Medicine Show

by Bill Crider

  "If he ain't dead," he said, "where the hell is he?"

  Ben had already thought of an answer for that one.

  "I bet he's at the medicine show with the rest of them," he said.

  Sam stood, freeing Ben's arms and stepping away from him.

  Ben rolled over on his back and sat up, brushing at his bleeding nose with the sleeve of his shirt. He left a smear of blood and dirt under his nose. His beard was full of dirt, but he didn't bother with that, though he did pick out a small stick that was bothering him. He looked around for his hat, which was lying nearby. He grabbed it and mashed it down on his head.

  "You know something, Ben?" Sam said.

  "No," Ben said. "What?"

  "You may be a son of a bitch, but sometimes you're smarter than you look."

  "That's good," Ben said, standing up. "I'm sorry I threw that whiskey bottle at you, Sam."

  Sam touched his forehead, where an egg-sized lump had formed.

  "Me too," he said.

  "What're we gonna do about Coy?" Ben said.

  "We're gonna see if he's at that medicine show," Sam said.

  "What if he is?"

  "This time, we're gonna kill him for sure."

  "I'll do it if you don't want to," Ben said. He wanted to make up for throwing the bottle.

  "Don't worry about that," Sam said. "I want to kill him, all right. And all the rest of those sorry bastards with him."

  Ben grinned. It sounded like a good plan to him.

  * * *

  Storey wondered why the Colonel and The Boozer were still outside the wagon.

  "Since you don't have pistols, you'd be a lot safer inside," he said.

  "The preacher doesn't have a gun," the Colonel said. "And he does not appear to be going inside."

  Storey had never known the Colonel to wear a gun, didn't even think the man owned one except for a rifle that he kept in the wagon. For someone who had expressed no interest in the military life that went with his assumed title, he was demonstrating a kind of courage that Storey equated with foolhardiness.

  "They did not shoot me last evening," the Colonel pointed out. "Why should they do it this time?" He believed that in facing up to Sam and Ben he had cowed them in some way, and he believed he could do it again.

  "You can't tell what they might do," Wilson said. "They've killed men before, plenty of 'em. They tried to kill me."

  "This is my show, and my wagon," the Colonel said. "I'm not going to hide from them." Clearly he meant it. He wasn't going inside.

  "I guess I won't hide either," The Boozer said. He thought, but did not add, that he really didn't have much to lose. The thought of getting killed didn't bother him in the least. There were times when it actually appealed to him, and this was one of those times.

  "You're both crazy," Wilson said. "But I appreciate you standing with me."

  Actually, Wilson was not standing now. He was sitting back down on the bench. He didn't feel like being on his feet any more than he had to.

  Storey sat down beside him. "Do you remember riding down a kid back in a Kansas street after a bank robbery a year of so back?" he said, speaking quietly so the others would not overhear.

  Wilson scrubbed his face with his hands. "Yeah, I remember. Did that preacher's wife tell you that, too?"

  "That kid was my brother," Storey said. "His name was Chet."

  "My God," Wilson said.

  "I've been looking for you a long time," Storey told him. "I thought it was Sam Hawkins I was looking for, but it was you all along."

  "I'm sorry," Wilson said. "God, I never meant to ride him down. There was shootin' and yellin' all around, and we were ridin' hard to get out of that damn place, and then he was just right there in front of me. I tried to swerve off when I saw him, but it was too late."

  "He thought the shots were fireworks," Storey said. "He was running to see the fireworks."

  Wilson didn't say anything for a minute. Then he said, "Why're you here with me now? You've got the only other gun. Why don't you just leave me here? You don't even have to kill me yourself. Sam and Ben will take care of me for you."

  "I wanted to kill you once," Storey said. "But not anymore. What happened wasn't even your fault. I know that now."

  "I don't know if I could ever feel that way," Wilson said. "Not if somebody killed my brother."

  "I didn't know I could feel that way, either. But I do."

  "And you're gonna help me?"

  "As much as I can," Storey said, wondering just how much that was going to be.

  * * *

  "Where the hell is ever'body," Ben said. He and Sam had ridden off the trail and into the trees to look the situation over. "You don't reckon they're all hidin' an waitin' for us do you?"

  Sam knew that wasn't the case. Those townies were gutless as a gopher.

  "They musta heard we were on the way and left," he said. "Prob'ly went back to town the long way around so they wouldn't run into us."

  Despite his conviction that there was no one there except those they could see near the wagon, Sam's eyes were scanning the trees and the shadows, checking to see if anyone was concealed in them. He had no intention of being surprised.

  But he could see no one there.

  "Just the five of 'em," he said. "That's all."

  "Looks like three of 'em don't even have guns," Ben said. "And old Coy don't look too pert. I reckon he's got a bullet or two in him."

  "That buckskin fella ain't fired a shot at us yet, either," Sam said. "I don't think we got much to worry about from him. Looks like easy pickin's to me."

  "Where do you reckon the women are?" Ben said. "That Injun girl was mighty spirited. I don't know as I trust her not to have a gun or a knife."

  "Prob'ly inside the wagon," Sam said.

  "You think we'll have time for the women?" Ben said. "I don't think any of those townies'll come after us, and it'll take a long time to get any other law on our tails."

  "We'll have a look in the wagon," Sam said. "Could be that our money's in there if the preacher's wife is." He smiled. "I guess it wouldn't be a bad idea to search her pretty close. The others, too."

  "Yeah," Ben said. "When we gonna do it?"

  "Now," Sam said.

  19

  They came without warning, riding hard out of the trees, their pistols spitting flame and lead.

  The Boozer went down first, spinning around and slamming against one of the wagon wheels. The Colonel leapt to him and knelt beside him, cradling his head in his arms.

  Wilson was next, dropped from the bench where he sat, his pistol falling from his suddenly limp fingers.

  The Reverend Stump fell to his knees. He was not hit, however. He was retrieving Wilson's pistol.

  Storey, to his immense shock, found that his own gun was in his hand and that he was firing it as rapidly as he could, sending shot after shot in the direction of the charging horses. He hadn't even been conscious of drawing the weapon, and he was hardly aware of having fired it.

  Then Sam and Ben were by them, roaring toward the trees on the other side of the clearing.

  Storey spit to get the dust out of his mouth and cleared the cylinder of his Colt, dropping the casings on the ground and thumbing in fresh cartridges.

  Stump sent a couple of wild shots after the Hawkinses from his position beside Wilson, emptying the pistol; then he started popping shells from Wilson's cartridge belt to reload.

  Ben and Sam were reloading as well.

  "I thought you said that buckskin bastard wouldn't shoot," Ben said. "He like to've shot me out of the damn saddle."

  "He didn't, though," Sam said.

  "I think we got old Coy that time," Ben said. "I guess it was me that done it."

  Sam didn't know whether Ben was taking the credit or the blame, but he didn't want to argue about it.

  "Sure," he said. "Now let's get the rest of them."

  They turned their horses back and attacked the clearing again just as Louisa stepped out of the
wagon with the rifle, a Winchester repeater.

  "Thank you, my dear," the Colonel said, letting The Boozer's head down gently and rising to take the rifle from her. "I suppose I'm going to have to use this."

  He was no better shot than Stump, but a rifle was something for Sam and Ben to reckon with. He blasted a couple of rounds into the dirt in front of the running horses, then raised his sights and sent one over the Hawkins brothers' heads.

  Stump fired a shot that somehow clipped Ben's reins. Ben's horse swerved aside just in time to save Ben from being killed by a shot from Storey, but the horse was running wild now, carrying Ben away into the trees. The Colonel loosed a round after him but hit nothing more than the branch of a pine tree, snipping it off the trunk. It brushed by Ben when it fell.

  Storey raised his pistol almost without thinking and fired a shot at Sam that hit him squarely in the center of the chest, lifting him six inches in the air and throwing him backward from the saddle.

  There was a look of terrible surprise in Sam's eyes as he hit the ground, a look that turned to a grimace of pain as he tried to stand. His knees were watery, and he could not seem able to lift his pistol. He kept trying, however, and Storey shot him again, sending him stumbling backward.

  He fell sprawling in the dirt and this time he didn't try to get up.

  Storey's ears were ringing from the firing as he walked over and looked down at Sam. There were two dark, spreading stains on the front of his filthy shirt. Sam's eyes stared blankly up at the rising moon.

  Storey holstered his Colt and reached down to feel for a pulse in the side of Sam's neck. There was none, and Storey imagined that Sam's body was already cooling.

  Here's the man I wanted to kill for so long, Storey thought, and now I've killed him.

  The trouble was that as things had turned out Sam was the wrong man, and Storey hadn't wanted to kill him anymore.

  When he'd wanted to do it, he hadn't been able; when he'd found out that Sam hadn't been the right one after all, he'd shot him. Somehow it seemed that when he'd stopped thinking about it, his body had just taken over and done it.

  I guess I wasn't a coward after all, Storey thought.

  Storey could not quite analyze his actions, but that didn't matter to Sam. He was just as dead one way as another.

  Storey was neither glad nor sad about that. Having just killed a man didn't make a lot of difference to him, either. Sam had been trying to kill Storey, and now Sam was dead. That seemed a fair exchange to Storey, and if Sam felt any different, well, he wasn't going to be telling anyone.

  Storey turned back to see about Wilson and The Boozer. Sophia and Louisa had joined the Colonel at The Boozer's side, while Naomi and Stump were looking after Wilson, not that anyone could be of much help to either man.

  The Boozer had been hit in the chest, much like Sam Hawkins. He was still alive, but only barely.

  He looked up at Storey. "Do you remember what I said about knowing when the time had come?" he said. His voice was weak and raspy.

  "I remember," Storey said.

  "Good," The Boozer said. "Now you know what I was talking about."

  Louisa looked at Storey. She understood even if he didn't.

  "I guess I do," Storey said, though he really wasn't sure.

  The Boozer didn't have any more to say. His head slumped back and his breathing stopped.

  Wilson was as good as dead, too, shot in the stomach this time. He lingered for a bit longer than The Boozer, however, and his pain was worse. He didn't seem to mind that part. He had something else on his mind.

  "I really am sorry about your brother," he told Storey.

  "It's all right," Storey said. He was sure about that. "It was just an accident."

  "I shouldn't have been there for it to happen," Wilson said.

  "Maybe Chet shouldn't have been there. All I know is that I don't blame you for it any longer," Storey said.

  "That's good to know," Wilson said. "About that money Sam and Ben and I took, Preacher--"

  "What about it?" Stump said.

  "I still have most of it. It's in the safe at the jail. I'd be obliged if you could see that folks get it back."

  "I'll do my best," Stump said.

  "Thanks," Wilson said. "I 'preciate it."

  He closed his eyes and didn't say any more. In a few minutes he was dead.

  The Reverend Stump closed Wilson's eyes and put his pistol back in its holster. For a wonder he didn't feel guilty about having taken it up, and he knew that the destruction in his church, no matter what its extent, was not a result of his having done so the first time. A man can turn the other cheek when he's slapped, but when he's shot at he sometimes has to shoot back.

  "I believe we should go back to town and check on things," he told Naomi. "We have a lot of work to do."

  "I for one am not entirely convinced that your town is worth it," the Colonel said. He had liked The Boozer quite a bit more than he had ever put into words.

  "It's worth it," Stump said. "The people there are no better or no worse than those anywhere. They are simply dedicated to their own survival, as are most of us."

  "Not all, though," Sophia said. "You stayed to help, Mr. Stump."

  "I didn't stay. I came back," he reminded her. "My first impulse was to leave like the rest."

  "But you did return," the Colonel said. "We thank you for that."

  "You are most welcome," Stump said. "Believe me, I have received as much from you as you have gotten from me."

  "Then that is the way things are supposed to work," the Colonel said. "We would appreciate it if you would send the undertaker for our friend Dr. Stuartson and the sheriff. I will pay for the burial of Dr. Stuartson."

  "I would be honored to conduct his service," Stump said.

  The Colonel felt that was an excellent idea.

  "The town will take care of the sheriff," Stump said. "There's no need for them to know the things Naomi learned."

  "Of course not," his wife said. "He proved his worth at the last. We can get that money from the jail and put it with the rest that I found last night."

  "As for the other man lying over there--" the Colonel said.

  "As for him, Tal Thurman can shovel him under the best way he can," Stump said. "The man is not deserving of a Christian burial. And as for Ben--"

  "I hope we've seen the last of him," Naomi said. "Surely he won't return after this."

  "Remember what Wilson said," Storey told them. "You can't tell what Ben might do."

  Stump nodded agreement. "That is a sad fact," he said.

  * * *

  Ben was watching them from the trees, having gotten control of his horse and returned after tying the reins together.

  He could see them everyone, all of them outlined sharply by the bright light of the hovering moon.

  He could see Sam's body more clearly than anything as it lay apart from the others, totally disregarded by everyone.

  Large round tears rolled from his eyes and into his matted beard. "Goddammit, Sam," he said. "They killed you, Sam, Goddammit."

  They were going to be sorry for that, he promised himself. He was going to make them sorry.

  He watched as they picked up the bodies of The Boozer and Coy Wilson and laid them out head to head on the bench where Wilson had been sitting.

  They left Sam lying in the dirt.

  He watched as Stump fetched his buggy and helped Naomi up.

  Then he knew what he was going to do.

  * * *

  "I'll ride back to town with you," Storey said. "Just in case Ben Hawkins is out there somewhere." He didn't know how much protection he would offer. Having done something once did not mean he could do it again. But he figured that having a man with a gun riding along would be better than having no gun at all.

  "We'd be grateful for your company," Stump said. "But what about your friends here?"

  "They can get inside the wagon. That'll give them plenty of protection. And they have the rifle."
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  "I'm not enough of a marksman to be much of a threat to anyone," the Colonel said. "But the wagon is solid. No one will be able to get inside."

  Storey went to saddle his horse. Louisa followed him.

  "I want you to know that I understand what happened tonight," she said.

  "That's good," Storey told her. "I don't."

  "Never mind," she said. "You will." She put a hand on his arm to stop him. When he looked at her, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. Then she turned and walked back to the wagon.

  Storey watched her go. He understood that, all right, and he knew that his relationship with Louisa had changed considerably in the last day or so. To his surprise, he found that he was happy about it.

  He had often wondered what he would do if he ever found Sam Hawkins and killed him. Now he knew. At least for a little while, he would continue to be the Colonel's Kit Carson. Maybe for a long time.

  He saddled his horse, joined the Stumps, and they headed back into town.

  * * *

  Ben was waiting for them.

  He had expected only the preacher and his wife, but he didn't mind at all seeing Storey. That just made things that much better. He could kill him and then take care of the other two.

  Having seen Storey shoot and kill Sam, Ben didn't plan to give Storey a chance to do the same for him. He drew his pistol and shot from the concealment of the trees.

  He was gratified to see Storey fall sideways from his horse and hit the ground with a thud.

  The preacher's wife screamed, and the Reverend Stump grabbed his whip and touched up his horse, but it didn't do any good. Ben raced past where Storey had fallen and caught Stump and Naomi before they'd gone fifty yards, reaching down and grabbing the reins and bringing the buggy to a halt.

  "Well, now, preacher," he said, pointing his pistol at Stump's head. "It's not neighborly to run off from your friends like that."

  "You are no friend of ours," Stump said, moving in the seat to position himself protectively in front of Naomi.

  "Yeah, I guess you're sure enough right about that," Ben said. He flipped his pistol in the air, grasping it with his hand around the cylinder and slamming the butt into the side of Stump's head.