by Duane Boehm
Zack rode on silently, sulky for a bit before saying, “I guess we better be watching for outlaws.”
For the next hour, the two men said nothing as they rode along, still annoyed at each other. The road ran straight and mainly level with an occasional hill, making for easy travel. To the south, the land lay flat with good grass and an occasional Gambel oak grove and to the north began the gradual rise to the foothills, timbered in a mix of pine and aspen. As they topped a big hill, they caught sight of four riders coming in a hard lope their way. Behind the riders, another quarter of a mile farther, were three more men in pursuit. The four men also saw Gideon and Zack and with an arm wave from the front rider, the men turned and rode into the timber towards the foothills.
“I’d say that we just found our robbers and I wish it was in a better spot to capture them,” Gideon said.
“What do you think we should do?” Zack asked.
“Let’s make a circle to the south and come in behind that stand of trees. I expect the posse will do the same from the other direction and we can meet them and come up with a plan,” Gideon said.
“Sounds good to me,” Zack replied.
“And just in case something happens, I want you to know that if I had anything to do with choosing a son–in–law, I’d pick you,” Gideon said.
“I hope you get your wish. I’d hate to have to break in another old codger for a future father–in–law,” Zack said as they both put their horses into a gallop.
The posse beat Gideon and Zack to the stand of trees and busied themselves scanning the woods across the road for signs of the outlaws. The sheriff of Silverton walked over to greet them. “I’m Sheriff Mitch Clemons and you must be Sheriff Gideon Johann. Thanks for coming,” he said.
Gideon climbed off his horse and shook the sheriff’s hand. “Yes I am and this here is my deputy, Zack Barlow. I hope we can be of some help. Did they stop in the trees or keep on going?”
“We saw them scurrying about. I think they plan to hold us off until nightfall and then sneak off into the hills. Do you have any suggestions?” Sheriff Clemons said.
“I’d say that me and you flank them on each side and our men start shooting from here to keep their attention. It’s about the only thing that I can see to do,” Gideon said.
“I thought the same thing. It worked in the war and let’s hope that it works here. Don’t forget that these men are cold–blooded killers,” the sheriff said.
Sheriff Clements gave the instructions to the men and they began firing into the woods while the two sheriffs maneuvered around to each side. As he moved, Gideon had to stay crouched in the grass and scrub brush and it brought back memories of his days of fighting on foot in the war before he became part of the cavalry. The outlaws were now returning fire with the deputies and as Gideon crept around to the side, he spotted the general location of three of the outlaws from the smoke of their guns. He darted from tree to tree until he could see one of the outlaws thirty yards away taking aim towards the road.
Gideon contemplated calling out for the man to surrender, but realized that there was no chance for that to happen. If he did, the outlaw would undoubtedly dive behind a tree and negate their flanking tactic. He took aim at the man’s left side below the arm and fired. The outlaw jumped straight up in the air and turned towards Gideon with a look of shear panic before falling on his face. Gideon stood frozen as a wave of emptiness washed over him. In his old life, he wouldn’t have given a second thought to shooting an outlaw, but not anymore. Life was too precious to him these days and he took no pleasure in extinguishing another man’s existence.
Looking away from the prone body, Gideon saw another outlaw taking aim on him. He spun back behind the tree as a bullet whistled by him. Cursing himself for his carelessness, the instinct of self–preservation flashed through him, followed by the fury that had made him such a relentless soldier. Crouching down, he peeked around the tree, but the shooter was no longer to be found.
He didn’t like the idea of the outlaw knowing his location and he not the outlaw’s, so he began working his way around to the rear of the woods. Every few steps he would stop and listen. The shooting was slowing down and he didn’t hear anybody moving through the trees. He came upon the robbers’ tied up horses. Deciding to move them, he set his rifle down to untie the reins just as one of the men came sprinting his way. Gideon was as surprised as the other man appeared to be. The outlaw raised his rifle as Gideon drew his pistol and fired three shots in rapid succession. Each shot drove the outlaw farther back until he fell, shooting his gun straight up into the air as he hit the ground. Gideon walked over to the man and gave him a good kick to make sure that he was dead before taking the horses around towards Sheriff Clemons’ flank.
“Sheriff Clemons, I killed two of the outlaws and I have their horses. What about you?” Gideon yelled out after taking cover in a swale.
“I killed one of them. I guess we still have one to go,” Sheriff Clemons responded.
From the middle of the trees, a voice called out, “I’ll surrender. Just tell me what you want me to do.”
Sheriff Clemons yelled, “Leave your guns behind and walk towards my voice with your hands on top of your head and sing nice and loud all the way. I’ll have a bead on you.”
The outlaw followed the orders, singing “Shall We Gather at the River” in a voice so pitchy that Gideon wondered if Sheriff Clemons might shoot the singer just to end the song.
Gideon headed towards the sheriff after the lawman had called out for him. He found the sheriff waiting patiently with his rifle still aimed at the outlaw.
The outlaw said, “Well if it isn’t Gideon Johann. I never thought I’d see you wearing a badge. In fact, I figured you’d be more likely to be in my line of work.”
Gideon looked towards the man, surprised at hearing him say his name. He studied him for a moment before saying, “Fred Parsons, when in the hell did you become an outlaw?”
“You know this man?” Sheriff Clemons asked.
“He was one of the best soldiers I ever rode with,” Gideon replied.
“He seems to have a different calling these days,” the sheriff remarked.
“I decided there had to be an easier way to make a living than staring at the ass of a cow,” Fred said.
“I’m afraid your easy days are over for good. You’ll likely hang for this,” Sheriff Clemons said.
“You know, Gideon, I once saved your life and if you hadn’t ducked around that tree at the last second, I would have killed you a few minutes ago. Funny how life works,” Fred said.
Gideon felt the emptiness in the pit of his stomach again and fought off nausea. The bond built between men that fought together in war was almost indescribable. There was no solace in bringing Fred to justice. He wanted to get away as quickly as possible and put today out of his mind. “There’s not much funny about today,” Gideon said.
“Did you know that Finnie is in Animas City? He’s the town drunk. I tried to get him to straighten up and join us, but he is content scooping horseshit and drinking himself to death,” Fred said.
Gideon turned to the sheriff. “You don’t need me anymore and I want to get out of here. Good to have met you. I’ll send your deputies up here.”
Sheriff Clemons shook Gideon’s hand. “Thank you for your help. Maybe I can return the favor someday. I’ll make sure that he is cared for properly.”
“I hope they spare your life and that someday you’re free again. God have mercy on you,” Gideon said and walked away.
Zack and the other deputies were waiting in the road with the horses as Gideon walked up to them. He pointed the deputies towards the sheriff.
Gideon turned to Zack. “I have to go to Animas City. I need to check on an old war buddy. You can either head back or ride with me – your choice.”
“Will I still get paid?” Zack asked with a grin.
“Sure, it’s not my money. I could use the company anyway,” Gideon said as he mounted B
uck.
After riding for about twenty minutes, Zack said, “You’re awfully quiet for wanting company. Are you still sore at me?”
“No. The man we arrested was also one of my war buddies. He’s the one that told me that Finnie was in Animas City. It makes for a sad day all away around,” Gideon said.
“I’d say so. Tell me about Finnie,” Zack said.
Gideon, despite the circumstance, grinned at thinking about Finnie. “Finnegan Ford came to this country when he was fourteen. He has an Irish accent that is so thick that it takes a while to understand him, but the man is funny. He was the one that kept us smiling through the bad days. And now I guess he is a drunk.”
Chapter 2
Never having been to Animas City, Gideon sized up the place as they arrived. It looked a lot like Last Stand but with more hustle and bustle as miners scurried about in an apparent hurry to buy supplies. He and Zack rode up to the first saloon and tied their horses to the hitching rail.
“I don’t know what to expect. Finnie could get pretty cantankerous when he got drunk back in the day. We will see,” Gideon said.
The Last Stand Last Chance Saloon was the only saloon that Zack had ever been in and when they walked into this place, he had to force himself to keep from gagging. The place reeked of stale beer and body odor. A cloud of smoke hung so heavily in the air that it looked as if there was a morning fog. Most of the men appeared to be miners with the brawn to match their work. The saloon girls were uglier than Zack ever imagined women could be and still get hired for such a job.
At the end of the bar, a man loudly sang “Whiskey in the Jar”. His heavy Irish accent and drunken slur made the words indecipherable and only his excellent singing voice made the song recognizable. It occurred to Zack that the man was likely Finnie. The singer did look the way he had imagined Gideon’s friend to appear. The man was short and squat with shoulders like an ox. His hair was strawberry blond and he wore bushy sideburns that accented his long pointed nose and cleft chin. A layer of dirt coated him and his clothes were mostly worn out.
Gideon tapped Zack on the shoulder and pointed at the singer. They walked up to the bar with Gideon standing next to the man. The Irishman stopped singing and looked at the two men.
“What’s the best drink in here?” Gideon asked.
“If you came in here for the taste, you’ve sadly made a serious mistake. All the drinks in this sorry establishment taste as if they’ve already passed through the body once and are only fit for getting drunk,” Finnie said and took a sip of his whiskey.
“You remind me of this little sawed off Irishman that I served with in the Second Colorado Cavalry. He was an irritating little shit,” Gideon said.
Finnie sat his glass down and turned to study Gideon. He tilted his head and rubbed his chin before breaking into a grin at the recognition of his friend. “Gideon Johann, you old dog. You’re still as pretty as a baby suckling a teat. How many years has it been? You’re sure one I never thought I’d see again,” he said as he held out his hand and shook Gideon’s vigorously.
“It’s been too long, Finnie, too long. How did you end up here?” Gideon asked.
“I came here to make my fortune, but things did not go as I had planned and I lost my desire for it after that,” Finnie said as if the memory still pained him.
Changing the subject, Gideon said, “Finnegan Ford, this here is my deputy, Zack Barlow.”
The two men shook hands as Finnie looked at Gideon and asked, “And where might you be the sheriff and what brings you out this way?”
“In Last Stand. Unfortunately, I helped capture Fred Parsons. He’s liable to hang for his part in a murder and robbery. He’s the one that told me that I’d find you here,” Gideon said.
“I remember you talking about your hometown. Always sounded like a nice place. Old Fred, he tried to get me in on that nonsense. Not for me. I’ve sunk considerably lower than my prime, but I still know right from wrong. It must have pained you to go after our old war buddy,” Finnie said and took another sip.
“I didn’t know that it was him until we caught him. It certainly was a surprise and not something that I would have ever expected. It was a sad day for sure. I guess people change,” Gideon said.
“Yes, we do, Gideon. Yes, we do,” Finnie said.
“Finnie, I want you to come back to Last Stand with me. I can get you a job and you can make a new start for yourself,” Gideon said.
Turning surly, Finnie said, “What’s the matter, doesn’t Last Stand have its own town drunk?”
“Don’t be that way. We always had each other’s back and I just want to help you get a fresh start. You’d do the same for me.,” Gideon said.
“You mean like keeping your secret all these years?” Finnie asked.
“It’s no secret anymore. Most of the town knows about me killing the boy in the war. It was only in the last year that I finally put it behind me. People helped me start over and I want to do the same for you,” Gideon pleaded.
“Gideon, I’m glad you’re doing well now. I remember what a burden it was for you and I appreciate your kindness, but it’s too late for me. The bottle is my best friend now. I’m content and there’s no need for you to trouble yourself over me. It’s been good to see you again,” Finnie said and turned back towards the bar to end the conversation.
Gideon stood stunned, still looking at Finnie. He had expected difficulty in convincing him to leave, but he hadn’t figured to be dismissed so easily. Gently taking Finnie’s arm, he said, “Please come with me. You are better than this.”
Finnie jerked his arm away. “Be off with you. I don’t need your damn pity,” he yelled at Gideon.
A man standing on the other side of Finnie moved around him to face Gideon. He began poking Gideon in the chest and said, “Your badge don’t carry any weight around here and Finnie don’t want to see you. So leave him alone.”
Gideon was about to try to calm the situation when Finnie spun the man around and caught him on the jaw with a vicious right–hook that knocked the troublemaker unconscious before he hit the floor. “Don’t touch my friend,” Finnie screamed.
Chaos ensued as three of the fallen man’s friends jumped into the fray. Gideon, Zack, and Finnie were exchanging blows with the men in an all–out brawl. Finnie had been trained as a boxer in his youth and used his skills to thrash his opponent. Gideon held his own against a much larger man, but Zack, whose fighting experience was limited to schoolyard tussles, was being pummeled. In a rush to come to Zack’s aid, Finnie aimed a punch to his man’s stomach and as the man doubled over, delivered a haymaker to the face that put the man down. Finnie yanked Zack’s assailant around and walked the man back with a flurry of jabs that forced the troublemaker to turn tail and run out the door.
“Someone needs to teach you the art of boxing,” Finnie said to Zack.
The constable arrived, drew his gun, and yelled, “That will be enough fighting. Stop at once.”
Seeing the badge on Gideon, the constable said, “I’m Constable Ryan. Who are you and what happened here?”
“I’m Sheriff Johann of Last Stand and I was having a spirited conversation with my friend Finnie here when these men decided to stick their noses where they didn’t belong. We were just defending ourselves,” Gideon said as he wiped blood from his lip.
Constable Ryan holstered his gun and looked at the bartender. “Is that about the size of it?” he asked.
The bartender, drying a glass and looking around warily at the combatants, said, “More or less.”
“And what was your spirited conversation concerning that it attracted so much attention?” Constable Ryan asked Gideon.
“I was trying to get him to come back to Last Stand with me. He seems to think that Animas City is more to his liking,” Gideon said.
“Finnie, you’re a good fellow and all, but trouble follows you like stink follows shit. You need to go with your friend or I’m going to arrest you for being a public nuisance,”
the constable said.
“You can’t arrest me and nobody else. I have my rights,” Finnie protested.
“Yes, you do and the judge may agree, but he just left the day before yesterday and won’t be back till who knows when, so you will have to sit in jail until you get your day in court,” Constable Ryan said while failing to conceal his grin.
“I’m being railroaded out of town. I fought for the Union and this is how I’m treated. It’s a fine day for democracy,” Finnie said.
Gideon grinned at the constable as if they had pulled off a great feat. He put his arm around Finnie, saying, “You’ll love Last Stand. It’s a fine town and the sheriff there won’t run you off.”
“You think it’s funny now, but you might not later. I might tear your whole town down and I know you won’t shoot me and you sure can’t lick me,” Finnie said.
“Do you have a horse?” Gideon asked.
“Yes, yes, I’ve a horse. No saddle, but I reckon I can still ride bareback. You best buy me a bottle ‘cause there’s no way I can travel that far without some liquid encouragement,” Finnie said.
“I always carry a bottle. Let’s get out of here,” Gideon said.
“Zack don’t look so good,” Finnie announced.
Zack sat at a table with one hand covering an eye and the other rubbed his mouth. Color was gone from his face. “I’m alright,” he mumbled.
“Let’s get him outside,” Gideon said as he and Finnie each took an arm and walked the wobbly young man out the door.
In the sunlight, Zack’s beating became apparent. Both lips were badly busted and swelling, and his left eye would soon be black to go with the scrape on his right cheek. He bent over, bracing his hands on his knees and sucked in deep breaths.