The Last River

by Leon Loy

  “Get off her,” Caleb shouted, his eyes fixed like steel on the man.

  Buck saw the carbine in the dirt near him. He rolled off of Sparrow, clutched the carbine, and continued his roll under the pinto’s legs. Caleb held off shooting again for fear of hitting Sparrow, or the horse. He thumbed back the hammer, and walked toward them, waiting for a clear shot.

  The sight of her husband triggered an eruption of emotions which nearly overwhelmed Sparrow. It was all she could do to restrain herself from bursting into tears.

  Scrambling clear of the pinto’s stomping feet, Buck levered a shell into the chamber of the carbine, and from his position on the ground, fired at Caleb. The bullet missed, and Caleb kept coming—walking in measured, unhurried steps.

  Buck levered and fired a second time. The bullet grazed Caleb’s side, just above the gun belt, forcing him to stop for a split second. Only fifteen feet separated them.

  “I’m going to kill you, Buck,” Caleb said.

  Buck rose to his knees, and levered a shell into the chamber. As he brought the rifle to his shoulder, Caleb fired, his bullet clipping Buck’s ear. Buck flinched, and pulled the trigger at the same time. His shot struck Caleb’s forearm, and the Schofield dropped to the ground.

  Caleb charged at Buck, slamming into him. Both men fell beneath the pinto’s legs.

  The horse screamed, stomping and kicking. Hooves struck both men as they locked together, fingers gripping one another’s throats. Finally, they tumbled out from under the horse. Caleb’s wounded forearm caused his grip to weaken, and Buck took advantage, pinning him down.

  “She is mine,” he growled through clenched teeth. “It is meant to be. You won’t stop me.”

  Caleb twisted and turned, but could not dislodge Buck. “You have lost your mind,” he growled back. “You’ll never take her again, as long as I live.”

  A confident glint appeared in Buck’s eyes as he realized Caleb’s strength was failing. He put his weight on the wounded arm, causing Caleb to cry out in pain.

  “That ain’t for long,” he said. “You are done for.”

  He gripped Caleb’s wind pipe. Another minute, he told himself, and I’ll crush his throat, and the clerk will be dead. Then, no one will stop me from taking my girl.

  Caleb felt pain like ice picks all the way up his arm, and through his neck. Water clouded his eyes, and he could not breathe. There was pressure building in his ears—and then there was no sound. His only thought was to stay alive. For Sparrow, he had to stay alive. He blinked to clear his vision, and glared into Buck’s eyes, trying to communicate through his stare; I will not give up, and you will not take Sparrow from me.

  As if in answer, the murderous look in Buck’s eyes suddenly went blank and unfocused. Simultaneously, his grip loosened on Caleb’s throat, and he slumped forward over him. Caleb shoved him off with his good arm, and rolled away, not understanding what was happening.

  His face was in the dirt and he coughed and gagged, fighting to breathe. He felt percussive air on the back of his neck, along with the faint sound of a gunshot.

  He looked up from the dirt, and saw Sparrow holding his revolver in her hands. Flame and smoke erupted from its muzzle, and the sound of the gun was louder this time. He saw Buck’s body lying beside him. She had shot him once in the head, and once in the back. He heard the metallic snap as the hammer fell on an empty chamber.

  She stared at Buck’s body, as though it might at any second rise. Again, she cocked the empty revolver and pulled the trigger.

  Caleb got to one knee, and took the Schofield from her hand. He kicked Buck’s body with the heel of his boot. “He’s dead,” he stated flatly.

  She looked at him, and slowly the terror in her eyes subsided at the realization that she and Caleb were safe. “Please, Caleb, make sure,” she said.

  Caleb kicked the body again, and said, “Oh, I’m sure. He’s dead.”

  Sparrow knelt beside her husband and examined his arm. The bullet had furrowed through the muscle of his forearm, just missing the bone in his elbow. There was blood, but it had missed the veins. She quickly found the towel used to wrap the sandwiches, and wound it around his arm.

  “This seems familiar, you bandaging me up,” Caleb said, attempting a smile.

  Instead of returning his smile, she gave him a stern look. “Let this be the last time; me bandaging you up, Caleb Thomason,” she retorted.

  “I won’t promise it,” he said.

  She sat down next to him, and they both stared at Buck’s body.

  After a while, she took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and turned to look at Caleb. Tenderness replaced the tension that had marked her face moments before. Her eyes—those extraordinary hazel eyes—conveyed hidden things to him. Deeper than thoughts, or emotions, or words. She opened her soul to him through those eyes, and he loved her more than ever.

  Around them, the world was still, and silent. There was only the wind whispering in the grass, and the occasional dull thud of the pinto’s hooves, as it shifted its weight.

  She took his hand and placed it on her belly, and told him with her eyes. When he understood, his face erupted into a grin.

  “Well, maybe I will promise it, Mrs. Thomason,” he said.

  Placing his hand behind her neck, he pulled her face to his, and kissed her deeply.

  THE END