One Man's Fire

by Ralph Compton

  “The only reason I brought all of that up,” Saunders explained, “is so you’d know just how anxious those men were to kill you.”

  “I guessed as much when they were shooting at us.”

  “Exactly. And by the time we were committed to the fight, we were in it for blood. Your gang didn’t leave us much choice. All of that makes it even more curious that you didn’t pull your trigger when you had the chance.” Saunders leaned forward to prop his elbows upon his knees. “When my deputy got the drop on you, I figured we’d just have one less killer to deal with. When that deputy turned his head at the wrong moment, I prayed he’d live to learn from that mistake. And when I saw you bring up your pistol as quick as you did, I feared I’d have to visit my deputy’s family and tell them they’d never see him again. Imagine my surprise when you faltered.”

  “That’s all it was,” Eli said while turning to barely look in the sheriff’s direction. “Nothing more than a stupid falter. Shouldn’t read more into it than that.”

  “But there’s so much more to read. The way I figure, it must’ve taken you more effort to keep from shooting than it would to just follow through on what you started. There was nothing for any outlaw to gain from letting that man live and everything to lose.”

  “So you cracked me in the head for my troubles,” Eli said while reaching up to rub the spot that was still plagued by one of many lingering pains. “Much obliged.”

  “Watching a wolf hold back from ripping a wounded deer’s throat out is something special. Expecting that wolf to let that deer walk away is just plain stupidity. I knocked you out before you could do anything to put your head back into that noose.”

  “Speaking of which…,” Eli said warily.

  “I don’t hang men for crimes they didn’t commit. I don’t rightly know what all you did before you came to the Lazy V, but I know what I saw. You didn’t kill anyone at that ranch, but you’re supposed to be hanged for it just so folks can think their lawmen are earning their keep and that a bunch of rich men know how to protect their wagons. I’ve lived a full life and a lot of it’s on account of following my instincts. Those instincts tell me that if you were the same kind of killer as Jacob Welles and that one-eyed fella, you would have pulled your trigger when you had that deputy of mine dead to rights. Instead, you let him live and I won’t put you to death for it.”

  Eli turned around so he could lean back with his shoulders against the wall and his arms crossed indignantly across his chest. “And you want me to help you catch Jake, Hank, and Cody in return for you speaking up for me. Is that it?”

  “That’s it indeed.”

  “If I’m such a good man, then why would I stab my partners in the back that way?”

  “Because you’re not one of them. Besides that, what I was telling you about them leaving you behind isn’t just a load of dung. If they were anywhere near this jail or even this town, don’t you reckon those resourceful friends of yours would’ve found a way to get word back to you?”

  Eli didn’t respond, which didn’t deter Saunders in the least.

  “I wasn’t just watching you at that ranch,” the sheriff said. “I was watching the rest of that gang real good when they turned tail and bolted from the Lazy V. They didn’t even look back to see if you were alive or dead, and they never stopped shooting in the hopes that they might kill just one more man on their way out. Some of those dead men were shot so many times they looked like they’d had a stick of dynamite handed to ’em. That’s not the work of anyone fighting to survive. That’s the work of someone who loves to kill, plain and simple. If you loved killin’ so much, you would’ve done some of it yourself.”

  Saunders stood up, moved the chair back to its normal spot away from the bars, and faced the cell. “I’ve known men to break the law for plenty of reasons. Some just like it and some feel it’s what they gotta do. You obviously don’t like it and you don’t have to do it no more, Eli.”

  “So I should become a traitor instead?”

  “You should see to it that those murdering dogs who left you behind get what’s coming to them,” Saunders replied. “And if that’s not enough, you should do what you need to do to keep your neck from being stretched.”

  “And you can guarantee my neck’s well-being?” Eli scoffed.

  Without batting an eye, Saunders told him, “Yes, sir, I can. I may not be a fancy federal marshal, and this may not be a big city, but Seedley is my town and I’m the law here. If a man’s to be executed, it’ll be for good reason and by the letter of the law.”

  “A man at the end of any rope is just as dead, no matter what reason brought him there.”

  “The difference is if the body swinging from that rope was innocent or guilty. The way I see it, my job is to make sure one walks free and the other swings. So far, I’ve proven to be real good at my job. You should be happy to know that I believe what I see with my own eyes as opposed to what I hear. I’ve heard some nasty things about Eli Barlow, but all I’ve seen is a conniving, quick-tempered thief. From what I’ve been able to gather by talking to a few trusted colleagues, most of the killings committed by your gang was done by Jacob Welles and that fella with the one eye.”

  “Most,” Eli reminded him. “Not all.”

  “As for the rest, I suppose they could have been killed by them two or you or maybe some other members of the gang that aren’t so well known. All I got to go on with those is faith.”

  “Faith?” Eli grunted as if that was a term that was offensive to his sensibilities.

  “Faith in my judgment and instinct. Same faith that tells me you’re worth a gamble. You ride with me to track down that murdering gang of yours and I’ll see to it that you don’t get hanged for what them other men did.”

  “You say you didn’t see me kill anyone at that ranch, so I should walk away no matter what. Ain’t that what the letter of the law would say?”

  Now it was the sheriff’s turn to chuckle. “You’re still a known thief and gunman. I’m sure you shot a few men here and there, since that comes with the life you’ve chosen. Even if you never pulled a trigger in your life, I know for certain you’ve stolen more money than I’ve ever earned in any of the five towns I’ve kept the peace in. You’ll go to jail or otherwise make up for the crimes you’ve committed, but unless I speak on your behalf, there’s bound to be plenty of other charges tacked onto your name that probably don’t belong there. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you get a real trial and a sentence that fits your crimes. Needless to say, whatever you do while helping me will be taken into account to ease things for you even more.”

  “That’s real honorable of you, Sheriff. Last time I got such a deal thrown my way was when some fella in a fancy suit was trying to get me to buy a cheap watch from the back of his cart.”

  Saunders smirked at the sarcasm that dripped from Eli’s tone like wet paint from the bristles of a brush. “Then I guess it’s time for you to see how far you trust your own instincts. Surely you must need some pretty sharp ones to survive in the company of men like Jacob Welles. What do they tell you about how well I’ll stick to my oath?”

  Eli didn’t have to take any time to study the sheriff. He’d been doing that since waking up inside his cell. As much as he wanted to find a reason to dislike the lawman on nothing but principle, Eli couldn’t deny that the man meant what he said. “Well, since I don’t have much choice, I might as well take you up on your offer.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Saunders said with a genuine smile. He turned and took a step and a half before stopping to add, “Just so you know, if you try to bushwhack me or otherwise take advantage of my good nature at any point during our ride, I’ll make dangling from the end of a noose seem like a real comfortable alternative.”

  Eli had plenty of finely honed instincts, and they all told him to take those words at face value.

  Chapter 8

  It wasn’t until the next day that Eli saw another living soul walk past the bars of his
cell. When the jailhouse door swung open, he didn’t bother listening for footsteps. He knew Sheriff Saunders would be coming to collect him to make good on the deal they’d struck. If the lawman had left him alone to spend time considering that bargain, he would have been happy to know that Eli hadn’t thought about much else. On the other hand, some of the memories rushing through his head reminded him that his days spent with Jake’s gang hadn’t been a continuous string of bloody deaths and scrapes with the law.

  There had been jokes told around campfires, shared experiences that would strike him as funny until his dying day, and genuine moments of friendship that could only be forged between men who’d pulled each other from the fires of hell several times over. But no matter how much Eli pondered or how fondly he reminisced, there was only one conclusion at which he could arrive. Those same men had left him behind, a deal had been struck, and it was in his best interests to honor it. Of course, that didn’t exclude the possibility for some creative rewriting of the deal should another opportunity present itself.

  The steps shuffled down the hall and Eli was genuinely surprised to see that Sheriff Saunders wasn’t behind them. Instead, Lyssa stepped up to his bars carrying a larger tray than normal, which was covered by a clean white napkin. “Brought you some breakfast,” she said. “The sheriff tells me you two are to be riding out today.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Then this is a good-bye meal,” she said with a wavering smile. “I cooked it myself.”

  Swinging his legs over the side of his cot so he could get up and approach the bars, he asked, “You didn’t cook the oatmeal and such?”

  “That’s hardly cooking. It’s warming up and stirring. Besides, I’ve been taking extra-special care of you since you’ve been awake.” She grinned, but caught herself as if the smile and words preceding it had slipped out by mistake.

  By now scents from beneath the napkin were drifting through the air to tease Eli’s nose. He raised an eyebrow, trying not to give away just how interested he was. “So you went through more trouble this morning, huh? Shouldn’t have gone and done that.”

  “Really? Then I might as well take it back and feed it to the sheriff.”

  “No!” Eli snapped. He did his best to recover by adding, “That is, I mean you cooked it up for me and I’m hungry, so I should eat it. Is there bacon under there?”

  “Yes,” she said with a grin that showed she either had a good read on how badly he wanted it or could hear his stomach rumbling from where she stood. Lyssa pulled away the napkin to reveal the plate she held. “Bacon, grits, some toast and honey, and fried eggs.”

  “Grits?” Eli gasped as he nearly leaped at the bars. “I haven’t had those since I can remember!”

  “I know,” she said with a shake of her head. “We talked about it the other night. Folks around here say they’re about the same as oatmeal. Who knows what gets into people’s minds?”

  Eli hunkered down to receive the plate that was handed through to him. When he got it, he held on with both hands and walked it back to his cot like a preacher taking a chalice back to the altar after giving communion. He sat down, took hold of the dented spoon that was given to him with every meal, and gazed down at the food. “I hardly know where to start.”

  “Try the grits. Let me know if they were worth the excitement.”

  “Oh no. I’m saving those. Think I’ll have some bacon.” The moment his teeth snipped off a section of the crispy strip, he smiled like a kid with a mouthful of candy. “Bless your heart,” he said while chewing.

  Lyssa waved away the compliment and crossed her arms. “Is it true?”

  “Is what true?”

  “That you and the sheriff will be riding out?”

  “I reckon so,” Eli told her while picking up a piece of toast and dabbing it into the soft yolk of an egg.

  “Some say you’re gonna be rode out and strung up from a tree.”

  He stopped chewing for a moment and then resumed. “If that’s the case, I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

  Wrapping her arms around herself a little tighter, she said, “I don’t believe those stories. If Sheriff Saunders meant to hang you, he’d do it right outside this jail.”

  “That’s good…I guess.”

  “And if he did take you out somewhere else, that would probably be better than doing it here where certain folks would make it even more miserable than it already is for you.”

  “Lyssa?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can I please eat my breakfast without so much talk of hangings?”

  She lowered her head as a rosy hue flushed into her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I could just leave.”

  “No,” he was quick to say. “I didn’t mean that. I’d just like to change the topic of conversation.”

  “What would you rather hear?” she asked.

  Eli was about to dig in to his grits. With his spoon poised over the hot offering, he said, “The weather, your favorite dog, what dress you like to wear, anything you like. Just not hangings and such.”

  Lyssa pulled up the same chair that Saunders used when he’d sat and spoken with Eli the previous day. She crossed one leg over the other, placed her folded hands upon her knee, and told him about a quilt she was making with another local woman named Henrietta Kaper. Her story began with a description of the quilt along with a brief history of when she’d learned the craft, but quickly turned into a squawking session about how difficult Henrietta was to work with and the various things she said or did to get on Lyssa’s bad side.

  While Eli savored every last bite of the breakfast and the warm, welcome taste of butter-soaked grits, he also savored the words that she gave to him. Her stories were lyrical thanks to the joyous tone in which they were spoken, and even the biting comments she had in regard to Henrietta were more amusing than mean-spirited. For the span of time it took for her to reach the end of her conversation and for him to clean his plate, Eli felt as if he were anywhere but inside a drab box with bars on the door.

  The only thing to top the sound of her voice was the fleeting moment he was given when his finger brushed against hers while he was handing the plate back through the opening at the bottom of the cell door. It was the finest thing he’d ever stolen, and the little grin on Lyssa’s face told him she wasn’t about to ask for it back.

  After Lyssa left, Eli had enough time for his food to settle and churn in his belly before the jail’s front door was opened again. This time, there was no mistaking the heavier steps of a man that walked down the short hall. Saunders appeared in front of the cell with a ring of keys dangling from one fist.

  “You ready?” the lawman asked.

  Eli’s breakfast churned a little more. “Does it matter?”

  “Guess not.” In Saunders’s other hand was a pair of handcuffs. He showed them to Eli and then tossed them into the cell. “Put these on and be quick about it.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Already told you that. Just do as I asked so we can get moving.”

  Picking up the handcuffs, Eli said, “You sound a bit cross, Sheriff. Anything you want to tell me?”

  “Hopefully it’s nothing. I’ll tell you the rest when we put some distance between us and this town.”

  The first cuff cinched in around Eli’s wrist tight enough to chew into his flesh. That was mainly due to the tension in his body that caused him to squeeze the restraints shut a bit tighter than he’d intended. There was enough chain between each cuff for him to maneuver his other wrist into the open jaws of the second gaping ring of iron. “Our deal still good, just as you mentioned?”

  “Course it is,” the lawman snapped. “Why would I lie to a man in your position? If I wanted you dead, I could’ve done so without wasting so much time and breath in talking to you.”

  “All right, all right. No need to bite my head off.” Eli snapped the cuff shut, making sure to allow some more room for his blood to flow through the veins in his wrist. “When do I g
et my belongings back?”

  The question had been a joke, but Eli was surprised when Saunders leaned over to pick up a sack that he must have dropped near the cell before approaching the bars. “Everything’s in here,” he said. “Except ammunition for the pistols, of course.”

  “Of course.” Eli held his arms up and out so the sheriff could get a clear look at the chains that were binding them as he said, “I’m ready.”

  Saunders muttered to himself while fitting his key into the lock of the cell. The door swung open and shrieked as if it had forgotten what it was like for its hinges to move. Even though the sheriff was standing right there watching him, Eli felt as if he was overstepping his bounds when he stepped across the cell’s threshold. “Will I be getting my own horse?” he asked.

  “Yes, but even on its best day it won’t be able to outrun mine,” the sheriff promised.

  “Do I have to wear these the whole way?” Eli asked while shaking the chain between his wrists.

  “You’ll get them off when you prove you’re worthy. Right now just shut your mouth, step lively, and do what I say. And do only what I say, you hear? Don’t listen to anyone else. Don’t speak to anyone else. Don’t even look at anyone else.”

  The closer he got to the jailhouse’s front door, the more muffled voices Eli could hear beyond it. Behind him, Saunders bristled in a way that was more off-putting than the Colt that was pressed against Eli’s back. “Something I should know, Sheriff?” Eli asked.

  “Once you step through this door, we’ll be turning right. The horses are saddled and tied to a rail. Yours is the black one. You’ll get on and wait for me to lead you out. Not one twitch or false move, you understand?”

  There was a gravity to the lawman’s tone that made Eli stop trying to test the lawman, tease him, or otherwise make light of the situation. He simply nodded and said, “I understand.”