by Chuck Buda
Underneath a small couch in the hallway, Carson hid. The small boy quietly cried to himself as he overheard James’ plan to leave him behind yet again. He put his head on his hands and stayed there for a few more hours.
Chapter 21
James carried the mirror across the dusty street. His lungs strained with the effort of hauling it for so long. He had fumbled to get the mirror down the stairs from the brothel. And then he began the long trek from the saloon to the Sheriff’s office on the other side of town.
He set the mirror down in one of the last clear spots of roadway. The street was riddled with horse droppings and James struggled to carry the heavy structure while avoiding the excrement clumps. James tried to catch his breath for a moment. He looked around at the busy street.
James couldn’t help but notice the reaction from his fellow townspeople. Half the folks ignored him as if he didn’t exist. The rest leered at him with contempt or whispered to their neighbors while staring at him. He felt the hatred as the vibes traveled in his direction.
He lifted the heavy mirror again and took two steps before nearly colliding with Eleanor. James almost dropped the mirror. He stared at her as he tried to figure out if she was going to give him more grief.
“Hello, James.”
“Hi.”
“That’s an awfully large mirror.”
“And heavy too.” He brushed a sleeve across his sweaty forehead. His hat bumped up accidentally.
“Would you like a hand?”
“Uh, no thanks. I can do it.”
Eleanor nodded and looked to the side. She brought her gaze back to James.
“I hope you forgive me for yesterday. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
James breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he wasn’t going to find himself in trouble after all. A first, he whispered to himself.
“So what brings you out here?”
“I wanted to talk to you and your mother said you were headed this way. She seemed pretty upset.” Eleanor squinted to look at James with the sun in her eyes.
“Well, she ain’t the only one with hurt feelings.” As soon as he said it, James winced for whining.
“I know you want to save everyone from the gunslinger. But it’s not your responsibility.”
James’ face soured for the coming onslaught.
“I think you’re brave. Most men pretend to be tough. But they really aren’t.”
James stuck his chest out. “Yeah, well I’m a man now so…” He didn’t know where he was going with his bravado so the sentence just trailed off awkwardly like a fart in church.
Eleanor giggled. “I just thought you should know that I am on your side, regardless what you choose to do.”
James felt butterflies in his gut. His heart pounded and he began to feel a slight stir in his dungarees. He had to picture Mr. Miller’s bald head to keep his excitement at bay.
“I would like to invite you to my home for dinner. You know, once you defeat the gunslinger. That is, if you had an inclination to eat something. Or…something.” Eleanor bit her lip to stop herself.
“Um, yeah. I guess. Sure, I can eat. I mean, I like to eat. Uh, that would be fine.” Sweat beaded upon his upper lip, but not from the heat. He was becoming increasingly more nervous.
The silence between them was charged. Eleanor turned her head towards Clip’s Barber Shop, for no good reason. James faced the other way as he watched a man enter the General Store. Eleanor caught Mrs. Thompson’s eye. The elder woman shook her head in disapproval. Eleanor blushed and turned her attention back to James.
“It’s settled then. Dinner. My house.”
James nodded. “Ayup.” He squinted in horror as his nervousness caused him to combine ‘uh-huh’ with ‘yup’. “I gotta go now.” He blurted out and scooped the heavy mirror with a burst of energy. He heard Eleanor say “Bye” from behind him but he kept moving.
When he arrived at the Sheriff’s office, James set the large mirror down. He gasped for air. He hadn’t realized that he had held his breath the rest of the way over. James removed his hat and fanned some air into his flushed face. He looked around for Eleanor but she was gone. He sighed in relief that the whole encounter was over.
James tried the door to the Sheriff’s office but it was locked. He decided to wait for the Sheriff to return. He didn’t want to leave the mirror unattended. Even sitting before the Sheriff’s office, he knew the mirror would disappear with some handsy passerby. James sat on a dusty stool and watched the street full of people.
Suddenly, a man on a horse screamed at James from down the street. He sat up straight as the rider neared. James wondered what the man could want and why he had to shout so loud, creating a scene. The man spat a wad of chaw as he tugged the horse’s reins.
“Whatcha wanna blind ever’one?”
“Huh?”
“I said, whatcha wanna blind ever’one? That dang looking glass is burnin’ my eyes clear across the town.” The man pointed at the mirror with a long, dirty fingernail.
James glanced at the mirror and realized it was reflecting the sun light to a focused point down the street. “Oh, sorry, Mister. I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble.” He tipped his hat to the rider and busied himself turning the mirror toward the office.
“Next time be more careful ‘afore I give ya a whippin’.”
James spun around. “No need to get all sore, fella. I said I was sorry. And I’m moving the mirror, aren’t I?” James was surprised at how quick the sass shot out of his mouth. It dawned on him that his temper kept showing itself now that he had gotten involved in all these high-stress situations.
“Eh, if that there ghost weren’t gonna kill ya then I’d hop down from this here horse and do it myself.” He spat again.
“You could try.” James did it again. But he wasn’t about to be threatened by some dirty rider who didn’t live in town. The guy was here on business and James figured he didn’t owe the man anything.
The rider’s eyes opened wide and he slid out of the saddle. As he tied up his horse, James tossed his hat on the stool and started rolling up his sleeves. The man was a little bit bigger than him but James didn’t care. He just wanted to land one set of knuckles on the guy’s nose and the beating would then be worth it.
Just then, a huge hand clutched James’ shoulder. It was the Sheriff.
“Best be on your way, Mister.”
The rider stopped in his tracks. His eyes darted from James to the Sheriff’s badge and back to James.
“This must be yer lucky day, boy. Guess I’ll leave ya ta the ghostly gunslinger anyhows.” He took a step back. “Can’t wait fer yer funeral.” He tipped his hat. “Sheriff.”
James watched the man untie his horse and climb up. The man grinned a toothless grin at James and galloped away. James turned to face Sheriff Morgan. The Sheriff shook his head and laughed under his breath. James heard him say, “You got some acorns, kid.”
Chapter 22
James setup the mirror in the middle of the street, about fifty yards in front of the clock tower. He draped a wool blanket over it. When the time was right, James planned to remove the blanket so the gunslinger would see his reflection. He hoped it would work because there was no alternate plan.
The street was empty. The sound of the wind created an eerie whoosh that swept along the wooden porches and funneled to the end of town. James glanced up at the clock tower. It showed ten minutes to noon. There was no turning back. James swallowed a lump of saliva.
Sheriff Morgan showed up. He held his Winchester rifle in one hand, pointing the muzzle at the reddish soil.
“Any final thoughts?”
James swallowed again. “Yeah, can I go home?”
The Sheriff chuckled. “That’s funny.” He tilted his hat brim back, revealing crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. “You call him out and then trigger the trap. I’ll back you up from the rooftop above Miller’s.” He pointed to the perch with the barrel of the rifle.
&
nbsp; “What good is backup with a gun? I thought the bullets passed through him last time?”
“They did.”
“So, what then?”
“Maybe it will be different this time. You know. When he catches his reflection.”
“What if it isn’t different this time?”
“Then I’ll be in position to end it for you…before you suffer.”
James’ jaw dropped. He didn’t like the sound of that. He had already been awake all night, contemplating his potential death today. But the finality of the backup bullet to put him out of his misery made it all too real. James wondered if he had time to evacuate his bowels.
Sheriff Morgan smiled at James and punched his shoulder. “Look at the bright side, kid. In ten minutes, it’ll all be over. One way or another.”
James tried to nod but he was frozen from his skull to his boots.
The Sheriff shook James out of his funk with more instructions on timing and positioning. They ran through their gear checks and wished each other luck.
“Keep your chin up, James. At least you had the courage to stand up and do something. Unlike the rest of the town.” Sheriff Morgan patted James on the shoulder and turned to leave. He stopped and looked at James again. “You are one of a kind, James. Regardless of what happens today, nobody can take anything away from you. You took a chance to save these people. Live or die, you’re a hero in my books.” Sheriff Morgan walked off.
James watched the Sheriff with tears in his eyes. His heart throbbed with pride that he was recognized for his bravery. Within seconds, he went from self-doubt to realizing his dream come true. Somebody considered him a hero. Isn’t that what he always wanted? Didn’t he dream and strive to reach a moment like this? His thoughts reverted back to Crouching Bear and the epic battle. People patted him on the back and called him hero when he returned to town. But it hadn’t hit home like the Sheriff’s comments. Maybe he was too shell-shocked from his maiden journey. Or too exhausted.
James wiped some tears from his cheeks with the back of his sleeve. He gazed at the sky to take in the calm blueness. Cottony clouds drifted by without knowledge of the impending fight. The serenity of the heavens washed over James. He felt inconsequential on the precipice of this major event. He realized the sky would still be blue tomorrow. The sun would still shine. The universe didn’t care about James or these townspeople.
He took one more look around the town. The windows were empty. Doors were locked down. Just James and the dusty breeze were all that breathed at this moment. James glanced up at the clock tower and the minute hand paused a few strikes before noon. His heart palpitated and he found himself trying to catch his breath as the present fused with the past.
His hand wandered to the back of his belt loop. The warm gun handle gave him comfort even if it was useless against a spirit. Better to have than not to have, he thought. He pulled the pistol out and inspected the cylinder. Spinning it in his fingers he counted the six rounds that nestled inside. He replaced the gun in his belt and patted the handle twice to show his respect for his protector.
The wool blanket draped over the mirror bristled in the gentle breeze. A gust surged and the end of the blanket flared up, revealing the lower side of the mirror perched upon the wooden legs. James smoothed the blanket down to keep it from flying away. The breeze abated.
James glanced back at the clock. One minute to noon. He turned on his heels and faced the desolate street. He sighed a deep breath and cracked his finger knuckles. He knew there was no turning back now. The hour had arrived and he had to answer for the promises he made.
The saliva in James’ mouth dried up and he swallowed a gulp of air. He wished he had a drink of water or something to bring his mouth back to life.
The clock chimed.
James dug his boot heels into the soil. His eyes scanned the avenue for movement.
Dong!
His mind drew a blank as he tried to recall what he had planned to say to elicit the gunslinger.
Dong!
A crow cawed and flew off, almost as if it sensed a presence. An unseen evil.
Dong!
James stole a glance out of the corner of his eye to the roof of Miller’s General Store. He knew it was strange, but he didn’t want to divulge the Sheriff’s position in case the gunslinger watched him.
Dong!
James tried to remember how many times the clock had chimed. He lost count and now felt like he would be caught off guard if he couldn’t be prepared to spring into action.
Dong!
Dang it, how many was that? James screamed at himself in his mind.
Dong!
Each chime echoed between the barren edifices, making the sound more ominous.
Chapter 23
The saloon was packed. It was practically standing room only as the townspeople waited for the show. When the Sheriff told everyone to leave town for a few hours, a contingent of people chose to stay, regardless of the danger involved. They swore to Sheriff Morgan that they would congregate in the saloon only, thus minimizing their exposure. Sheriff Morgan argued against it but in the end he relented. There were just too many rebels to lock up in his small jail. So he told them they stayed at their own risk. The only person who was excited was the undertaker.
Sarah was stuffed in the middle of the mob. She glanced over at Miss Lark who chewed a fingernail in the back corner of the bar. Sarah snickered to herself since Miss Lark appeared to be dressed in her best outfit. She thought the woman was strikingly beautiful. But she wasn’t ready to hand James over to her. Not yet.
The saloon was silent. Nobody uttered a word as they nervously awaited the showdown. The only sound was an occasional clink of a mug or a stifled cough. Each individual acted as if the slightest noise might attract the gunslinger’s attention their way. And nobody was willing to risk it.
Sarah had fought to get this far through the crowd. She eventually gave up since it was just too dense to wriggle toward the front. She desperately wanted a front row seat so that she could keep her motherly eyes on her son. The more she contemplated it, this spot in the middle of the crowd would be better. If James were to be killed, she would rather hear about it from the folks than witness it herself. She hoped that wouldn’t be the case. But she was extremely worried about James’ chances. After all, he was taking on a ghost. Not a flesh and blood being that could be overcome or conquered. A ghost. An ethereal spirit that couldn’t be seen nor hurt by human hands. A bead of sweat formed along her forehead.
Sarah made eye contact with several patrons. Some folks nodded silently at her to acknowledge her family’s valor and sacrifice on their behalf. A few others grimaced or snarled in her direction. Even as James risked everything to help them, they despised him for existing. She made a mental note of the men who treated her in this fashion. She would be sure to set them with the fattest and ugliest whores in the brothel. Sarah thought to herself that it was little solace to control their sexual pleasure. But it was something she could hang on to.
She realized that Carson was no longer by her side. He had clung to her as she made her way through the mob. Somewhere along the way she had gotten too distracted to recognize that he was gone. Sarah twisted her neck to search the heads amongst her. It was no use, she thought. Carson was too small and she would never find him in this sea of filthy humanity. She ached to call out his name but if she did, she knew the saloon would react harshly. She wiggled herself lower to attempt to peer through the arms and legs of the crowd. A man alongside Sarah leaned into her with all his weight. Apparently he wasn’t pleased with the nudging of her body. He kept the pressure up until she squeezed his nuts through his trousers. Sarah placed a gentle but firm grip on them. He got the message and backed away as far as he could. She winked at him sarcastically.
Beneath all the human cargo, Sarah struggled to find Carson. Between dusty chaps and hoop skirts, every nook and cranny was filled. She gave up and raised herself to a normal level. She thought briefly
about shouting Carson’s name. Her senses returned and she bit her lower lip to maintain her composure.
Sarah wondered if Carson had slinked off to the back of the bar. He was a shy child at times. It may have been caused by all the instances that he had been mistreated or teased for being slow. It was sad how mean people could be, she thought. And it wasn’t just children who picked on him and called him names. It was adults too. Grown adults who went to church each Sunday to worship a God who taught them to love one another and treat others as you would have them treat you. Yet, they abused the boy as if he were sub-human, and not protected by the same God that took care of them. Sarah clenched her fists as she reflected on the hypocrisy of them all.
The clock tower chimed.
A shock wave of stiffening spread through the crowd. Each person tensed for the coming battle. Sarah’s stomach shot up to her throat and back down again. She began to pray for James. She glanced at Miss Lark. The woman just stared back at her with wide eyes. Fear etched along her mouth.
Sarah wished she could see James one more time. What if she never saw him alive again? She had given him a quick hug and kiss this morning because she didn’t like long goodbyes. In hindsight, Sarah wished she had held him just a little longer. Memories of James as a baby and toddler flashed before her eyes.
Dong!
Tears filled Sarah’s eyes no matter how hard she strained to avoid them. Sarah was scared about how much time was left before James would win or lose…his life.
Silence filled the air. Not one person made a sound. But the crowd leaned ever so slightly toward the windows and doorway. The echo of the chimes replayed in Sarah’s ears. Her brain tried to fill in the gaps where there was once sound.
Her heart pounded so hard she thought everyone around her could hear it.
