by R. B. Conroy
He spun the cylinders on his Army Colts, still warm from early morning practice. He was fully loaded. He stood up and straightened his tie, donned his brown felt hat, and stepped out of the jail. He turned and quietly locked up. The dew glistened on the roof tops as Jon marched toward Auggie’s. It was dawn in the desert, cool and wet.
Jon pushed open the door to Auggie’s, stepped in and walked over to their favorite table by the large front window. “Howdy Boys,” Jon said as he sat down, back to the wall.
“Mornin’ Jon,” the deputies replied, already seated and waiting.
“We’ve got some plannin’ to do, fellas,” Jon said as Auggie handed him a hot cup of coffee. “We gotta make sure Faraday and Cook don’t leave town.” Jon’s elbows hit the table; he made eye contact with each man. “Here’s the plan.”
Chapter 26
“Wake up Web,” Clive shouted.
Web’s aching body rolled left on his bunk, his crusty eyes broke open. He looked up at the massive Cook.
“We’re riding into town; we need your gun,” Clive said firmly.
“Go to hell!” Web retorted, as he slid the covers up over his head.
“Listen Web, Alex is madder than a hornet at you for not making it to Mesa. He said if you don’t get up, I am to whip you.”
Web grumbled. He rolled up to a sitting position. His muscles ached and he had a terrible headache. The night’s sleep had helped; he felt a little better as he stood and stretched. The back of his head still hurt from the hard fall, but everything else seemed to be working.
“We’re having breakfast at the house; the boss wants to go over a few things.” Clive motioned toward the mansion.
“Lead the way.” Web scowled as he followed Cook to the house.
Chapter 27
Ka....ching! the cash register door slid shut. “Be careful,” Auggie said. “I’m kind of gettin’ attached to you boys.”
“Thank you, Aug,” Jon replied. The others nodded as they left the cozy eatery.
Jon saw the silhouettes of six riders move silently across the horizon as the men walked to the Barbee. Jon stopped and stuck his arm up; the men pulled up behind him, all eyes went to the distant riders.
“They’re comin’ in force,” Ed said.
“Sure looks like it,” Jon said as he motioned the men toward the Barbee. “Spread out,” he ordered. The men all stepped up on the walkway and spread out facing the street.
Dust clouds appeared on the edge of town as the riders approached; they looked dark and menacing against the morning sun. The brave lawmen stood motionless.
It was eight o’clock. The town was coming alive; people scurried to get out of the way of the approaching riders.
Faraday sat tall in the saddle; his beautiful thorough-bred pranced nervously as he led the group through town. Clive Cook’s broad shoulders looked huge as he rode next to and slightly behind, Alex. Web Norton and the others spread out behind the two Brits.
Quite a show!! Jon thought. I hope I don’t have to kill’em!! He stared hard at the riders, his heart growing dark.
Alex looked over at Jon. “Top of the morning to you Sheriff,” he said with a sly smile.
“Mornin’ Alex,” Jon replied calmly, never taking his eyes off the wily Englishman.
The riders pulled up at Faraday’s Saloon, dismounted and tied down. Jon watched as Faraday slid his rifle out of its holster, hid it under his long duster and walked in his saloon.
“Faraday took his rifle inside; looks like he means business,” Jon said.
The other men nodded as they turned and walked in the Barbee.
“Howdy boys,” Sam shouted as the men strolled in.
“Morning Sam,” Jon replied as he moved to the end of the bar.
Sam poured four cups of hot coffee as the boys lined up along the bar. He dumped a shot of whiskey in each cup. “Good for the nerves,” Sam said with a grin.
The saloon’s doors flew open, Fred from the telegraph office rushed in. “Telegram for the Sheriff,” he announced.
“I’m over here,” Jon said. Fred hurried over.
“Thank you Fred.” Jon tossed him a silver dollar. Fred laid the gram on the bar and hurried out.
Jon ripped it open, his eyes scanning the message.
“What’s up?” Ed asked.
“Stage should be arriving any time now,” Jon said calmly. “It’s right on time!”
Jon looked over at Camp. “Coroner Jake told us he saw four horses behind Faraday’s on his walk this morning. Better go pick them up. I think they’re getaway horses for Alex and his gang.”
“Sure thing, Jon.” Camp took a quick sip from his cup and hurried out the door.
“Good morning, boys,” Libby said as she walked out from the kitchen and leaned on the bar.
“Mornin Libby,” Jon replied. “Are your new girls comin’ on the stage today?”
“They should be,” she replied softly.
“Stage is on schedule, it should be here any time,” Jon said.
“Oh good, I can sure use the help: I’ve been a little shorthanded around here lately.” Libby’s brave smile couldn’t cover up the tears in her eyes.
Jon moved in close and gently wiped the tears away, “Don’t worry baby, it’ll take more than these lowlifes to take this cowboy out.” The two lovers sat and talked quietly for several minutes.
A short time later, Camp rushed in. “The horses are gone,” he announced. “I took ’em down to the stables and stationed one of the boys up in the rocks behind Faraday’s, just in case.”
“Good work, Camp! I’d like to see Faraday’s face when he finds out his getaway horses are gone.” Jon laughed.
“I do believe he will be bloody mad.” Camp said sarcastically, followed by a hardy laugh from the men.
* * *
Down at Faraday’s, Alex and his boys were sitting around the big oak table on the mezzanine, planning their next move.
“Cliff!”
“Yea, boss!”
“The stage should be coming soon. Go down near the hotel and wait in the alley. As soon as you know which judge it is, get back here as quickly as you can!”
“Sure thing, Boss.” Cliff hopped down the stairs and hurried out the front door.
“Hiya! Hiya!” The stage driver’s voice could be heard just outside of town. The wooden wheels rumbled as the Well Fargo stage charged into town, window shades drawn.
“The stage is here!” Alex shouted. “Clive, go out back and check on our four horses.”
Clive jumped up and ran down the back stairs.
The two hands sitting at the table grimaced and looked at each other. “Four Horses?” one whispered.
“There’s six of us! That SOB don’t give a damn about us, let’s get outa here while the gettin’s good,” the other hand said quietly. “I’ll say somethin’ to Faraday.”
“Hey Boss,” he said.
“Yes, yes, what is it?”
“We’re goin’ down to the bar and grab a quick drink.”
“Hurry up, there may be trouble,” Alex replied.
“Okay, Boss,” he replied as he smiled mischievously at his fellow hand. The two men hurried down the stairs and exited through the swinging doors.
Alex glanced up from stuffing his pipe just in time to see the two hands scurry out the door. “Damn cowards!” he shouted.
* * *
Jon and his men hurried out of the Barbee to meet the stage just as the two hands were leaving Faraday’s.
Camp saw them out of the corner of his eye and went for his gun.
Jon quickly grabbed Camp’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s just a couple of boys from the ranch. Let ’em go. They probably decided they didn’t want to die.”
Camp slowly dropped his six gun back in the holster. He watched as the two hands mounted up and galloped out of town.
“Jack, you and Camp stay here. Ed and I’ll go down to the stage and greet the judge. Keep an eye on the comings a
nd goings over at Faraday’s,” Jon said as he walked hurriedly toward the Westwood. Ed was close behind.
* * *
“You won’t believe it!” Clive shouted as he raced up the steps to the mezzanine. “The horses are gone, every damn one of them.”
“They’re what?” Alex screamed. He tossed his pipe and it bounced across the table. “What the hell kind of idiots do I have working for me?”
“You should’ve had a guard out back, Alex! Now we’re in big trouble, they’re on to us and we got no where to go!” Web shouted.
Faraday stared at the insolent Norton, his face hot with anger. “Shut your mouth, Web, this was Clive’s idea. Besides, it’s too late to worry about it now. We have to hope that Judge Oliver’s not on that stage; if he is, Stoudenmire will be coming after us, you can bet your bloody life on that. We need to be ready for anything; grab your weapons, men, and follow me.
Alex picked up his Winchester; Clive and Web spun the cylinders on their six guns as the three men raced down the steps.
“Get out of the way!” Faraday shouted as he pushed aside several chairs and tables on the way to the bar. “Get out of there!” he shouted at the bartender. The bartender ducked out from behind the bar as Alex rushed in. “I’ll take the middle, you boys go to either end,” Alex shouted. “If they come after us, shoot to kill.”
Dust filled the street as the stage rushed past the Barbee. “Whoa! Whoa!” the driver shouted as six horses and the wooden carriage pulled up in front of the Westwood. The driver tied the straps on the brake handle and quickly jumped down. He grabbed the metal handle and yanked the cabin door open. A small hand reached forward from inside. Two young girls in long dresses stepped out to greet the sheriff.
“Welcome to Logan’s Crossing.” Jon tipped his hat to the pretty ladies. They giggled as they nervously waved their fans in front of their faces. “Your rooms are waiting. Miss Thompson will be down later to meet with you,” Jon said quickly. “The driver will escort you to your rooms.” The shotgun driver tossed their luggage to the driver, he and the girls hurried inside.
Jon’s eyes went immediately back to the stage door. Just as expected, out of the corner of the dark cubicle, the thin figure of Judge Oliver emerged. He smiled and shook hands with Jon.
“Mornin’ Jon, sorry for the delay, we had a little--”
The judge was suddenly interrupted by Ed Morgan.
“Hold up there, Cliff!” Ed shouted as Faraday’s lookout jumped out of the alley and began running along the walkway toward the saloon.
“Excuse me, Judge.” Ed tipped his hat and charged after Cliff Nestleroad. Camp and Jack picked up on the action and joined in the pursuit.
“I cut him off!” Camp yelled from the middle of the street, He took the angle to the walkway to cut him off before he reached Faraday’s. “Get their horses out of here,” Camp shouted at Jack. Malone nodded and ran toward the hitching post.
Nestleroad shouted, “Oliver!” as he dove under the doorway to the saloon; trying to warn Faraday and the boys inside. Ed and Camp were in close pursuit.
Out in the street, Jack yanked off his hat and smacked the behinds of the horses. “Get!” he shouted. The frightened horses snipped at each other as they began to move away from the post. “Get, now get on out of here!” Jack continued to shout and wave his hat as the horses ran in every direction. Suddenly, Jack was alone and isolated in the middle of the street in front of Faraday’s. Realizing that he was a sitting duck for the shootists inside, he turned to run.
Two loud rifle shots reverberated from inside the saloon. Splinters flew as the bullets blasted through the batwing doors and hit Jack square in the back.
“Uhggg!” Jack screamed. The force of the shots blew his body to the center of the street, he rolled over on the rutted street and then fell face down. Dark red blood oozed from the smoking holes in his back.
Ed and Camp were now in front of Faradays.
More rifle shots could be heard as the big front window blew to pieces; Ed was blasted off the walkway as he and Camp ran past the window. He crashed onto the dusty street. Holding his limp left arm, he quickly rolled back toward the wooden walkway for cover.
Unharmed, Camp dove under the hitching post and stood up facing the saloon. The angry youngster pulled out his six guns and began blasting away,.
In a fit of rage, he fired randomly into the saloon.
Jon raced down the middle of the street toward Jack; his heart was breaking at the sight of his wounded friend. Bullets whizzed by Jon’s head as he slid to the ground next to Jack; his big arm went under Jack’s stomach as he gently rolled his bloody friend over and lifted him up.
“I guess they finally got me,” Jack said softly. He smiled at the sheriff; his chest stopped heaving, his eyes fell shut.
“Jack! Jack!” Jon shook his friend, trying to bring him back, to no avail. Jon laid Jack’s limp body on the dusty street. His eyes glazed over with rage, he turned and looked toward the saloon. Suddenly a rifle shot blasted into Jon’s shoulder. He barely felt it as he stood up and faced the fire; a dark blood stain appeared on his blue denim shirt. He glanced inside the saloon; he could see Alex in the middle of the bar. He drew his Colts and walked toward the bar, guns blazing. He looked down at Ed below the walkway. “You okay?” he asked, as the bullets whizzed by.
“Yea, I got a pretty good one, but I’m gonna make it.” Ed grinned at his old friend.
Jon looked over at Camp.” Stay here with Ed.”
“Ed’s okay, I’ll go with you,” Camp replied.
“Damn you, do what I say!” Jon barked.
Camp frowned as he slammed his smoking six guns back in their holsters and kneeled down next to Ed.
Jon quickly reloaded, the pain of Jack’s death once again shot through his heart like a dagger. He was almost overcome with rage as he moved in front of the swinging doors, and walked forward gun blazing.
Bellows of smoke from Jon’s gun blasts filled the air. He continued to fire toward the bar as he leaned forward and dove through the swinging door and rolled up under a fallen table.
Two loud blasts came from the bar area. Splinters flew above Jon’s head. He waited a minute and then peeked over the top of the table. The barrel of Cook’s six gun was pointed directly at him,
Cook fired again. Jon ducked quickly behind the table; he felt the wind as the bullets flew past his head. Jon saw his chance; he rose up and took aim at a reloading Cook.
The hot lead blasted into the center of Cook’s forehead. His huge body flew against the wall, glasses breaking as the wall shelves collapsed; he bounced off the wall and fell hard to the floor. Blood and brains spewed out of the hole in Cook’s forehead. The horrific scene terrified the nearby Faraday; he began shaking and looking for a way out.
“At the other end of the bar, Norton fired wildly toward Jon.
Hearing the continuing gunfire and worried about Jon, Camp couldn’t wait any longer. He busted through the front doors, firing in the general direction of Norton.
The addition of Camp’s gunfire filled the saloon with smoke. All hell was breaking loose as the youngster scanned the room looking for targets.
Suddenly, two shots rang out from the balcony, the bullets crashed into the door frame next to Camp’s feet; he ducked quickly to the left!
Jon returned fire, as he blasted away at the hidden gunner.
“Oh hell!” the shooter screamed,. “I’m hit!” Cliff Nestleroad staggered out from a dark corner of the balcony. He stumbled over to the wood railing and fell head first over the railing toward the floor below. The sound of his neck cracking as he hit the hard wood floor could be heard throughout the saloon.
Jon stood slowly, his left arm hung limp from the shoulder wound. He motioned with his right gun hand for Camp to go outside. An unhappy Camp stormed back through the swinging doors. Jon’s six gun was still smoking from the shots at Nestleroad. He surveyed the situation, like a cat ready for the kill. All the firing had suddenly ce
ased; the room was eerily quiet as the thick smoke drifted to the ceiling.
* * *
Norton was reloading. Faraday inched along the floor behind the bar, shaking violently, terrified at the prospect of facing an angry Jon Stoudenmire. He reached the end of the bar and looked out at the alley, shocked to see his faithful steed standing just outside the back entry. The loyal horse was waiting on her master. Alex’s pulse quickened; he now saw a chance to escape.
“Throw your guns over the bar, put your hands up and come out, Web!” Jon shouted.
“Promise me I won’t hang and I’ll come out,” Web countered.
“Can’t promise you that, but I’ll see that you get a fair trial,” Jon replied.
Faraday’s eyes darted left and right. Under the cover of the bar, he started to crawl quietly toward the back door.
Web’s voice bellowed out from behind the bar. “It’s a trick, you just wanna get me out in the clear so you can kill me. I’m gonna hang and you know it!” The agitated man jumped up and fired again at Jon.
Jon ducked to the right as the bullet whizzed past. “You fool!” he shouted as he fired two shots at Web. Sparks flew off the cylinder of Web’s six gun as it flew out of his hand.
“Ahh!” He screamed as he leaped up, shaking his shooting hand.
Jon moved quickly through the thick smoke to the end of the bar near Web. He looked outside and saw Camp standing next to Ed.
“Take Web to jail,” Jon shouted out the door to Camp. Camp rushed inside and cuffed Web.
Meanwhile, Faraday crawled quickly through the back door and mounted up.
* * *
“Damn!” Jon yelled as he saw Faraday start to ride away. He darted toward the front of the bar; busted through the swinging doors and whistled for Babe. The giant Palomino ripped the leather loose from the hitching post in front of the Barbee and charged toward her master.
