by Chuck Buda
With a fading cackle the gunslinger disappeared amid light flashes and more sizzling sounds. In a matter of seconds the gunslinger was gone and the street returned to an eerie silence.
James turned and saw the sheriff crawling out from under the Mayor’s bloodied body. He stood and dusted himself off as James neared. On each side of the street doors were opening and windows slid up. All the eyes that hid in safety turned into full faces and folks slowly wandered into the street to inspect the carnage. Nobody spoke a word as everyone was in shock.
James looked down at the Mayor’s face. The hole between his eyes trickled blood which pooled in the open eyelids. The wounds in his chest left gaping holes which bubbled with the last remnants of oxygen escaping the lungs. He stood in disbelief at how fast everything had happened. So many emotions had filtered through the last five minutes or so. He raised his head and looked at Sheriff Axl Morgan.
The Sheriff’s eyes stared back at James as the town crowded in to get a closer look.
Chapter 12
James didn’t like jail. He felt the walls close in around him. The cell was very small. He estimated it to be about four feet by eight feet in size. Just wide enough for a dusty cot. And deep enough to give him nearly a foot of space to stand before the cot. He leaned against the iron bars and watched the mob outside.
Sheriff Morgan had dragged James by the collar the whole way to the cell. He shoved James inside and then slammed the bars shut. Then he locked the office, leaving James behind. At first, James was angry. He didn’t understand why he was in trouble for trying to help defeat the gunslinger. James swore he would give Sheriff Morgan a good piece of his mind when the lawman returned. But as time passed, James’ anger deflated. Plus, he felt safer in the jail cell considering the crowd that had accumulated outside.
James tried to make out what the mob was saying. All he could pick up were muffled arguments peppered with shouted cuss words. It was clear that the townspeople were upset, but James didn’t know if the anger was directed at him or the sheriff or even the gunslinger.
He plopped down on the cot and chewed a hang nail on his middle finger. James wondered how upset his mother was. He knew he was in for it whenever she got near him next. He deserved to be in trouble with her for lying about his plans. But not for doing what he could to help the people in town. James felt like a grown man these days. Especially after what happened in their last town. And more so now that he had a paying job to support the family. He was nearly eighteen, and he was old enough to make his own decisions.
His mind skipped to Carson as he gently rubbed the superficial wound on his cheek. James hoped that Carson knew he was okay. The thought of the little guy worrying about him made James uncomfortable. The poor kid had been through enough hard times in recent memory. The last thing James wanted was to add to Carson’s nightmares.
James replayed the shootout in his mind. The ghost had been far more realistic than he had imagined. If he didn’t know any better, James would have sworn that the gunslinger was a living, breathing person. Except for those eyes. His eyes had been blacker than coal. And cavernous. It was like you could look straight through a long, dark tunnel to hell in those eyes.
But how could something ethereal become so real? And what about the bullets? How does an apparition get their hands on bullets? Did it use real bullets? Or were they ghostly slugs conjured up from the bottom of hell? James struggled with fitting the pieces together. Every theory he came up with just led to more questions. Questions he had no answers to. He needed to find out who the gunslinger was. If he could learn the ghost’s true identity then he could figure out what causes the annual visit.
James got restless again. He stood and grasped the iron bars to the cell. He tried to shake the iron bars with all his strength but they didn’t budge. He never thought they would but the nervous energy was searching for an outlet.
Suddenly, the shouting outside grew louder. James heard a set of keys jingle and then the tumblers in the lock clicked. The door to the Sheriff’s office opened. The mob’s cries were deafening without the damper of a locked door. Sheriff Morgan stepped into the office and forced the door closed against a throng of angry townspeople. He quickly locked the door from the inside.
“What’s going on out there? And why did you lock me up, Sheriff? I haven’t done anything wrong?”
Sheriff Morgan stared at James beneath the brim of his hat. His fingers toiled with the ring of keys in his hand. He tossed the keys on his desk and approached the jail cell.
“The protection is for you, not the folks outside.”
James blinked with confusion. “Huh?”
The Sheriff turned and walked to his desk. He removed his hat and placed it upon the desk. Then he folded his arms and leaned against the far wall. “Those folks want to kill you, James.”
“Me? What for?”
“Seems the Mayor’s blood is on your hands. At least according to them.”
“But how? Surely they all witnessed me charge the gunslinger. Besides, I didn’t even have a gun so how could I have shot the Mayor?”
“Everyone knows you didn’t pull the trigger. But your involvement in the incident and the fact that you are new in town has folks spooked.”
James was incredulous. He was at a loss for words.
“You see, James. People in this here town have a certain…way about them. They work hard. They drink hard. And they are God-fearing. These people have learned to avoid the gunslinger’s antics. Until today.”
“But what does that have to do with me?”
“Until today,” the Sheriff continued, “nobody got killed. Now you come to town and run up on the gunslinger. And the most revered man in town history is dead. Don’t you think that seems odd?”
James listened with frustration. But this accusation pushed his temper over the top. “Now you listen, Sheriff. The Mayor walked into the street on his own. He taunted the gunslinger himself. And I’m awful sorry that he is dead. But I am not going to stand here and accept blame for something I didn’t do.”
“No, you listen, James.” The Sheriff got close to the iron bars. His face was just inches from James. “It doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t do. And it doesn’t matter what you or I think you did or didn’t do. It matters what they all think.” He pointed behind himself at the shouting crowd outside.
“So you believe me?”
“Course I do, son. I saw it with my own dang eyes.”
“Then…why am I still locked up in here?”
“Well, until I can figure out what to do, that’s the only place where those folks can’t rip you to shreds.” The Sheriff went back to his desk and sat down. James watched the Sheriff while his mind scrambled for ways to get out of this mess. James never imagined that being a hero would be so troublesome. He thought to himself how the newspapers and books never mentioned these types of issues when they sensationalized the stories. For the first time in his life, James wondered how much truth was included in all the tales he read.
Chapter 13
The pounding on the window startled Sheriff Morgan out of his reverie. He had fallen trance-like into deep thought about what to do with James. The loud rapping on the glass shook him back to the present moment. Sheriff Morgan recognized the woman as Sarah Johnson, the new madam of the brothel. He nodded to her and strode to the door of his office. The Sheriff did his best to unlock the door without allowing a horde of angry residents in. He shoved a portly fellow who blocked the way so that Sarah could squeeze inside.
Before the Sheriff could slam the door shut, another person ducked under his arm. He quickly barred the door and spun to address the uninvited guest.
“Uh, Miss Lark? What in hell do you think you are doing? And pardon my language, ma’am.” Sheriff Morgan tipped the brim of his hat at the young school teacher as a sign of respect.
The young woman tried to catch her breath after pushing her way through the angry crowd in order to gain access. She unsuccessfully
tidied the bun in her hair and straightened her dress sleeves. Then she cleared her throat.
“I wanted to check on James, Sheriff. He is being treated unfairly by the town and I am here to stand up for the young man.”
Sarah pushed Sheriff Morgan aside and stepped into Miss Lark. “Who are you? And what business is it of yours that James is here?” Sarah’s crystal-blue eyes narrowed with mistrust.
Miss Lark extended her hand to Sarah. “I am Miss Lark. Eleanor Lark. I’m the school teacher here in town. Pleased to meet you.”
Sarah pushed Miss Lark’s hand aside. Sheriff Morgan intervened before the inside of his office reflected the chaos that existed on the outside.
“Okay, okay. Let’s settle down here.” He removed his hat and tossed it on the desk. “Now, what makes you think James needs speaking for?”
“Well, clearly, Sheriff, you have locked up this poor boy and turned the town against him. But I know James. And James would never have caused the Mayor’s demise like everyone is talking about.”
“Can I say something?” James tried to interject.
“No.” The three voices shouted in unison. They looked at each other and James just huffed and sat down on the cot in the cell.
“How do you know James? We’re new in town and I don’t see how you would have time to get to know my son?” Sarah’s eyes shot back toward James who avoided her glare.
“James helped me with my books this morning. We got to speaking and he purported to be a fine young man.” Miss Lark’s cheeks blushed at her admission of acquaintance.
“I don’t know what purported means but if you laid a finger on that…” Sarah revealed her over-protective nature before the Sheriff once again intervened.
“Sarah, please. Take a seat.” Sarah stared at the Sheriff with a look of disobedience so he took it up a notch. “Sit. Now.” He pointed at his desk chair. Sarah stared at Miss Lark as she walked around the edge of the desk to seat herself.
“I really have something to say.” James tried again.
“Oh, you’ll say nothing, Mister. Just you wait until I get you home.” Sarah shoved her finger in James’ direction. James rolled his eyes and sat back down.
Sheriff Morgan smirked at the exchange in his office. The circumstances were serious but he seemed to find it a bit entertaining as well. Things had been slow in town, which is always a good thing for a sheriff. But this lively tat-on-tat was funny, he thought.
“Okay. So here we are. James is in trouble. The town wants to lynch him. And we need to figure out how to get him out of this.”
Sarah looked at Sheriff Morgan. “You mean, you don’t think he is guilty?”
“Aw, hell no.” Sheriff Morgan replied and then realized he cussed again. “Pardon me, I saw the events unfold before my own eyes. I know James had nothing to do with the Mayor dying. I just locked him up to protect him from them.” He tossed his thumb over his shoulder toward the crowd.
Sarah visibly softened. “Oh. That’s a relief. Thank you, Sheriff.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Miss Johnson. James is still in hot water.”
“Well what if we told the proper story to the folks? They would have to believe us if they listened.” Miss Lark stole a glance at James and blushed when their eyes met.
The Sheriff shook his head. “Most everyone saw what happened. They know James didn’t pull the trigger. But him being new in these parts and the fact that he attempted to intervene has folks stirred up.” He looked at the women and then continued. “Folks in this here town are superstitious. They feel that James’ actions may be linked to what occurred on a more sinister level.” He rested his hands on his holster.
“They think James put a curse on the town?” Miss Lark looked shocked.
“Not a curse. But…maybe a jinx. I don’t know what to call it. But them folks think James is tied to the Mayor’s death.”
“So what can we do to convince them otherwise?” Sarah raised her eyebrows in hopes of finding a solution.
“Uh, I can help my own cause here.” James stood again and grasped the iron bars. This time the three faces turned toward him without quieting him. James felt relieved that he finally had a chance to speak. “All I was trying to do was defeat the gunslinger. I want a chance to take him down. And I’ll tell these good folks what I aim to do.”
Sarah shot James a look like she wanted him to refrain from revealing his previous encounter with Crouching Bear. The last thing she wanted was for people to know who James was and what he had done in the past. Things had gone so well up to this point in their new life and she didn’t want to jeopardize their good fortune.
“Why would they want to listen to you, James?” Sheriff Morgan approached the iron bars.
“Because they want the gunslinger gone. And I’m going to fight for them.”
“They’ll tear you apart, James. Ain’t nothing one man can do against an angry mob.”
“But I’m not alone. I have you.” James held his gaze with the Sheriff.
Sheriff Morgan tried to read James. Then he looked at Miss Lark who beamed. Sarah placed her head in her hands and sighed.
Chapter 14
“So that’s it then? We’re supposed to take yer word for it and let this boy loose to fight a ghost?” Mr. Black folded his arms. “Ain’t he done enough damage around here?”
The crowd that gathered in the saloon rumbled as folks debated the Sheriff’s plan. James still felt the butterflies in his gut. The town meeting had started over two hours ago and the crowd was still undecided. James looked at Sheriff Morgan who continued to search the room for an agreeable face.
“I’m not a boy. I’m almost eighteen.” James shouted over the din. The room erupted in laughter at James characterizing himself as a man. Carson’s faced was scrunched at the people in the saloon. He walked up to Mr. Black and tugged on his vest.
“Hey, Mister. James is a hero. And he can fighted any bad guy in the whole world. Ain’t that right, James?”
James grinned at his little buddy. He enjoyed Carson’s newfound brashness. James wondered if Carson was growing up and coming out of his shell or just mad at Mr. Black for speaking ill of his friend.
Mr. Black shoved Carson away. “Am I supposed to take yer word for it, retart?” He bellowed laughter and the room followed suit.
“What did you say to him?” James hurried to Mr. Black’s spot and stood right before him. The laughter wound down as the townspeople prepared themselves for the beating they all felt James deserved.
Mr. Black returned James’ glare. “Whoa now, boy. You might find yerself barking up the wrong tree. I suggest you take a step back ‘afore I show you what a real man is like.” He moved his chaw from one cheek to the other. “And take that retarted mongrel with you.”
The crowd mumbled with anticipation. James never took his eyes off Mr. Black.
Sheriff Morgan stepped up. “Listen, Black. You better square yourself away or you’ll spend the night locked up.”
Without looking away from James, Mr. Black snorted. “Yer gonna need a lot of deputies, Sheriff, if you think yer gonna take me in.” Several of the men behind Mr. Black nodded that they were with him in times of trouble.
“Apologize to Carson.”
“What?”
“Apologize to Carson, right now.” James fumed through his nostrils.
“Or what?”
James headbutted Mr. Black to the sound of cartilage crunching. Mr. Black dropped to his knees with blood gushing from the smashed appendage. His posse stepped forward but Sheriff Morgan pulled his pistol and cocked the hammer. The sound of the six shooter stopped everyone in their tracks.
James leaned down to Mr. Black and whispered in his ear. “A real man knows when he is wrong. And when to apologize.” Then he kicked his boot with all his might into Mr. Black’s crotch. The man dropped to the floor and cried out in pain. His posse scooped him up and dragged Mr. Black out the door.
Suddenly, the room was listening to James with
rapt attention. “I’m sorry for having to do that in front of y’all. But nobody treats my fr…” James caught himself, “my brother like that. Anybody that does wrong to Carson will answer to me.”
Sheriff Morgan rested his hand on James’ shoulder to let him know everything was settled now. “That’s it, folks. You heard the plan. James is going to help us conquer this apparition. And we’re going to help him. Any way we can. If I find out that anybody gets in his way then they will spend some time at my place in close quarters. Understood?”
The crowd shuffled restlessly. Some heads nodded understanding while others chose to just stare ahead to avoid agreeing, or be seen disagreeing. Sheriff Morgan took his time glancing from face to face.
“Best be on your way then. Have a good night.”
The saloon thinned out as most folks returned to their homes. A few groups of patrons sidled up to the bar or grabbed seats at tables in the back. Sarah approached the Sheriff and James with her arm around Carson’s shoulder.
“You got ‘em good, James.” Carson smiled up to James. James tussled Carson’s hair.
“Do me a favor, James. Next time, keep the fighting to a minimum, huh?” Sheriff Morgan’s sarcastic tone showed his displeasure.
James nodded. “Sorry. But I won’t allow anybody to mess with Carson.”
Carson rocked back and forth with a wide smile which suggested the Sheriff should put something in a pipe and smoke it. The Sheriff grimaced.
“So what happens next?” Sarah addressed the Sheriff. He tilted his hat back on his head and toed some dirt on the wood floor.
“I guess we need to finalize the plan and prepare James for a showdown.”
“Already prepared.” James retrieved the pistol from the back of his belt loop. He held it up and spun the cylinder which earned a giggle from Carson.
Sheriff Morgan lowered James’ hand. “That piece is useless against the gunslinger. My shot went clear through it with no damage. Like shooting the wind.” The Sheriff scratched his salt and pepper beard in thought. “We should talk to Pastor Riley. He might have some holy weapons of warfare for us.”
