by Jack Martin
The street now was filling with onlookers and for the first time in a long while Clem Bowden felt that things had grown beyond his control.
It was not a feeling he liked.
‘Masters.’ Sam Bowden looked first at his father and then at Cole. He seemed to be at a loss as to what to do next and his hands hovered dangerously close to his side arms. He felt the first tinge of fear as he looked into Cole Master’s eyes and then noticed the buckled tin star he wore.
Clem Bowden stepped down off the boardwalk and went and stood in front of his son. He looked first at the judge and then at Masters and for the first time in his life he knew what it was like to truly feel threatened.
This really wasn’t going the way he had planned it.
‘I’m Clem Bowden,’ he said and held out a hand to the judge but the gesture was refused and the judge looked through him towards Cole.
‘You’ll find what’s left of your two gunmen back on Squaw Mountain,’ Cole said. ‘They were responsible for that.’ He pointed with his rifle at Em’s body, his face revealed where Sam had pulled the shroud aside.
Em’s ghastly lifeless eyes seemed to be watching things unfold, mocking the Bowdens’ from beyond the grave.
Clem turned and took a long lingering look at the body and then he shook his head. ‘I don’t know any gunmen,’ he said with a faint smile. ‘I’m an honest businessman and my son’s the sheriff of this town.’
‘Your son’s a lying cheating killer,’ Cole said. ‘And that man there,’ again he motioned towards Em’s body, ‘was killed by a gunman who was in your employ. That makes you responsible. You’re as guilty as the man who pulled the trigger.’ He carefully reached into his shirt and removed the envelope containing the money. He tossed it into the street. ‘There’s the money you paid them.’
‘Nonsense—’ Clem started but his words were cut dead by Cole talking over him.
‘I’m arresting you both,’ Cole said. ‘You’ll both face trial for murder.’
‘She was just a goddamn whore,’ Sam shouted and ignored his father who was trying to silence him before he said anything more damning. ‘All this over a cheap whore who was of no account to anyone in any case.’
‘Shut up,’ Clem Bowden snapped but he knew that enough had already been said. If the judge wasn’t siding with Cole already, and he certainly appeared to be doing so, then this latest outburst had sealed the deal. It was obvious the judge had already accepted whatever turn of events Cole had told him and now his damn fool son had given all the evidence they needed to convict them both.
His son as a killer and he himself as an accomplice after the fact.
‘No I won’t shut up,’ Sam said and drew his Colt. He stepped backwards a few paces and held the gun covering both his father and Cole. ‘I’m sick and tired of being told to shut up. Well for once you can shut up, old man.’
‘Put the gun down,’ Cole said. He could see Bowden’s men run onto the street, weapons drawn but confused as to where to aim now that the son was threatening the father.
People ran every which way, looking for cover and Cole motioned with his eyes for the judge to do likewise. The judge seemed to understand and silently edged over towards the livery stable and then vanished into the alleyway.
‘I’m through taking orders from anyone,’ Sam Bowden said. ‘And that includes you, Masters.’
‘It’s over,’ Cole said. ‘You shoot now and your father won’t be able to buy you out of trouble. Put the gun down and let’s end this peaceable.’
‘Listen to him,’ Clem Bowden looked at his son with thunder in his face, his eyes were squinted tight and his mouth was pulled back into a grim scowl. ‘Drop the gun and don’t say anything else. We’ll let our lawyers handle this.’
‘Ain’t no fancy lawyer going to save you, old man.’ Cole smiled at Clem Bowden as he spoke. ‘You hired those killers who did for my best friend. You’re going to pay for that.’
‘I don’t know anything about any men, killer or otherwise,’ Clem Bowden insisted, speaking as cool as you like.
Cole had to give it to the elder Bowden. When it came to deviousness he was as good as they came and could certainly keep his head in a crisis. He looked around the street and counted seven of Bowden’s men, all armed. They stood there not believing what was unfolding before their eyes.
Cole wasn’t sure if the old man was armed or not but there were at least eight guns to contend with here. He was hoping that if he disarmed Sam then the old man would keep his men at bay and take his chances with the law.
His kind was arrogant enough to think their money could buy them out of any situation.
Well that wasn’t going to be the case this time.
The situation was remarkably similar to the one Cole had found himself in only a few days ago when Clem Bowden and ridden into town with the intention of releasing his son. The only difference was this time the Bowdens’ had turned against each other.
That could make it all the more dangerous
Cole looked at the star on his chest and made a silent vow that one way or another he was going to stand his ground.
‘This is your last warning,’ he said. ‘Drop the weapon. I intend to arrest you.’
‘Sam,’ Clem Bowden said firmly. ‘Drop the gun this instant.’
‘No,’ Sam yelled defiantly and fired.
The bullet took Clem Bowden in his the chest but somehow the old man remained standing. He stared at his son with disbelief in his eyes. He shook his head and then Sam fired again, blowing a hole in his gut and sending him punching back against the wall where he slid, dead, to the ground.
Sam Bowden took advantage of the confusion and unhitched the horse Cole had ridden in on from the rail. He jumped onto it and fired in Cole’s direction, forcing the sheriff to duck into the alleyway. With that he galloped along the street and headed out of town.
Cole came out of the alleyway and saw Sam disappear around the corner. He ran to old man Bowden and bent to him but he was already dead. He laid there, eyes open, staring towards a heaven he had no chance of entering. His men crowded around the sheriff and the body of their boss and not a single one of them made any move to fight.
‘Get him over to the undertakers,’ Cole said. ‘I need a horse.’
‘Take mine from the livery stable,’ the late Clem Bowden’s new foreman said. ‘The white pony.’
‘Thanks,’ Cole said. He noticed the judge standing in the street watching the mêlée with a look of horror upon his face.
Cole went to him and led him across the street to Jessie’s place before introducing him to the schoolteacher, requesting she look after him, and leaving town in pursuit of Sam Bowden.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cole heard the gunshot and instinctively rolled sideways in the saddle, pulling his horse to a sudden stop, he let himself fall. He hit the ground hard and came up in a crouch, weapon drawn and ready to fire. He used the cover of his horse running off to scramble behind a banking and he sat there, holding the gun at the ready, while he caught his breath.
Another shot. The bullet hit the banking and struck a stone before whistling off into thin air.
Cole shot back without any clear target and then peered over the banking. He could see Bowden, standing upon a banking that ran alongside an irrigation ditch. He fired again but missed and the bullet spat earth at Sam Bowden.
Cole ducked back down just as a bullet whizzed past his head.
It had been close.
For a moment there was the most perfect silence while both men waited for the other to make a move but then Sam Bowden shouted: ‘I killed my father.’
‘You did,’ Cole answered.
‘It’s your fault.’
‘No,’ Cole said. ‘You can’t even take responsibility for that. You’re a sorry excuse for a man and an even worse example of a son. You’re father went to the grave knowing what a waste of good air you are.’
‘Bastard,’ Sam Bowden yelled and let of
f another shot but all it found was the banking. Fine dirt sprayed into the air.
‘If it was anyone’s fault then maybe the blame lies with your father,’ Cole shouted and thumbed bullets into the chamber of the Colt. ‘He turned you bad. That first time, whenever that was, that he covered up for you, taught you that money and power could overcome any problem. It was then that this all started. From that moment on you were heading for this day.’
Sam Bowden screamed and shot several times in quick succession but all went wild. He had fired in fury and he crouched down so that the banking covered him while he reloaded.
Cole quickly realized that Bowden was temporarily out of ammunition and he ran to the side of the road and jumped down into a ditch. He figured the ditch would lead him up to Bowden since it skirted the road and ran upwards.
‘What say we make us a little deal?’ Bowden yelled and Cole used the cover of his voice to move forward. The bottom of the ditch was moist and his feet sunk with every step, making a squelching sound as he pulled them free.
‘What’s that matter Masters?’ Bowden yelled. ‘You lost your tongue?’
Cole froze, fearing that any moment now Bowden would realize he had moved and come looking for him. Cautiously he took a few steps forward and then rounded a corner. He could see Bowden up ahead, leaning over the banking trying to spot where he had got to.
Cole aimed his gun and stood perfectly still, taking aim on Sam Bowden. ‘Drop it,’ he said.
Bowden spun around in surprise and fired but his bullet went far wide of the mark and Cole fired back before he could aim and fire again. Bowden spun around, shot in the shoulder, and very nearly lost his footing but somehow he managed to stay upright and he fired again.
His bullet did nothing but Cole was much more accurate.
Sam Bowden yelled in pain as a bullet tore into his chest. His legs buckled beneath him but somehow he found the strength to fire again, sending a bullet whizzing dangerously close to Cole. Gritting his teeth against the pain he tried to stop his arm aching as he fired yet again.
Cole stood there like a stature and shot once more. He shot Bowden in the head, killing him instantly, sending brains and skull into the afternoon air.
‘Now it’s over,’ Cole said and went and removed the star from Bowden’s shirt. ‘Now it’s over.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cole stood looking down at the grave marker.
It’s been a year now, he thought. A year since Em passed, took that bullet up in the mountains. He bent and rubbed mould from the cross that was threatening to obscure the inscription he himself had carved.
Emlyn Royston Tanner, born: unknown. Died: 1879—a good friend dearly missed. Now resting with his maker.
Behind him there was a double plot, containing both Clem and Sam Bowden. And like Em’s the grave was well tended, with fresh flowers in the silver vase that sat below the headstone.
No one in town knew who tended to the Bowden plot but Cole knew and kept the knowledge a secret.
Folk wouldn’t understand.
He turned and walked away from the graveyard and met his wife who was waiting at the gates. Together they walked down the hill towards town, Cole carefully supporting the heavily pregnant schoolteacher.
The End of a
Piccadilly Publishing Western
By Jack Martin
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