Slow John

by Petit, C. J.

  Jim turned to Hank and said, “I figure they’ll take about three minutes or so to…”

  He never finished his sentence. His mouth was still open when the .56 caliber round slammed into his chest, turning his left lung into pulp at the same time the roar of the Spencer exploded around him. He was dead, but remained in the saddle for two more seconds before just slowly rolling to his left and falling to the prairie.

  Hank was stunned for three seconds and whipped his head around toward the gully, pulling his Henry out of its scabbard as he did.

  John’s second shot arrived as Hank was thinking about rushing the gully. The massive bullet caught him just below the right clavicle, and if had been a .44 from the Winchester, he might have survived. But the much larger, more powerful round did extensive damage to his right lung and then smashed into his right shoulder blade, shattering it into pieces as it left his body. He fell to the ground, still clutching his rifle, and still alive, but not for long as blood rushed from the wound flooding the prairie.

  John kept his hand on the Spencer and slid down the gully. He set the Spencer aside and grabbed his Winchester. The hammer was still cocked after his demonstration to Kate, so it was ready to fire.

  He looked over at her and was impressed that she hadn’t turned to see what had just happened, but still concentrated on the eastern edge of the gully. Good girl.

  Kate had heard John’s Spencer fire twice with no return fire, so she was confident that John had eliminated those two on top. Now, she needed to protect John from the one coming her way.

  Down in the gully. Paul Carlisle and Moose Pleasant both had similar reactions to John’s shots. With the sound so far away and outside of the gully, neither was sure if either Jim or Hank hadn’t shot early, before they shouted that they were in position. Maybe one of the two targets had presented himself, or those two victims had gotten antsy and fired at Jim and Hank. It didn’t matter, because it was a good plan.

  So, each man independently decided to stick to the plan and keep heading down the gully, Paul from the east and Moose from the west. They were moving at a fast walk, their Henry rifles at the ready, cocked and pointed down the gully, unsure of what awaited them around the curve ahead.

  John had moved further west a few yards until he could watch the gully’s western edge just like Kate was watching the eastern. It was still cool with a gentle breeze, but John felt sweat rolling down his back.

  It was Moose who came into view first. John saw the rifle’s muzzle slowly grow from the gully’s curve.

  Moose knew that the two men were just around the turn, but thought that either Jim or Hank had taken one of them out, or at least wounded one, but wasn’t sure if either of the targets had seen him and Paul enter the gully. Going around that curve might result in his being the recipient of a rifle shot, so he withdrew his Henry, pulled off his hat and rammed it on top. Then he walked slowly forward again, the hat-wearing muzzle out front.

  John saw the rifle stop, disappear and then return a few seconds later wearing a poor excuse for a hat, giving him a case of the snickers, which he quickly suppressed and just kept his aim right below the level of that hat.

  Moose figured that if Jim or Hank had gotten one, then either his side or Paul’s side would be open, and the lack of fire at his hat made him believe he was safe, so he pulled the rifle back, put the hat on his head and took two quick steps forward and whipped his Henry down the gully.

  As Moose was making his decision, Paul was close to the same situation on the other side, but he was not only more cautious than Moose, he was more afraid.

  As soon as John saw Moose’s rifle barrel make the sudden move, his finger was on his trigger and he never saw Moose’s face before he pulled it either. He was concentrating on a spot, and just saw a mass of a man step around the edge as he fired.

  Moose Pleasant was a very large man, even bigger than John. He was four inches taller and forty pounds heavier than John, who was a large man by anyone’s measure.

  But having a .44 caliber round smash into your chest from just eighty-five feet made size irrelevant. The only difference his outlandish size made was that the bullet didn’t exit his back, as it would in most men, instead the bullet spun into his giant chest, and entered his heart’s right ventricle, exploding the muscle and immediately stopping the flow of blood.

  He fell forward to the bottom of the ravine with a large whump followed by a large cloud of dust, and when he did, his finger tightened on his Henry’s trigger, firing a round into the opposing ravine wall.

  John quickly trotted over to the body to make sure he was dead. He got there, kicked the Henry away a few feet and then kicked Moose in the head, confirming his demise.

  Paul Carlisle was supposed to appear simultaneously with Moose, but he wasn’t quite as close, and was about ten seconds behind Moose as he rounded the corner. As soon as he appeared, Kate fired, sending her round into the gully’s far wall.

  Paul saw the smoke, fired once and then knowing he was in a bad position, turned and started running.

  Kate saw him start to run and then blundered, as she left her position and ran down the gully after him. She had forgotten John’s admonition about never letting emotion rule your head in a fight. She was angry at those men for trying to kill her and John for their supplies, but even more, she was tired of being the victim. This would never happen again! She was in control now as she raced after the fleeing outlaw.

  After kicking Moose, John had turned to take out the last one, but when he looked, he realized with horror that Kate had left her position and begun to run down the gully. He levered in a new round and took off, running as hard as he could, his long strides making up ground. He just hoped he got there in time, or the last man discovered she was a woman and maybe wouldn’t shoot her, which was unlikely when the woman in question had already taken one shot at him and was chasing him with a Winchester.

  Paul heard someone coming behind him, and he was panicked as he started to scramble up the side of the gully where his horse awaited, and he could make his escape from this suddenly backwards situation.

  Kate saw him as he was climbing up the side, stopped, and with rapid breathing, levered in a new round, and aimed the Winchester. She squeezed the trigger, exploding a large crater in the side of the ravine eighteen inches to the right of the scrambling outlaw.

  Paul was stunned by the shot and rolled to his side, cycled in a fresh round and brought his Henry to bear. He spotted the shooter and didn’t take time to see if it was a woman or a man, not that it would have mattered. He aimed and was preparing to pull the trigger, when his head suddenly just exploded.

  Kate knew she was in deep trouble when she had missed and was trying to cycle the lever as she watched the man suddenly roll onto his side and point his rifle at her. She knew she was going to die and closed her eyes, rather than to see the bullet that would do the job. Then there was a rifle report, but it was from behind her.

  She opened her eyes and saw the gunman sliding down the side of the gully, the top half of his skull missing.

  She whirled around just in time to see John lower his rifle and look at her.

  “Kate, what were you doing? You scared me to death! Are you alright?”

  Kate replied, “I’m sorry, John. I was so mad, and then, I missed. He was going to kill me, John! I could look right down his rifle barrel. I was going to die”

  John could see that Kate was about to lose control as she realized how close she had come to dying. It wasn’t a time to admonish her for her almost fatal mistake. He lowered his Winchester to the ground then walked to her and put his arms around her.

  Kate dropped her rifle without knowing it and with the vision of that rifle pointed right at her eyes still fixed firmly in her mind, she began to cry. She was shaking violently as John held her close.

  But it wasn’t just the fear of dying that was causing the emotional explosion, it was the terrifying exposure to imminent death combined with the sudden li
berating redemption of being given a new life that caused her to shake.

  John just held onto Kate and let her come to grip with what had just happened. She had no idea just how close it had been, because the shot he had taken was a lightning quick snap shot with almost no aiming at all. He had just cranked the Winchester into position and yanked the trigger, violating every rule of good marksmanship. The fact that it had hit him in his head was even more extraordinary, as he was just pointing the rifle in his general direction to make him change his target away from Kate. He was beginning to seriously doubt his philosophy of no divine intervention. That shot had been a miracle. A bullet in many other places could have caused him to fire the shot in reflex. As it was, the bullet to the top of the head slammed his body backwards, so even if there was a reflex shot, it would have gone over Kate’s head. He would never tell her just how close it really was, and hoped he would never have to take such a desperate shot again.

  Kate continued to shake for another minute, and then just wept for another two minutes before she began to just breathe normally. All the time she had been held by John, she was only marginally aware of his arms around her. As the brush with death began to fade, she grew more conscious of being held against him and was surprised she found it so comforting and didn’t want him to let go. This was just so different.

  But John finally released Kate and looked down at her blue eyes that were now outlined in red.

  “Are you okay now, Kate?”

  She nodded, sniffed, and replied, “I think so. Thank you, John. You’ve saved my life again.”

  He smiled at her and said, “It’s a life worth saving, Kate. I’m going to start cleaning up this mess. I’ll tell you what. Before I do that, why don’t I start a fire and you can make yourself some tea.”

  Kate smiled and said, “Thank you, John. That sounds perfect.”

  John picked up his Winchester as Kate lifted hers from the floor of the ravine, then John surprised her when he took her hand and they began to walk back to the mules, who seemed totally unperturbed by all the nearby gunfire. As they were walking along Kate tried to think about what had happened, but all she could think about was how pleasant it was to be holding John’s hand.

  They reached the animals and John let her hand go and took her Winchester.

  “I’ll clean these in a little while, but first let’s get you that tea.”

  Kate nodded and smiled as she wrapped her arms around herself. John may not have told her, but she was very much aware of the difficulty of his shot that had killed the outlaw. He couldn’t have been there when the outlaw was aiming because John would have been the more dangerous target. But he had still made an incredible, rushed shot while he must have been breathing heavily from chasing after her. Unlike John, though, she didn’t see divine or any other intervention. She just attributed the shot to John’s seemingly inexhaustible list of talents, among them the ability to make her feel better.

  John found a small hole that would serve as a fire pit, then gathered some driftwood, put some kindling into the hole and started the fire. After putting the driftwood into the hole, he put the cooking grate on the fire, took out the teapot and filled it with a canteen, set it on the grate and turned to Kate.

  “The rest is up to you, Kate.”

  Kate nodded and smiled at John, looking at him with new eyes and a much better appreciation for all he’d done for her. She promised herself that she wouldn’t be such an ingrate ever again.

  John walked down to the big man first, realizing just how big he was. He went through his back pockets, didn’t find anything and then grunted as he rolled the man over. He found $33.45 in his pocket, which was a lot of money for one who did what he did for a living. He stuffed the money into his pocket, then unbuckled the big man’s gunbelt and found a Remington model like his, but unmodified. He put it over his shoulder and pulled off his hat, looked for any kind of identification, but didn’t find any so he tossed the ugly hat onto his body. He picked up his Henry rifle and returned over to the mules. None of the Murphy mules had scabbards, but he was sure the outlaws’ horses did, so he just set it aside with the other guns for now.

  Kate had been watching John as he had searched the man and wondered why he had done it.

  Almost as if he read her mind, which was close to the truth, as John had seen the curious look in her eyes and guessed easily what was on her mind.

  “Out here, we don’t let anything go to waste, especially animals, guns, ammunition, money and food. I was checking his hat for anything that would tell me his name, so I could report it to the sheriff in Cayote, if they have one. This one had nothing, but I’m pretty sure he was ex-army. He had some clothes that were army issue, and he was probably one of those angry ex-railroad workers, too.”

  “I was going to ask that. I wasn’t angry or anything, just curious.”

  “Some of those horses they rode in on looked pretty good, Kate. If you want to switch, let me know when you see them. Now, that big boy down to the west was riding a black horse, but until I saw the size of the man, I didn’t realize how big the horse must be. I’ll find out when I get up top.”

  “Okay. Did you need me to do anything for you, John?” she asked.

  John smiled and replied, “No, Kate. You just have your tea and relax. I would have bought a tin of cookies if they had any. I’m partial to molasses cookies myself.”

  Kate grinned and said, “I’m quite a good cook, you know. I could whip up some of those for you if I had the ingredients.”

  “I’ll hold you to that offer, Ma’am, when we get to someplace that has a cook stove.” he said with a smile as he turned to go east and continue the grizzly business of examining the corpses.

  Kate watched him leave as she sat back and sipped her tea. Her attempted shooting of the outlaw had given her a new appreciation for what John had done outside of Plum Creek. These four men were nothing compared to the Murphys, yet they were going to kill them both for supplies and horses. These kinds of men shouldn’t be allowed to do whatever they wanted to do without consequences. Men like John would do what they could to protect others from men like that.

  She smiled when she rethought the phrase ‘men like John’. She didn’t recall ever meeting another man close to John Flynn. Slow John, indeed, not after that shot.

  John reached the second man’s body, found no identification, $38.55, a Colt New Army and his excellent Henry. He released the Henry’s hammer and slipped the gunbelt over his shoulder before heading back to the emergency camp. He was mulling over why two of them had that much money. They must be pretty good at outlawing, but he still had no idea who they were.

  He found Kate still savoring her tea as he returned and put the gunbelt and Henry rifle onto the growing armory pile.

  “Kate, I’m going to leave the gully and check on the last two and round up their horses. I still have no idea who they are. Did you want to stay here for a few more minutes?”

  “I’ll just stay here and have my tea, lazy woman that I am.”

  John grinned at Kate, “I’ll make you cook supper, so you don’t feel so bad. Besides, you said you were a good cook.”

  “I don’t know, John. That chicken stew you made was pretty good.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do better tonight, Kate.”

  He waved as he climbed back out of the gully, leaving Kate to her tea and a new sense of belonging. Ever since she had left home to marry Phil, she hadn’t felt like she belonged. Phil was just there, and soon after she had married him, she wished he wasn’t.

  When he had died, and she could go back home, she thought she’d fit back in and belong again, but she hadn’t. Even foregoing her married name didn’t matter. Kate just felt like an outsider, maybe because her sisters and parents viewed her as an adult and somehow separate.

  Now, with John, she felt like she belonged. She belonged with John, and after just a couple of days, began to think of John as much more than just a traveling companion. But there was tha
t other problem that was looming over her head that made her queasy just to imagine it. Her monthly was due soon, and if she missed it, it would change everything. She shook her head to push the thought away. She had never gotten pregnant with Phil, and not with the assault by Jack Flynn or the repeated rapes by the four Murphys for the first three weeks. She remembered how Phil would point at her after two years and start yelling that she was barren and no longer suitable for being a wife. Now, she hoped that he was right. But as many times as the Murphys had raped her the past three weeks, all she could do was that – hope.

  John, once back on flat ground on the plains above the gully, began collecting horses first. He found the first one, the big black gelding belonging to the big man and fell in love. It was an amazing animal, as it had to be to support the mass of a man who rode it. John walked around the outside of the horse, patting it as he did. The horse was completely black without a single marker, and when he returned to the front, he rubbed the horse’s neck and looked into those giant brown eyes.

  “Looks like you and I are going to be friends for a few years, big boy.”

  He climbed up onto the horse and for the first time in years, found he would have to adjust the stirrups upward. He also appreciated the extra few inches of height that the horse gave him.

  He rode over to the furthest horse on the eastern side of the gully, took its reins and led him to the two that belonged to the front shooters, which were still within a hundred feet of the two bodies. Each of those two had trail horses, with pack saddles and still a decent amount of supplies, meaning he’d have to do some serious saddle reassignments tomorrow morning. Two of the mules would be relieved of their saddles and be awarded pack saddles instead.