by Joe Corso
CHAPTER 3
Charlie checked every store as he rode slowly into town, looking for one that sold men’s clothing. He spotted one and tied his horse to the hitching post in front of a store that specialized in clothing for travelers heading west. Charlie entered the store and the first thing he noticed was a rack of men’s shirts to his right against the wall. He began to look though them when a young lady approached him. “Can I help you, sir?” Charlie turned to see who it was that said that and he was pleased to see a pretty young lady smiling at him. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Cynthia and I work here. Can I help you with anything?”
Charlie turned red with embarrassment. He was filthy from the trail and he smelled like cow dung, not having bathed in months. “Well, ma’am, I need a bath, a shave, a haircut, and some new clothes. I’d be obliged if you would help me.”
Cynthia liked this young man. He wasn’t crude like most of the other cowboys that walked into her store; he had manners. “We have a bathtub out in the back just for cowpokes like you that need a new set of clothes. And it don’t pay to put on clean clothes before you take a bath now, does it? I’ll heat up some hot water and give you a cake of soap and a brush so you could scrape all of that trail grime off while you take your bath. Why don’t we pick out some clothes for you first, then you can take your bath - and after the bath, you can put your new clothes on, and then get a haircut and a shave in the barber shop next door.” She put out her hand palm up. “But first, give me twenty five cents for the bath and while you’re picking out your clothes, I’ll go and prepare the bath for you.”
“Is there a hotel you can recommend to me?”
“Sure, we have a few hotels in town, but Wrights Hotel is closest and the nicest. It’s just a few doors down from here and their rates are reasonable.”
“Thanks. Here’s the twenty-five cents for the bath. When it’s ready. let me know because I’ll be right here, picking out duds.” Cynthia left to prepare the bath and Charlie began picking out his clothes. He took a pair of Levi pants, two shirts off the rack, one to wear and one to keep as a spare, and he put them aside. He looked at his boots, the ones he took off of the union officer three years ago and he could see they needed heels and soles so he guessed it was time for a new pair. He picked out two red bandannas with the same design, two pairs of socks, and a good belt. Now all he needed was a hat. He tried on a wide-brimmed cowboy hat that resembled a Mexican sombrero, which was fine for protection from rain, but it was impractical to travel with. So he settled for a sporty black Stetson and he went the extra yard and replaced the plain leather band with a new black band with alternating round silver Concho’s spaced evenly around it.
“You can’t take two red bandannas. Put one back and take this yellow one.” He turned to see Cynthia standing there, smiling at him. “Let me see what else you bought that could use a woman’s touch. Hmm, the blue chinos are good, the shirts are okay, but you chose two of the same. Keep the tan shirt and change the other one for this plain blue shirt. You don’t want to look as if you never took your shirt off, do you? Socks are all right and the boots are perfect. What are you going to do with these other boots of yours?”
Charlie shrugged. “Throw them away, I guess, since I won’t be needing them any longer.”
She sighed. “Too bad because these are quality boots. Look, forget about these new boots. Yes, they look good, but before you buy them, have Artie the boot maker put new heels and soles on these boots, because when he’s finished with them they’ll look just like new.”
Charlie thought about it for a moment. He liked the boots he was wearing. They were comfortable and they never hurt his feet. “Tell you what, Cynthia. Do me a favor and bring them to the boot maker while I take my bath. If you’re not back by the time I’m finished, I’ll be next door getting a shave and a haircut, and if you’re still not back, then I’ll wait here in the store for you.”
She smiled sweetly at him. “That will cost you an extra quarter. Go on now, or your bath will get cold. I’ll take your boots to Artie’s store and either wait for them or I’ll tell him to have someone bring them here when he’s finished.”
“That’s great, Cynthia. Thanks a lot.”
“I’m leaving now. What’s your name so I could tell Artie in case someone has to bring them here.”
“Charlie, ma’am.”
“It’s Cynthia, Charlie, not ‘ma’am’ like I’m an old lady.”
Charlie smiled back at her. “Well, one thing is for sure . . . you are not an old lady and you could never be mistaken for one and that’s a fact.”
She smiled and picked up his boots. “Go on now, Charlie, go and take your bath. The water is probably cold by now.” Charlie watched her skip out the door, then he turned and walked out the back door to the bathtub with hot water and soap waiting invitingly for him.
Charlie looked around the store for Cynthia, but she wasn’t back yet so he walked barefooted the short distance to the barbershop.
The barber looked at him and pointed to his feet and joked, “What’s the matter, son, the old man come home and catch you with his woman and you had to skee-daddle out the window?”
Charlie laughed back. “I should be so lucky. I haven’t had the pleasure of a woman for such a long while now, I think I’ve forgotten what to do. Maybe I’ll catch up on the fairer sex a little later after I get a room at the hotel, but right now I need a shave and a haircut.” Charlie’s hair was cut, and his face was lathered and about to be shaved when Cynthia walked in.
“I thought I’d find you here. I have your boots all fixed, shined, and ready for you to put on.”
Adam, the barber, looked at Cynthia and then at Charlie and said, “I see you two have met.”
“Yes, we’ve met. I just did him a favor. I had Artie repair his boots for him. Now I’ll lose a sale because he won’t have to buy boots from me,” she said kiddingly, then she became serious. “These are fine boots, Charlie, where did you buy them?”
Charlie didn’t want to talk about this, especially in Yankee territory. He shrugged his shoulders. “Got them from a dead officer; my boots were pretty far gone at the time.”
She was embarrassed. She brought up a sensitive subject and she guessed what this young man must have gone through. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy; it’s just my way, I guess.”
After the barber brushed Charlie off, he looked like a different man. He was a young, handsome lad and for the first time in years, his face was clean-shaven except for the black mustache he wore since his first shave at the age of fourteen.
Cynthia had no idea that such a good-looking man was hiding beneath all that dirt and grime - and she found she was attracted to him. “Charlie, you better go to the hotel and get a room. There’s a large trail herd coming in today and there might not be any rooms left if the cowboys decide to stay in town. They’ll rent all of the rooms and all the hotels will be full, and when that happens, they’ll be looking for any room - even your room. Come on. I’ll walk over there with you.”
“Wait a minute. Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“My father’s there. He’ll take care of the customers until I get back.”
Charlie paid the barber. When he stepped out the door, he noticed a Yankee soldier examining his horse. “Excuse me. This is my horse. Can I help you with something?”
The Yank was a little into his cups and his bravado was up a notch. “Where did you get this horse?” he asked.
Charlie smiled. “Now I don’t see where that’s any of your business.”
The Yank brushed his gloved hand over the US branded on the rump of the horse. “Like I said, where did you get this horse?”
Charlie looked at the man and he knew this wasn’t going away. The Yank was looking for a fight and Charlie never ran away from a fight in his life, and he wasn’t going to start now. He smiled at the Yank innocently and said, “I took this horse from a dead Yank, that’s where I got it. Now what do you have to say about th
at, partner?”
Cynthia looked at the Yank, and then at Charlie, and then at his eyes, and she didn’t see fear anywhere on his face, especially in his eyes. The Yank looked over Charlie’s shoulder and gave a slight nod, and Charlie knew there were at least two, maybe three men he’d have to fight … so he slowly walked to his right, putting the Yank between him and his horse. He kept walking until he saw the second man step off the wooden platform and onto the street.
Charlie put up his hands. “You fellas don’t have to do this. No one has to die today.” The Yank, apparently sober now, said, “What’s the matter, Reb, you scared? Tell you what. You give us this fine horse, which is rightly ours anyway, since he’s a Yankee horse, and we’ll let you live. What do you say? Is the horse ours? Or do we kill you to get it?”
Word spread quickly through the town that there was going to be a gunfight. People got off the street and the sidewalks became crowded. Some people peeked through store windows pointing and nudging one another, trying to get a look at the man who was about to be killed by two ruffians. The Yank gave an almost imperceptible tilt of his head toward his friend and the both men jerked their guns at the same time. The crowd gasped, knowing what would happen in another split second. Cynthia raised the back of her hand to her lips, fearing for Charlie’s life. She only met him a little while ago, but she liked him. She liked him an awful lot. The Yanks were ex-soldiers, but they weren’t gunfighters. Charlie was a gunfighter although he never thought of himself as one. But having pals the likes of Cole Younger and the James brothers, you had to know how to handle a gun, especially in a gunfight. The crowd saw the Yanks reach for their guns, but they never saw the Kid’s lightning fast draw and neither did the Yanks. He killed them both, then he turned to the crowd. “You all saw that. I tried to talk them out of it, but they wouldn’t listen.”
One of the men who witnessed the gunfight was the town marshal. “How did it start?” he asked Longstreet. After hearing Longstreet’s story, he turned to Cynthia. “Did you witness the fight?”
“Yes, marshal. It happened exactly the way he said it did.”
“I seen it too,” the marshal said, “I just wanted a second witness for the record.” He turned to Charlie. “Look, son, you better leave town right away. Those men you killed had some bad friends and when they hear about this, they’ll come gunning for you. What’s your name, son?”
“Charles, marshal, Charles Longstreet.”
The marshal looked at him differently now. “Well, I’ll be damned. Charles Longstreet in my town. Now for sure you better leave town right away.”
Cynthia looked at him differently too. “I didn’t know that you were Charles Longstreet!”
Charlie laughed. “Well, how many Charles Longstreets can there be? I’m going to get a room and I’ll be leaving in the morning. Is that all right with you, marshal?”
The marshal nodded. “Go ahead and get your room, but I’m posting a deputy at the hotel. He’ll be stationed in front of your door until you leave.”
Charles was confused. “Why a deputy, marshal? I just told you I’ll leave in the morning.”
“Cause I don’t want to see Charles Longstreet killed in my town. That’s why the deputy will stay outside your door all the time you’re here.”
Charlie took Cynthia by her hand and said, “Let’s go. I have to get a room and then something to eat. I’m starved. Do they serve good food at this hotel? Or is there a better place to eat?”
“No, the food here is as good as any of the other places. The meat all comes from the same herd.”
“Good then it’s settled. Meet me back here in a half hour and I’ll buy you dinner.”
Cynthia blushed. “I can’t do that. It’s not proper for me to have dinner with you.”
“Sure it is. Besides, you have to be there.”
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
“Because I still haven’t paid you for the clothes I bought. So you see, if you don’t have dinner with me, you won’t get paid because I’m leaving early in the morning.”
She thought about that and smiled. “Sure. I guess I do have to be there, or I won’t get paid because you’ll be leaving at first light. Right?”
“That’s right. I’ll meet you at the hotel in fifteen minutes.”
Charlie signed his name to the register and asked the clerk to have someone take care of his horse for him. Then he went to his room and dropped his gear on the bed. He kept his money belt with the three thousand dollars strapped around his waist. With the money spread out, no one could tell he was wearing a money belt. Out of habit, he checked the hallway before stepping out, then he went down to the bar for a drink while he waited for Cynthia to arrive for dinner. The bartender noticed the way he wore his guns, and he heard about the gunfight from his customers. He was nervous, knowing there could be trouble before the night ended. He didn’t want to have his mirrors broken or his place shot up, or any his customers hurt. But he gave Longstreet his drink and looked nervously around the room to see who might be a problem. Seeing no trouble, he relaxed a little, When he saw the deputy marshal walk in and take a seat at a table by the door, he felt a whole lot better.
Cynthia walked in a few minutes later and stopped near the deputy and scanned the dining room for Charlie, but didn’t see him. Then she spotted him sitting at the bar nursing a drink and she walked over to him. “I think we should sit at a table. I don’t feel comfortable standing here at the bar.”
Charlie knew she was right. “Sorry. I was just killing time. I’d figured I have a drink before dinner while I was waiting for you to arrive.”
After being on the road for so many days and not eating a real good home cooked meal for so many years, it was just the most delicious meal he could remember having. “This steak was delicious. I can’t ever remember having a steak this good.”
Cynthia nodded in agreement. “Well, it should be good. This is all prime beef - and the rest of the food is right off of the farm.”
Just then, the waitress appeared, holding a dish of fresh apple pie. “Ma just made this. Came fresh from the oven just for you, Mr. Longstreet.”
He thanked her and shook his head. “How the hell does everyone know my name? I can’t figure out what’s going on around here.”
Cynthia tilted her head and looked at him. “You’re famous, Charlie. Don’t you know that?”
He laughed. “Go on. Me, famous? For what? I’m a soldier who was just discharged. I’m not famous.”
“Yes you are. I read all about you.”
“What are you talking about? What did you read about me?”
“Everybody knows about you - and what you did. I told you, you’re famous.”
Charlie was getting annoyed now. “Cynthia, I don’t know what in hell you’re talking about. Please tell me what it was that you read.”
“I read about the shootout with those three deserters. You were with Cole Younger and Ned Buntline. He wrote all about that gunfight. He said you were the fastest man with a gun he ever saw. Said you killed two men before he could pull his gun from his holster. There’s a whole book been written about your exploits, Charlie. They call you The Lone Jack Kid.”
Charlie was beginning to get anxious now. He had no idea what she was talking about - except that what she just told him had actually happened. Could it be possible that that Buntline fella actually wrote about what happened in Lone Jack that night? Suddenly the room quieted down. It was kind of eerie. Charlie looked around to see what caused the busy room to become so quiet. Then he heard a Tap-Tap-Tap. Then another Tap-Tap-Tap. Then another, and another. What the hell is going on? he thought.
Cynthia looked at him and said, “He’s calling you out, Charlie.”
Charlie looked around and spotted a man by the bar, tapping his spurs against a spittoon. “How do you know he’s calling me out?”
She looked at Charlie as if he were retarded. “It’s in the book.”
Frustrated, he said, “What book!!
”
“Everyone has read the book. It’s the best selling book in America. Buntline explained all about the three taps in his book. You’re just making believe you don’t know about it, but you do, don’t you? Buntline said in the book that whenever someone wanted to challenge you, they’d tap three times and you’d know they wanted to test you.”
Longstreet couldn’t believe this was happening to him. He had no idea that fellow Buntline was a writer. Cynthia was speaking to him, but Charlie was lost in thought and hadn’t been paying attention to her. “He explained exactly how you wore your guns.” She went on. “It’s your trademark so everyone would know who you were. It’s all in the book. I’m surprised you didn’t know about it.”
Tap-Tap-Tap. Longstreet got up and everyone held their breath. The deputy stood and walked toward the man at the bar. “If you want the ball to start, then take it outside .”
Relieved, the bartender added, “Yes! Take your fight outside. Don’t fight in here.”
Charlie walked up to the man and said, “What are you trying to prove by fighting me?”
The man smirked. “That I’m the fastest, that I killed the best. That’s what I’d be proving. Now do you want to go outside and finish this or would you rather I killed you here?”
Longstreet got up and walked outside about fifty paces, then he turned to face the threat. The deputy ran to the jail, hoping the marshal hadn’t left for home yet. Charlie learned from the war that you couldn’t let your concentration be distracted, it could be deadly - so he focused on the man who was looking to kill him, not at the crowd milling around to see history being made. The gunfighter started circling Longstreet, who stood stock still, but turned his body enough to keep his opponent at the proper killing angle. Longstreet had practiced hours each day - first to shoot what he aimed at - then to improve the time it took for him to accomplish that. Every day, he practiced for at least two hours, and many times for much longer. He practiced shooting hundreds and sometimes thousands of rounds. He always knew he was fast with a gun - very fast. But he never considered himself a gunslinger. He was a man who practiced shooting to stay alive, but he never thought he would have to prove himself like he was doing now.