Jon said, leaning forward.

  “That’s good; what’d he tell you?”

  Ed handed Jon a hot cup of coffee; Jon squinted through the steam. “Glad you’re sitting down,” Jon said. “Seems as though Alex ordered Slim to try and kill me today. That sidewinder also ordered Jed Orton’s murder, which implicates him in the murder of Little Bear. Slim also told us that Alex set that trap for me out by the canyon. Looks like our fine new commissioner is implicated in two murders and two attempted murders - one on Jack and on me!” Jon scowled.

  “Doesn’t surprise me. I always thought those two Brits were a little bit too good to be true!” Tom frowned.

  “What about the special election scheduled for tomorrow?’ Jon asked.

  “Under these circumstances, a special election would be out of the question. I’m going to postpone it indefinitely until we get this mess sorted out.” The natty barber went on. “More importantly, we can’t have violent men like these living among us. Faraday, Cook and his bunch must come to justice. I will give you all the support you ask for.”

  “Thanks Tom.” Jon reached forward for a quick handshake.

  “Good luck my friend and please be careful! The town needs you!” He smiled and left the jail.

  “Great!” Jon exclaimed as the door closed behind the Commissioner. “Now we have time to round up those nasty varmints.”

  “Yea, but something tells me it ain’t gonna be easy,” Ed replied. “Faraday’s mansion is going to be an armed camp. Alex, Clive, and Web Norton are all crack shots, and he’ll get a few hands to join in. They’ll take up positions in the rocks on both sides of the road in. If we try and charge them, we’ll be sitting ducks.”

  “You’re right,” Jon replied.