Duel at Low Hawk

by Charles G. West

  Not willing to risk the same fate, John moved quickly back to the ladder and descended the plank steps two at a time, landing on the floor of the barn at nearly the same time Boot struggled inside the door. Boot reached back to pull his rifle to him, only to scream in pain as a bullet from the lawman’s rifle shattered his arm. He looked back at John Ward, the deputy standing with his rifle aimed right at him, and realized he was done for. “Don’t shoot!” he screamed. “I give up!” Seeing John hesitate, he begged the lawman, “You got me. My leg’s broke. I think you broke my arm, too. I give up. You’re a federal marshal—you can’t shoot me in cold blood!”

  Still standing with his rifle aimed at the vile outlaw’s head, John Ward had to think about that for a moment. What the wounded half-breed said was true in principal, but this mad dog needed killing badly. The people he had murdered demanded it. His sense of honor won out in the end, and he slowly lowered the rifle and approached the crippled outlaw.

  “You’re gonna have to help me up,” Boot said. “My leg’s broke, and I can’t put no weight on this arm.” He held his bleeding hand up for John to see.

  John hesitated for a moment, studying the man who had terrified such a large part of the Nations for weeks. After a long pause, he spoke. “All right,” he said softly, and bent down to give him a hand. The two adversaries looked each other in the eye at that moment. Boot’s eyelids narrowed and his eyes quivered slightly as he suddenly lunged up with his long skinning knife, thrusting up at John’s belly. Just as suddenly, Boot’s wrist was met and locked in the steel grip of John Ward’s hand. At the same time, he jammed his rifle barrel up under Boot’s chin. He smiled and said, “I was hoping you’d try that.” Boot’s eyes opened wide with fright a split second before the bullet tore through the top of his head.

  Chapter 18

  It was a long ride back to Fort Smith—a long way to carry a worthless corpse. It gave a man a lot of time to think. It had taken some time to finally track down Boot Stoner, but once again John Ward had gotten the job done. Thankfully there weren’t many as bad as Boot Stoner. But, damn, John thought, one’s bad enough. He thought of the evil that the savage half-breed had wrought, the lives he had taken, and those he had altered. There was some good that had come of it. Lilly had gone back to the Cherokee Nation with Two Buck. She hadn’t agreed to marry the young man who worshipped her, but John supposed she eventually would.

  Thoughts of the young couple, finding happiness in a world of misery, triggered other thoughts. And for the first time he could remember, John Ward was lonely. As he made his way across the Canadian River, north of the San Bois Mountains, he wondered if it had been him lying across the saddle of a horse, instead of Boot, would there have been anyone to grieve? “What the hell would it matter?” he uttered. But he knew what was really bothering him: Lucy Summerlin. Thoughts of the doctor’s daughter had penetrated his concentration on too many occasions during the past few weeks, far too many to ignore. In his line of work, thoughts of a woman could influence a man’s decisions. “Maybe I’m in the wrong business,” he declared.

  “I’m glad to see you back safely, John,” Judge Parker said after Boot Stoner’s body had been turned over to the undertaker. “I know this was a tough one.”

  John nodded. “I’m sorry it took so long. A lot of people got killed.”

  “Couldn’t have been helped, I guess. The main thing is that he’s no longer a threat.” Thinking that he noticed a troubled look in his deputy’s eye, the judge affected a casual note. “I guess you’ll be wanting to get back to that time off I interrupted before. Maybe do some hunting and fishing.”

  “Maybe,” John replied. “I’m takin’ the time off. There’s some other things I need to take care of.”

  When the big lawman failed to offer details, Judge Parker decided not to pry. “Well, you’ve certainly earned it. Enjoy yourself.”

  “Thank you, sir,” John replied respectfully. There was some urgent business he had in mind, and he had not definitely made up his mind until that moment.

  Feeling a slight pressure from John’s heels, the big gray stallion picked up the pace as horse and rider approached the little settlement of Red Bow. Dr. Summerlin was sitting on the front porch of his clinic, holding a coffee cup in his hand. As the big deputy pulled up at the hitching post, the doctor got up and stepped down from the porch to greet him.

  “Well, John Ward, did you ever catch that outlaw you were chasing?”

  “Yes, sir, I caught him,” John replied.

  “How about my gunshot patient? What was his name?”

  “Two Buck.”

  “Right, Two Buck. How’s he doing?”

  “He’s gettin’ along fine. I think he’s gonna get himself married,” John replied.

  “Well, come on in and sit down. There’s still some coffee left in the pot.”

  “Uh, no, thanks,” John responded. “I ain’t forgot the last time I tried some of your coffee.” Summerlin threw back his head and laughed. Anxious to get to the point of his visit, John said, “I was hopin’ to talk to Lucy.”

  A slight frown crossed the doctor’s face. “Why, John, Lucy’s not here. She’s gone back to St. Louis to stay with my sister. A place like Red Bow is kinda hard on a young woman. I think she stayed with me a lot longer than she wanted to.”

  John was devastated. It had taken so long to bring himself to the point where he knew what he wanted. And to find out now that he had missed his opportunity was almost too much to bear. She had waited for him to commit to her. He was sure of that now, and because of his lack of confidence, he had lost her.

  Seeing the obvious disappointment in the honest lawman’s eyes, Summerlin said, “Damn, I’m sorry, John. She just left yesterday. One of my patients took her over to Deer Creek, and she’s going to catch the train there tomorrow morning.”

  “Deer Creek,” John repeated. “She’s catchin’ the train in the mornin’?” Summerlin nodded. “Deer Creek’s a day and a half ride from here,” John calculated. “Or half a day and a night.” With no further decision to be made, he bade the doctor good-bye and jumped into the saddle.

  Riding straight through the night, stopping only periodically to rest his horse, John sighted the small gathering of homes and stores that made up the settlement of Deer Creek close to midmorning. Already worried that he was not going to make it before the train arrived, he was at once dismayed to see the train not only there, but already pulling out. “No! Dammit, no!” he shouted, once again devastated. “By God,” he vowed, and dug his heels into the gray’s flanks. The horse responded as before, galloping past the water tank and the telegraph shack, out beside the track, racing the gradually accelerating locomotive.

  Pulling even with the engineer’s cab, he grabbed the hand rail and swung himself aboard. “Stop the train,” he commanded to a startled engineer. When the engineer did not respond at once, John pulled his badge out of his pocket and shoved it in the poor man’s face. “Stop this damn train. I’m a deputy federal marshal, and I’m arresting a criminal on this train.” Left with no choice other than to comply, the engineer brought the train to a stop.

  Wasting no time, John ran back along the track to the passenger cars. There were only two, and she was not on the first one. Charging into the second car, he saw her at once. Stunned, her eyes wide as saucers, Lucy Summerlin could scarcely believe what she saw. “John,” was all she could say as the big man strode straight up the aisle toward her, amid the puzzled stares of the other passengers.

  Just finding her had dominated his thoughts up to that moment. He had not given thought to what he would say if and when he found her. Stopping abruptly at her seat, and gazing down into her still-mystified face, he spoke his peace. “Lucy, your pa told me you were goin’ to St. Louis. And I reckon that’s what you oughta do if that’s what you want. But I couldn’t let you go without tellin’ you I wanna marry you. If you think you could tolerate me, I’d be obliged if you’d be my wife.”

  Lucy’
s mouth dropped open in amazement, and she thought that surely she was not hearing what she thought she had just heard. She was unable to answer for a long moment, as she gazed up into his now-tormented face. Then she laughed, unable to help herself. “John Ward, that is about the worst proposal of marriage I’ve ever heard.”

  Becoming more and more nervous as the other passengers began to crowd in to better hear the proposition of marriage, John asked, “Well, whaddaya say?”

  “Well, I don’t know,” she replied, her smile growing by the second. “Do you love me?”

  “What? . . . I don’t know . . . I mean, I reckon.”

  “Which is it? You don’t know, or you reckon?”

  “Hell, I love you. I love you bad.”

  “Then I’ll marry you.”

  There was a spontaneous round of applause from the spectators. The cheers accompanied the red-faced lawman as he carried Lucy’s suitcase along the aisle and down the steps. Following in his wake, Lucy smiled as she acknowledged the good wishes. There was nothing she desired in St. Louis. Everything she needed was right there in the Nations.