by W. R. Benton
“He'll live; now, you get to Kansas City and we'll be along directly. Now, if we run into problems along the way, we might be a little late getting there, but you wait for us.”
“I'm gonna get me a room, a woman, and a bottle of w hiskey.”
“You do that. Hurry now, because we're going to head west in a few minutes.”
Sam opened the door and then, as he tried to c lose it quickly, a bullet came through wood, just missing his head, and a gunshot was heard.
“Posse out there. I saw three or four men.” Sam said, his eyes wide in amazement.
“You in the shack, come out with your hands up and you'll not be harmed.” an unk nown voice yelled.
“You out there, go to hell!” Samuel yelled and then grinned.
While casing out the bank, Dutch thought something like this might happen, so he had made an effort to make sure they'd escape if cornered. He had dug down in the dirt floor and made it open to the other side of a back wall. Essentially, all he had to do was drop in the hole and then come up on the other side of the wall and be outside. The problem was, he had to get Sam to cover them as they made a getaway.
He'd al so bought a box of dynamite to clear stumps, or so he'd told the man at the general store. He now lit a fuse, jerked the door open and tossed the explosive to the bushes. A few seconds later, it exploded.
Like a big kid, Sam asked, “Can I throw some of 'em?”
“Listen, I want you to stay here and toss this TNT at the posse. While you're doing this I'll take Bill, get him on a horse, then we'll come and get you, so we can make a break. Can you do this?”
“Oh, hell, yes. Go and I'll wait for ya.”
Dutch handed a stick of dynamite to Sam and said, “Have at it. I'll take your money too because when I ride by here, you'll have to move fast to get mounted, okay?”
“No, my money stays with me.” He lit th e fuse, tossed the stick, and then pulled out another one.
“Okay, but keep looking for us. We'll ride right up to the front door for you.”
“Fetch the horses now. I'll wait.”
“Bill, let's go, but me first.” Dutch said as he pulled his pistol, slid into the hole, and then came out on the other side. He looked around but saw no one. Then, Bill popped up beside him.
There sounded a loud explosion, followed a minute later by another and then crazy laughter.
They moved toward their horses, money in hand. The animals were kept saddled and ready to go, so when they reached them, they'd mount and be gone in seconds.
Near the corral, Bill touched his left arm and pointed at a fat man with a shotgun. He'd been placed there to prevent the robbers from reaching their horses, so placing his money on the ground, Dutch pulled his skinning knife and made his way toward the man. The portly man was watching the dynamite explode, so once near the preoccupied man, Dutch threw his left arm around his neck tightly and stabbed him four times in the back. The big man tried to break free and his sta bbing seemed to have no effect on the man. Dutch, angry because the man wouldn't die, ran the razor sharp blade over his throat.
Hearing the man choking on his own blood, Dutch ran for Bill and his money.
Chapter 5
LEW rode to the white house with the blue shutters in the valley. He dismounted in the bar nyard where a pack of mixed breed dogs began to bark and raise hell. A man that looked old enough to be Susan's pa came out the front door with a shotgun in his hands.
If this was Charles Gunn, he looked like the town drunk. He wore about a week's beard, hair disarrayed, and his clothing filthy. When he neared, Lew could smell the whiskey and urine on him. He smelled like he'd been on a two week drunk and his breath reeked of alcohol.
“What do ya want?” Charles asked, his words slurred.
“Howdy, do. I'm Reverend John Stoner and I've come to bring you word that April is in Doctor Todd's office. Do you know him? Seems she was shot in the back.”
“Light and come in for coffee or whiskey, I'm Charles, Susan's husband.”
When the man extended his hand to shake, Lew saw the barrel of the shotgun lower. He took the man's hand in his and then using his left fist, knocked him to the ground hard. He then kicked Charles three times and, picking up t he shotgun, began beating him with the stock.
Finally, he stopped to avoid killing the man and said, “This is your only warning, Gunn! If you ever hurt your woman again, drunk or sober, I'll come back and cut your throat. Do you understand me?”
When the badly bleeding man didn't reply, Lew kicked him twice more.
“By God, I asked you a question and expect an answer!”
“I'll leave her . . . leave her be. I'll not hit her again.”
“You shot her the last time, you sorry sonofabitch.”
“S . . . shot her? No, I'd never shoot April.”
“You callin' me a liar?”
“No, no, I'm not. I was, was drunk.”
“You either leave here and now, or swear off the booze. She knows how to contact me and if she sends me the word, you're a dead man. Do you understand me?”
Charles mumbled something, so kicking him hard again, Lew said, “Louder. I want to hear you.”
“I'll leave. Leave me . . . be and I'll get . . . up directly and leave. She ain't much . . . of a woman anyway.”
Tempted to kick the man again, Lew said, “She's more of a woman than you are a man. Does beating a woman make you feel tough, Charles? Try beatin' on me, you bastard. Now, get up, packed and gone. I'll wait o ut here until you leave. Try to shoot me, and they'll bury you here.”
Pulling a half pint of whiskey from his coat pocket, Charles killed it and tossed the empty bottle to the packed soil of the barnyard. He gained his legs and moved toward the house. He was tempted to take a shot at Lew from inside the house, but had enough sense to realize he was drunk, so he'd likely miss. He gathered up anything of value, took her egg money, and made his way to the barn. Ten minutes later he rode from the place moving north, with a big mutt of a dog with him.
“Lord, my God, I ask you to forgive my violence as well as my tongue. I only wanted to help her and get him to stop drinking to excess. Show him and her the way to salvation, Lord. This I ask in the name of Jesus, amen.” His prayer complete, he mounted his horse and rode back toward Dr. Todd's office.
Once back in town, he stopped at the saloon for a beer and to listen to the local gossip. He knew if the murder of Oaks was out, he'd hear about it in a saloon first. As he sipped his beer, he heard that a member of the group who'd broken o ut of the Jefferson City prison, was arrested this morning by the sheriff in town. Seems the drunken fool reported being robbed of $10,000 by a whore he'd spent the night with. When questions were asked, he had no explanation of why he had so much money on him or how he'd earned it either. Then, when scanning some wanted posters the man's image was found. From that point, it was easy to arrest the man, after telling him they had the whore locked up, which they did not. He'd even walked to the jail to identify her. He was currently awaiting a trial, which most thought would bring a hanging.
Lew finished his beer and ordered a second with a double rye whiskey. He'd just thrown b ack his hard alcohol when in walked Charles Gunn, packing a big shotgun, the same 10 gauge he'd had at his place. His face and head was still bleeding from Lew's beating, and he looked like hell. His eyes were swollen and blood covered his homespun hunter green shirt.
“I thought I'd find you in here, Reverend Stoner, 'cause ya wasn't at the doctor's office when I kilt 'em. I'm goin' to kill you for beatin' my ass earlier, Reverend! You had no right to beat me like that. Now when people see me they'll talk about how some mild mannered preacher man beat my ass.”
“You killed who, Charles?” Lew said, trying to keep the man talking, because a sawed off shotgun made a hell of an injury to a man and right now, it was pointed right at him.
“April and Doctor Todd. They died hard, both of 'em.”
“I didn't hear a shot, and have you been drin
king `?”
“I cut 'em both with a knife, and you're damned straight I been drinkin'. I'm a grown ma n and, by God, I'll drink when I want.”
Suddenly the batwing doors swung open and in stepped a deputy. He had a pistol in his right hand and it was cocked. He stood at the end of bar and said, “Put the scatter-gun down, Charles, and do the job now.”
“I cain't Billy, 'cause this preacher man shamed me by beatin' my ass. He's got to die.”
“Why, Charles? Ain' t a man here that ain't had his ass beat at some time or another.”
“I kilt April and Doctor Todd too, so I'll hang for that.”
“They ain't dead, Charles, I just talked with both of 'em.”
“Yer a damned liar! I j ust sliced the living hell out of both of 'em and esp ecially that bitch April. She's evil and controlling.”
“Put the gun down and let's talk. If I put my gun in my holster will you lay the shotgun on the top of the bar? You don't want to kill Reverend Stoner and have God mad at you, do you?”
“Me and God ain't exactly . . . good friends these days, but no, I don't . . . I don't, want Him mad at me too. Put your pistol up and . . . I will, . . . I'll give thought to putting my shotgun on the bar.”
“Look Charles, my pistol is back in my holster.”
As soon as he saw the pistol was in the holster, Charles turned the shotgun toward his own face, closed his eyes and jerked the trigger. The blast of the big bore shotgun was loud in the saloon. The huge mirror behind the man shattered and what glass that remained on the wall was splattered with blood, brains, shards of bone and gore. His body fell lim ply to the sawdust floor, where it shuddered and jerked with his death throes.
When Lew looked at the man, the top half of his head missing, and he knew death had come instantly to Charles. Blood now leaked from his mangled head and ran into the sawdust.
“Officer, I heard you're called Billy, and I assume that's your first name.” Lew said.
“Yes, I'm Billy Mathis. Damn me, but what a mess. I don't know how or why he thought he'd killed April and Doc Todd, because they're at the diner eating supper.”
“In his continuous drunken state, his mind may have been having fits or something. But, you're sure they're b oth safe?”
“I was eating supper with them just minutes before I walked in here. I was actually looking for him, to lock him up for shooting April, but my God, I didn't think this would happen.”
“I tried to beat some sense into him earlier, only as you can see, he took it poorly.” Lew said and then said, “Give me a double rye.”
The door to the saloon opened and in rushed Doctor Todd, black bag in hand. He took one glance at the body on the floor and said, “Oh, shit, he's dead. While I think April's lu cky, I suspect she'll take this hard. She really loves the sober Charles.”
“The sober man was gone forever. Any idea why he stayed roostered?” Billy asked.
“The war bothered him, according to April. Seems one day him and four others were the only survivors out of a hundred man c ompany following a ball buster of a fight. The Yanks kicked their asses and he couldn't forget it, ever. He'd do fine until he started thinking about the war and then he'd hit the John Barley Corn hard. Lately he was almost constantly thinking of the war, so he stayed drunk. I take it he killed himself?”
“Yes, yes he did.” Lew replied and then took a sip of his rye.
Looking around he saloon, Todd said, “If any two of ya will carry him to the undertaker, I'll buy ya both a drink.”
Two big cowboys moved forward and the bartender said, “And, I'll buy y'all your second drink. Dead bodies seem to turn customers away. Damn me, that mirror cost me almost two hundred dollars.”
“I can bill his widow iffen you want, Ox.” Billy said.
“Oh, no, I can't be that greedy. I'll replace it. Charles was a good man every single time I saw him in here. I never heard him even raise his voice. Tell April I'm sorry this happened.”
“I'll do that.” Billy said, as he wrote some information down in a small book he carried.
“Listen, Reverend, would you break the news of his death to his wife? I think she'd take it easier if a man of the cloth told her.” Doctor Todd asked.
“I can do that, but where is she?”
“As far as I know, she's still in the Blue Goose Cafe eating.”
“Give me another double.” Lew said to the bartender.
As the drink was poured, Billy said, “You're t he first man of the cloth I've ever seen, besides some catholic priests, that is fond of drink.”
“I'm a non-denominational preacher. I don't think drink is to blame for some men being drunks, but rather their using strong drink as an escape. Alcohol is an innate object and cannot hurt anyone that does not drink of it. I preach moderation in all things” Lew lied. He'd been a devout Baptist.
He gulped the drink down, gave a drunken grin, and as he put his hat on, he said, “I will now speak with Mrs. Gunn.”
“Thank you, Reverend Stoner.” the doctor said, and Billy n odded at him.
He wobbled his way across the street and down to the cafe. He stepped inside, removed his hat and spotted April right off, sitting alone at a table.
He walked to her, met her eyes and she asked, “Something has happened, hasn't it?”
He nodded, pulled out a chair and said, “Charles is dead, April. He took his own life just a few minutes ago.”
“That must have been the shot we heard. Doctor Todd thought someone might need him, so he left me here.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Well, I'm not. I was tired of getting the livin' hell beat of me anytime he'd been drinking. I once loved him, but the punches knocked that love right out of me. At least dead he'll never cause me pain and fear ever again. I guess you think I'm cold, huh?”
“No, I can clearly understand your feelings. What now?”
“I have no idea. I guess I'll sell the place and move on, but to where? I have no family and his family is useless, just like he was.”
“Will you be returning home?”
“Yes, of course, but I'll have to return tomorrow to speak to the banker about getting top dollar out of my place.”
“If you don't mind, I'll escort you home.”
“I would be honored to have a man of God see me home. Let me gather my few things at the doctor's office.”
“First, let me escort you to the doctor's office, and while you are there I'll rent a buggy from the livery stables.” Lew said as he thought, Shes not loved Charles for a long time, because where are the tears for him? No, this woman is not full of grief, but of relief, and there is a big difference.
After taking April home it was late when Lew got back into town, after midnight. He turned the buggy into the hired hand at the livery stable, had his horse pulled and saddled. He then walked the animal up the street to the hotel. He entered the lobby and made his way back to the saloon, where he had a beer. Glancing at the clock above the shelves of whiskey bottles, he saw it was almost one in the morning.
He ordered a double rye, threw it back and then made his way outside. Keeping to the shadows, he made his way to the jail. He waited in the darkness for the deputy to leave to make his rounds and once he was out of sight, Lew entered the jail. He saw the cells were in a locked room and though he looked around, he didn't see the keys.
He could only see one prisoner so pulling his sawed off shotgun from under his duster, he pointed it toward the sleeping form and then yelled, “It was my wife and daughters you raped and then killed, you sorry bastard.”
“I . . . I didn't rape nobody!” The man stood, which is what Lew hoped he'd do, so he had more of a target.
“You're a liar!”
“No, I swear, I never touched a one of them —”
Both barrels of the shotgun went off, filling the small jail with a loud blast, and the prisoner was knocked back hard, as if kicked by a horse. His body jerked and twitched, because the big ten gauge almost cut
him in half.
The preacher turned killer said, “As the Good Book says, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. Lord, judge the worthless scum I just sent you as you see fit. I'm sure he'll not walk on the streets made of gold.” He then broke into a loud almost insane laugh.
Lew quickly reloaded the shotgun, picked the ejected shells up from the floor, and made his way outside to the darkness. Once in the shadows, he slo wly made his way back to his room. When he passed by the front desk, the clerk was asleep.
In his room he packed, cleaned his shotgun, along with the rest of his weapons, and then woke the night clerk so he could check out of the hotel. He saw it was a little after three in the morning, when the clerk gave him a receipt.
“I hope you enjoyed your stay.” the c lerk said and then yawned.
“I'm sorry to wake you at this hour, but I need to leave early in order to start my trip. I intend to put in a full day.”
Glancing at the clock behind him, which Lew wanted him to do, the clerk said, “It's okay, sir. I'm paid to be here at night. Did you hear a noise earlier this evening? It sounded like a boom to me.”
“I heard something, and that's what woke me. I hope we're not in for a rain. I hate to get wet and then have to ride for hours.”
“I don't think it's rain, or I'd of h eard more noise. Probably some drunk cowboy shootin' off some steam after the saloon closed. Be sure to stay with us when you're in town again.”
“Oh, I will for sure. Y'all run a nice place here.”
Tossing the clerk two bits as a tip for his outstanding sleeping, Lew turned and walked out of the hotel.
He tied his stuff to the back of his saddle, placed his shotgun in a sheath on the right side and his Henry in a sheath on the left side. He kept his fish out, laughing silently at the name the cowboys had given a raincoat, and tightened his cinch strap.
It was when he was working on the cinch, that from behind him he heard a voice, “You're up early, reverend.”
“I always start a trip early, deputy. How's your night going?”
“Fair, but it's better than my prisoner's, because he was killed while I was making my rounds.”