The Fast Gun...Chapter Two

As the footsteps faded I put them in the back of my mind for the time being. My mind sorted out the normal sounds of the day and picked up those that triggered a warning to someone in my line of work. Nearby the sound of a shell being jacked into a gun chamber got my attention. From which direction it had come I did not know right then, but soon enough I knew I would.

I heard a lady gasp out loud and her sharp intake of breath. Slowly, I opened my eyes to where I could look around, but not let on to anyone I was awake. My breathing stayed the same steady rhythm, though I could feel my muscles tensing up getting ready for action. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the vague outline of someone on my right standing about twenty-five feet away. Whoever they were stood there not moving, his hand handing down his left side above his holster.

My mind begin to think about what gunfighters I knew of that were left-handed and very few came to mind. Of those who would give me any trouble, only two were in my league as far as being fast with a gun. Tobias was still in Yuma serving time for holding up a stagecoach as far as I knew and that left Cobb, Royal Cobb. The last time I had heard his name mentioned he was down New Mexico way. But, I could be wrong on both counts.

Across the street a horse stomped its feet, raising small dust clouds to be blown away from the slight breeze. The footsteps came closer and I moved my right hand an inch towards my six-shooter. Then the voice spoke, one I remembered from my past. COBB.

"You going to sit there all day long?"

"What's it to you, Cobb? "

"Your kind is not wanted or needed in these parts and you need to move on."

"And who are you to tell me to move on? Who hired you?" I lifted my head and saw he had aged since the last time we had met. He put on a few pounds as one tends to do when you age and grown a mustache. It sooted him I admit. I stood up and stepped away from the chair. This must have started him as he took two steps backward. "You nervous about something, Cobb?" It was then I noticed the glint of metal on his chest. Cobb is wearing a badge. What the Hell?

"I don't want any trouble from you, Keegan."

"Since when have you ever known me to start trouble? How long have you been on the side of the law? What idiot would hire a known gunman as a Deputy?"

"My brother, David Cobb, who is standing behind you with a shotgun pointed in your direction. Been here around six months now."

I heard a boot shift behind me. Now I knew why that smirk was plastered all over Cobb's face. Without turning around I said, "Hello David." I did not fear him and the shotgun pointed at my back. I was more interested in Roy facing me, as I knew from the past he is a stone-cold killer and had a hair trigger that could fly off the handle at any second.

"Hello, Keegan. Been a while since I heard you were in these parts. Believe my Deputy asked you to move on. Better do what he says before I set him loose on you."

"Just passing through David. If you set your brother on me, tell him goodbye now, for I will kill him and he knows it. I don't mind taking lead in the process, but he will be dead for sure."

"When are you moving on?"

"Had planned on tomorrow morning, but if pushed, then I will stick around for a while. If I kill your brother-you're next."

"Make sure you move on in the morning." He walked away dragging one of his feet from the sound.

I still faced Roy, who had not moved. Finally, he turned slowly walking down the street after his brother. His shoulders were hunched as if expecting a bullet in the back from me. That was his way, not mine.

I forgot about them both for the most part as I headed into the Saloon. I bought myself a bottle and took a seat at a far table from everyone. I downed the first drink without much trouble. Then two more went down just as easily, then the trouble started. The trouble is I am not much of a drinker, never have been, though I do have my moments. This was one of them. The more I drank the more I wanted to fight someone to relieve my frustrations at the Sheriff and his Deputy, who I knew one day I was going to have to kill.

About the time I had finished half the bottle, I can honestly say I was not feeling too much pain. A couple of local cowhands came into the Saloon loud as hell and annoying me to no end. One of them noticed me and must have thought they were going to have some fun at my expense. Soon enough they would learn the error of their ways. I pushed aside the bottle and glass waiting for them to make their move. They finished their Beers, then turned toward me. The Bartender warned them to leave me alone, but they would not listen.

Standing up and weaving, they made their way over to my table. Neither one noticed I had slid back the chair for easy access to my feet. Honestly, I do not believe either one could see ten feet in front of them. They must have had more to drink than just the one Beer they had in here They stopped just on the other side of the table as straight as a rooked tree could stand, both leaned on each other for support.

"Hey ! OLD man. That is our table you are sitting at. We want it back. Me and my partner here are big men hereabouts. Maybe you have heard of us, Jackson and Tate."

"Can't say that I have, Boys. Do your Mommies know you are out so late in the day? Go home before you get spanked." I then looked back at the Bartender who shrugged his shoulders.

Then they made their final mistake. They stepped forward, leaning across, and tried to put their hands on me. I stood up fast knocking the table into their smug little faces. Whiskey, glass, and Blood went flying. Pig eyes got a left hook in the nose. Bloody snot dripped from the broken appendage. Falling on his ass on the floor he sat holding it crying. Loud mouth I had fun with. He got the brunt of my anger. Fast as I could, and I hit him three times in the guts. As he gasped for breath with an open mouth I broke his jaw with a right cross that caused his eyes to roll up in his head as he went to the floor out for the count.

I passed by the two boys on the floor as I headed for the Bar. As I reached for a shot of Whiskey the Bartender placed there for me, Sheriff Cobb came through the Bat Wings, a look of concern across his face. "What the Hell's going on here?" He asked loudly. He then noticed me and anger flooded his face. "Had to be you!" He shouted pointing a finger at me.

The Bartender spoke up behind me, "He didn't start the trouble, Sheriff. Those two punks did.:"

"He just finished it, huh?" The Sheriff remarked in a snotty tone. He barely looked in my direction when he asked, "You pressing charges for assault?"

"Hell No! They got what they deserved, a lesson in Manners. I'm going to bed unless you object and try to put me in jail."

"No, You are free to go. Remember to be out of town by mid-morning. Someone help me haul these two to sleep it off in a cell for the night." He turned toward Jackson and Tate. Three fellas helped haul them out. Neither woke up as the cell doors clanged shut behind them.

At the Hotel, I locked the door behind me and even put the chair underneath the doorknob in case someone wanted to come visit during the night. The only other way into the room was from the window, two floors above the street.

Thankfully no one bothered me during the night and I was able to sleep off the effects of the Whiskey, my one true Demon. As I went past the front desk on my way for Coffee the clerk asked if I was checking out. I paused for a moment and told him I will let you know. He looked like a scowled schoolboy. I smiled and left. The Restaurant was half full when I went inside and found myself a table in the back of the room. I drank down a cup of coffee before ordering something to eat. Pancakes, Bacon, Biscuits, and gravy. When the waitress brought my order over she also placed a full pot of coffee on the table and another empty cup. I looked at her in wonder. She pointed at the doorway. There stood Mr. Deeds with his hat in his hand smiling that creepy smile at me again.

He sat down without asking and poured himself a cup. "Please help yourself," I commented around a mouthful of pancakes.

"Have you given any more thought to what we discussed yesterday, Mr. Keegan?"

"No, Sir. Can't say that I have. Have you to my counter-proposal?"

"I received an answer to my telegram and IF you take the job. You will get what you want. The price and half today as soon as the Bank opens. Are we in agreement?"

I reached across the table and shook his hand as the Sheriff came through the door. He marched up to the table and stood there with his hands hooked in his belt above his six-shooter. "You leaving town or not?"

"When I am damned good and ready to, Sheriff. Don't push me. Now, you are interrupting breakfast, goodbye." We watched as he strutted away to a table near the front windows.

The way he slammed down into the seat, you could tell he was upset and he could not do anything about it which made him all the madder, the longer he sat staring out the window. He hardly touched the cup of coffee the waitress sat in front of him. I kept a wary eye on him for tempers seemed to run in the family. Sheriff Cobb glanced over my way once or twice. Finally, his mind made up, he stood up adjusting his gun belt on his hips, then went out the door brushing past someone on the boardwalk and knocking them to the side.

Turning back to Mr. Deeds I said, "Tell me more about the job."

"The town is the one you are sitting in right now. The problem is the Sheriff and his Deputies. There are two more besides his brother. All of them are former outlaws and the local Marshal has not got the balls to do anything about it. I think he is getting a kickback and is always conveniently not around when he is desperately needed."

"Why doesn't the Judge do something about it? He has the legal and moral right to make things right. Is he on the payroll as well?"

"That we have no clue."

"Who are we?"

"Town counsel. They appointed me their representative. The rest of them are afraid to talk."

"Then what the Hell good are they?"

"No one else was willing to take the job."

"What kind of backing can I expect from any of you?"

"I'll back you up. Me and my shotgun that is. Maybe a couple of other fellows around I can scrounge up if needed. Otherwise, you are on your own."

"With the trouble you claim there is. Why haven't you gone to the state capital and gotten a Federal Marshal in here?"

"The other members of the Town Council were against it when I made the suggestion."

"WHY?"

"Haven't figured it out yet."

"Think you'd better wire that Marshal. I might ride out of town for a couple of days, but I will be around." I finished my breakfast and the pot of coffee after Mr. Deeds had left. I paid for my meal and wandered outside for a smoke, another bad habit of mine. As I sat in front of the hardware store next to the Cafe, a Red haired man stood across from me keeping me under his watchful eye. I'd never seen him before and he seemed overly nervous as I stared right back. A few minutes later he walked off toward the Sheriff's Office and I watched him turn into the place. Right then I went to the Mercantile and bought three boxes of shells. I am sure sooner or later I would put them to good use.

At the Hotel I packed up, checked out, and saddled up my horse and a borrowed pack mule, then I rode out of town. I wanted some distance between me and the Cobbs. Eventually, I knew we would have shooting trouble, but it would be on my terms and not theirs.