by Dale Graham
He was considering how best to tackle the miscreants when two shots rang out. And they had come from the alley behind the saloon. Throwing caution to the wind, he dashed along to the back door and lurched out onto the veranda. There, lying in a pool of his own blood down below, was Meek. And he clearly would not be getting up. The drumming of hoof beats assailed his ears. A quick glance up the alley and he perceived a rider disappearing round the far corner.
It was Perry Blaine. The two worms had turned on one another and Blaine had come out the winner. But not for long, if Bear River Cal Bonner had anything to do with it. No need for prudence anymore. He dashed back down to the front of the saloon where his horse was tethered.
‘What was all the shooting about, Cal?’ the mayor asked. ‘We thought you might have run into trouble.’
‘Meek and Blaine have had a disagreement. And I’m going after the winner,’ he shouted back while leaping into the saddle. Other questions were thrown his way, but they dissolved in the cloud of dust produced by the galloping cayuse.
Unseen by the mayor and those hovering outside the Prairie Dog, Blaine had crossed Kingman further down. Only two other people were walking along the opposite side of the street. Blaine’s eyes widened. One was Marge Gillett who was accompanied by none other than Tilly Dumont. And they were about to enter the rooming house. Here was his ace in the hole. A chance to keep any pursuit by that interfering lawman at bay.
He dragged his horse to a halt beside the pair of ladies. ‘You’re coming with me, Tilly. And don’t try any tricks. If’n I can’t have you then nobody can.’
The girl was roughly hoisted across the saddle in front of Blaine. A heavy duty cuff round the head soon terminated any resistance to the abduction. But Marge Gillett had been raised on a dirt farm and was tough as old boots. She flung herself at the mounted rider clawing at his legs, trying to unseat him. ‘Take your hands off’n her,’ she snapped out, desperation evident in her fearful cry.
Blaine was not about to be cheated at this crucial stage by any damned females. His left boot lifted and drove the scrabbling widow off where she tumbled into a pool of muddy water. Free of any further encumbrance, he dug in the spurs and galloped off.
Marge lumbered to her feet, dripping wet with clods of foul-smelling ordure clinging to her dress. But except for hurt pride, she was uninjured. A spirited dash along Kingman followed. Marge had never run so hard in her life. Her vigorous hollering attracted numerous strange comments from folks who had emerged from their homes anxious to determine the cause of all the shooting.
‘Marshal Bonner, come quick!’ she yelled out, frantically waving her hands. ‘Perry Blaine has kidnapped Tilly. You have to go after them quick.’
Cal reined in on the corner opposite the saddlery. ‘Take it easy, Marge,’ he taxed the agitated woman. ‘No reason for you to bust a blood vessel.’
But the older woman was not to be placated. ‘Get after that skunk lickety-spit. He’s heading east along the road to Dead Man’s Draw.’ She paused to draw in a gulp of air. ‘Clubbed the girl out cold with his meaty fist. I tried to stop him. But you can see what happened.’
She indicated the dire state of her muddy attire.
‘Like the first day you arrived in Wichita. Remember? You should catch them up easy seeing as they’re riding double.’
Blaine realized that he could never outrun Cal Bonner while toting the woman along. But he knew exactly how to work this to his advantage. At the entrance to the Draw, he reined up and dragged Tilly off the horse. A few slaps around the kisser soon brought her round. ‘Now listen up, girl,’ he growled out. No longer the ardent lover, here was the real Perry Blaine: a hard-nosed thug who had no scruples when it came to saving his own skin. ‘You’re gonna be my ace up the sleeve to get that meddling tinstar off’n my back.’
A rough arm encircled her neck. The other hand held a gun to her head. They did not have long to wait. Within minutes, the stomp of pounding hoof beats lifted a cloud of dust from the far side of a low rise. Man and horse crested the rise but were forced to a stumbling halt by the terrifying sight of his true love in the intimidating clutches of her brutish oppressor.
‘That’s as far as you go, Bonner,’ the rat sang out, jabbing the gun into his victim’s cheek. ‘Now step down and unbuckle your gunbelt then toss it aside. And make it slow and easy. One false move and the girl dies.’
Cal had been given no choice but to comply. ‘You won’t get away with this, Blaine. And even if’n you do, I’ll hunt you down and feed your body to the hogs. Harm one hair of her head and you’re dead meat.’
A mirthless cackle echoed around the rocky point. ‘Toothless threats, Bonner. I’m the one giving the orders. Now shuck your boots and start walking back to town.’
Unfortunately for the aggressor, his whole attention was focused on ensuring that any threat from Bonner was neutralized. Adele took the bull by the horns and bit down on the arm now covering her mouth. Sharp teeth split the skin, drawing blood. The shock threw Blaine into a panic as he pulled his arm away. The pressure of his embrace slackened allowing Adele to wriggle free.
Cal wasted no time. He dived across to where his guns lay. Blaine snapped off a couple of shots. But he was no gunslinger and they went wide. Cal lay on the ground spread-eagled, his left hand cocking and firing the Navy Colt until the hammer clicked on empty. Six shots in all, of which four had struck their target. Blaine lay splayed out in the dust.
Staggering across, the man from Bear River stood over the corpse ready to despatch the full load of his other gun should the need arise. Ribs heaving as the blood pounded in his chest, he sank to his knees. It had been a close call. And he had Adele to thank for bringing this whole sorry episode to a suitable climax.
The girl hurried across and threw her arms around the man she loved more than life itself. Both their lives had been spared. Surely that must be a sign from above that they were meant to stay together.
Cal slowly removed the badge from his chest and tossed it on the ground. ‘I’m finished with this life, Adele. If’n you want me to tend store, then so be it. Anything to have you by my side.’
The girl held his face. Then she picked up the discarded star and pinned it back on his vest. ‘No, Cal. This is what you do.’ A soft hand caressed his stubble-coated cheeks. ‘Marge and Doc Bailey opened my eyes. It made me realize how proud I am to call myself the wife of Marshal Cal Bonner, the man who tamed Wichita and brought peace so that good folks could walk the streets in safety.’
Then she kissed him full on the lips. Meadow larks chirruped with joy, a coyote howled its own accord. And peace had returned to Sedgwick County, thanks to the Wichita town tamer.
