Jon set the steaming plate of sausage and beans on the small wooden shelf next to Zing Fuller’s bunk. Fuller lay still on his bed until Jon left and pulled the heavy riveted steel door shut and turned the key. Zing took the hot plate of food off the shelf and sat it on his lap. “Bout time!” he mumbled.
“What did you say?” Jon shot back.
“Uh, I said thanks.” Fuller’s thin lips cracked into a smart grin.
“Don’t thank me, Fuller, thank the cook at the Barbee. He’s the one does all the cooking.”
Suddenly the front door swung open.
“Still need that deputy?” Camp Wilson said as he hurried in the room.
“Sure do, Camp,” Jon replied, smiling at his young friend. “I thought you might show up, Pat owes me a favor or two.”
“He told me to take all the time I needed, so let’s get at it,” the anxious recruit replied.
“Okay Camp, I need to swear you in.”
Camp walked over to Jon’s desk and put his right hand on black leather Bible Jon kept on the corner of his desk for such occasions.
“Just follow after me.”
“Okay.”
“Do you Camp Wilson swear to uphold the laws of Mesquite County to the best of your abilities?”
“I do.”
“And do you Camp Wilson swear to stay sober and not use foul or profane language when acting as a deputy of said county?”
“I do,” Camp replied as Jon pinned the metal badge on the pocket of his blue denim shirt.
“Heck, if he can do all that, he oughta be sheriff,” Deputy Ed Morgan chimed in as he walked out of the supply room.
“Now there you go again!” Jon laughed. “Just pipe down Ed and look after the jail while Camp and I pay Faraday a visit.”
“Will do Sheriff,” Ed said as he winked at Camp.
Jon and Camp hurried outside, mounted up, and headed west out of town toward the Faraday mansion, an hour’s ride away.
The desert landscape was showing its stuff as the two riders galloped down the winding trail. The globe mallow, desert lilies, mariposa, and the awesome saguaro cactus were in full bloom on this cool winter day. The delicate beauty of this desert scene was in sharp contrast to the violence that would soon befall this isolated mining town.
Suddenly, a solitary rider flew past. Jon reined to a stop. Babe reared up a little as the rider charged on, head down and chaps flapping in the wind.
“What’s that all about, Jon?” Camp shouted as he pulled up next to Jon.
“Looks like Web Norton, one of Faraday’s boys. He’s probably going into town to meet the stage and check on election results. Might be Butch Canady’s greeting party.”
“I’ve heard Canady is one nasty varmint,” Camp replied.
“Yea he is, we don’t need people like him around here.” Jon’s eyes narrowed as he spoke of the nasty gunman. He could feel the darkness growing inside of him.
“I’ve never met these hombres, what can you tell me about em Jon?” Camp asked as they rode on toward the ranch.
“Well, Alex Faraday is an educated and cultured man. He’s kinda tall and lean and he has a thin face and a small wisp of a mustache. He’s got black shiny hair and it’s always combed and parted on the left. He looks rich and always dresses to the nines. He likes silk shirts and fancy vests.
“How about Cook?”
“Cook’s his right hand man. He was a bare knuckles boxer back in England and held the light heavy weight championship of Great Britain for awhile. He’s a big guy and looks like he weighs two hundred plus. These two are like fire and ice, but they make a nice team. Faraday’s smart and comes up with their crooked schemes. Cook’s pretty handy with a gun and makes a great enforcer for Faraday.”
“You think they’ll be out here?”
I hope so. My guess is they’re holed up at Faraday’s enclave waiting for the results of the election. Local custom discourages candidates from being in town during the vote, except when casting their own ballot. They voted in the morning and then rode back out here. They’ll be surprised to see us, I guarantee you that.”
“Is that the mansion up ahead there?” Camp asked.
“Sure enough is.”
“Quite a place.”
The two lawmen rode slowly toward the front of Faraday’s sprawling estate.
“I just saw somebody looking out one of the back windows, they probably know we’re here,” Jon surmised as he dismounted and tied down. Jon walked up to the double oak door on the front of the mansion and slammed the gold knocker a couple of times. He could hear someone hurrying toward the door. Suddenly, the door swung open as Clive Cook stepped out.
“Sheriff Stoudenmire, what a nice surprise! And you also, Mr. ....? “
“Camp Wilson,” he replied.
The big Brit nodded at Camp. “Welcome Mr. Wilson, I take it you gentlemen are here to see Alex?”
“If you don’t mind, Clive,” Jon replied.
“Well certainly. Mr. Faraday is in his study. Come right in.” Cook stepped back and waved his arm toward the study at the end of the long entryway.
“Thank you kindly,” Jon replied as he and Camp walked toward the study.
They looked around at the plush leather chairs and large oil paintings of kings and queens that decorated the beautiful oak hallway. Jon pointed up at a huge antler chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling; he smiled as Camp craned to see the large edifice.
The three men reached the end of the hallway; Jon stepped aside as Cook moved forward and grabbed the large knocker on the den door. He pounded it several times, announcing their arrival. The door swung open almost immediately.
“Why hello, Sheriff, what a surprise! Please come in,” the ever-gracious Faraday exclaimed, motioning with his thin hand for the men to enter.
“Sit down, gentlemen, please sit down,” he said politely as they approached his desk.
“Thank you Alex,” Jon replied as he and Camp sat down in front of Faraday’s large cherry wood desk.
“And to what do I owe this pleasure?” Faraday asked as he eased into his leather chair.
“Oh we were just out riding and thought we’d stop in and say hello,” Jon replied. He glanced over at Camp who was trying mightily to keep from laughing.
“Well I know better than that Mr. Stoudenmire, and I’m a very busy man, so...”
Jon interrupted the uppity Brit. “You’re right Alex, you are a busy man. With the election about over and a guest coming and all, I’m sure you have plenty to do,” Jon said as he looked directly at Faraday.
“Guest? I don’t know what you mean Sheriff.”
“Let’s not play games here Alex. The sheriff in Tombstone wired me just today and told me that Butch Canady had spent the night there and was on his way to Logan’s Crossing to work for an old friend. That friend is you Alex and it concerns me very much. Butch Canady only knows how to do one thing and that’s kill people. I’m just wonderin’ why you hired a man like that to come here to Logan’s Crossing.”
The muscular Cook, standing to the right of Jon, moved closer as Faraday spoke up.
Faraday’s eyes narrowed. “That’s none of your affair, Sir. So I would suggest that you mind your own business.” Alex appeared confident with his enforcer, Cook, nearby to protect him.
“Now you listen to me, Faraday. When somebody brings a hired gun into Mesquite County, that’s definitely my business.”
Cook moved even closer to Jon; he was now standing just a foot away. The tension in the room was thick as Camp sat up in his chair, hand on his peacemaker.
“Tell Cook to back off, Alex,” Jon said calmly.
“I don’t believe that would be proper, Sir. I think the proper thing would be for you and your young friend to leave immediately.” The stuffy Brit thought nobody could match his powerful friend.
“Tell him to back off Mr. Faraday, the sheriff is starting to get mad and you don’t want to see that!” Camp warned.
“Oh my, I’m sure that Clive is just shaking in his boots, young fellow. The man’s a famous prizefighter for God’s sake. Now if you boys would...”
“Let’s go!” Clive Cook shouted as he slapped his large hand on Jon’s shoulder signaling him to get up and get out.
“Take your hand off me!” Jon said as he started to slowly get up from his chair.
“I’m not playing around with you Stoudenmire!” Cook’s right hand went toward his six gun.
Jon’s hand folded into a fist. He quickly turned and blasted the big Brit with a mighty blow to the gut.
“Ughhh!” The big man’s eyes almost popped out of his head from the force of Jon’s powerful punch. Jon had Cook back on his heels, writhing in pain and gasping for breath. He quickly raised his right arm high above his head and with a violent downward motion he slammed his right elbow into the huge man’s rib cage.
“Ahggg!” Cook shouted as he fell hard to the floor holding his side and his stomach. Jon looked hard at a shocked Faraday; his eyes were wide as he watched his huge enforcer roll around in pain on his expensive rug.
Jon shouted at him. “I know what you’re up to around here Faraday. Let this be a warning to you and your hired guns. If you try to move in on this town, you’re gonna have to go through me!” Jon exclaimed. Faraday was speechless.
“Don’t forget what I told you!” Jon said sternly as he and Camp backed out of the den and into the hall.
The Brit nodded nervously as he continued to look down at the battered Cook.
The two lawmen turned and walked through the beautiful hallway, spurs jingling, and out the front door. They yanked the leather straps loose, mounted up, and rode rapidly toward town. As they rode along the dusty trail, Jon felt himself becoming very angry at the developing showdown. The arrogance of the wealthy Brit in the face of the law infuriated Jon. His anger was rising; the darkness was starting to come, darkness that would be the precursor to another orgy of violence. Violence propelled from the very soul of this tormented lawman. The beating of Clive Cook just whetted his appetite; there was a devil rising up once again in Jon, out in the dirt and heat of the desert.