“You got an extra pack horse in their Sonny?” Butch Canady asked.
Busy shoeing, Camp looked up at Canady. He let the hoof slide gently to the ground and stood up. “Just a minute,” Camp said curtly. He hurried to the back of the stable to retrieve Faraday’s pack.
Canady was leaning against the side of the stable door as Camp approached with the horse in tow.
“Thought maybe you forgot about him,” Camp said, making conversation.
“Naw, we just ain’t had a chance to come in and get ’em,” the stoic gunman replied.
“That’ll be ten dollars please.”
Canady slipped his hand into his jean pocket and pulled out a ten dollar gold coin. He flipped it to Camp.
Camp handed the reins to Butch.
“Hear the sheriff had a close call yesterday,” Canady inquired as he grabbed the reins.
“I guess word travels fast around here,” Camp said.
“Yea, one of the boys was in town and heard about it,” Canady replied.
“Sheriff’s fine, the lowlife missed, the other coward ran away.” The muscular young stable hand stared hard at Canady.
“Lucky man,” Canady replied, as he spit on the ground. The gunman’s shoulders slumped as he mounted up and slid down in the saddle. “I kind of get the feelin’ you’re in cahoots with this sheriff.”
“Maybe I am, so what?” a testy Camp replied.
“So... that can be harmful to your health Sonny,” Canady replied.
Unarmed, wearing his leather work apron, Camp stepped over near Canady’s horse. His face was red with anger. “Do me a favor Mister.”
Canady’s eyes narrowed, his cheek bone twitched nervously as he replied, “What’s that?”
“Don’t ever call me Sonny again!” Camp folded his hands into fists.
Canady’s square dark face cracked into a nasty grin, “Now, now Son...”
Camp lurched forward and moved his right arm up for a punch. Canady went for his gun like a flash; he drew it out and slammed the barrel hard against Camp’s face.
Camp’s body fell against the side of the horse. Dazed and disoriented, he went down on one knee.
Canady raised his arm again and bashed the metal cylinder against the back of Camp’s head. He fell hard to the ground and lay moaning, disoriented by the hard blow.
“Bad move Sonny, now go tell that sheriff of yours to put his badge away and fight me man to man. I’ll be in at sundown,” Canady said, a brownish spit ball splashed next to the Camp. His horse pranced nervously as Butch looked down at the battered youngster. He reined her around and galloped rapidly toward Canady’s mansion, pack in tow.
Camp struggled over to the hitching post. He pulled himself up to a sitting position, leaning against the post. His eye was swollen and throbbing, his head ached horribly. He staggered to his feet and headed for the center of town. His knees wobbly, he stopped and leaned against a tree. He glanced up and saw Babe in front of the Barbee. He pushed away from the tree and staggered on. His legs were shaky but he struggled up the stairs in front of the saloon. Suddenly, he fell forward, his hands grabbed hold of the batwing doors. He hung face down between the doors as he swung forward into the saloon.
* * *
Jon’s eyes darted to the door. “My God!” he shouted as he rushed over. Libby screamed. Jon caught the young stable hand before he fell and sat him gently on the floor of the saloon.
“What happened, Camp?” Jon said.
“Ca... Canady came in to g...get their pack horse, we h...had words. T....Then the coward pistol whipped me. He wa...wants to meet you at s....sundown in the st....street.”
“Sam, take Camp down to Doc’s,” Libby ordered.
Sam quickly took off his apron. He hurried over and dropped down on one knee next to Camp. “You think you can get down to Doc’s okay if I help you?” the concerned bartender asked.
“Yea, I th...think so,” Camp replied weakly.
Jon slid his arm out from under Camp as Sam’s went under. Sam pulled him to his feet; they headed for Doc’s office.
Jon was furious.
Libby squeezed his forearm. “Let’s go sit down for a minute.”
“Sorry Libby, I got a rat to kill,” Jon said as he started for the door.
Libby pulled hard on his arm. “Please Jon listen to me!” she pleaded. “It’s a trap. Canady came to town and pistol whipped Camp on purpose. He knew you wouldn’t wait until sundown. They’re waiting on you, Jon. As soon as you get out there, they’ll open fire.”
Jon stood still for a second, his eyes glazed over with anger. As strong as this rage could be, Jon always felt he could control it. Libby was right, it was a trap.
“Call their bluff, Jon,” Libby spoke aggressively. “When Sam gets back, I’ll send him down to Faraday’s. He can tell them that you’ll be ready at sundown. They’ll ride out and tell Faraday and Canady and you’ll get your fight. Fair and square, right here in town.”
Jon looked over at Libby, “You’re right,” he said quietly. “As bad as I want to kill that nasty snake, I’ve got to wait. We’ll have our fight at sundown.”
Libby smiled warmly at her powerful lover.
“Thanks,” Jon said as he pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s three o’clock; I’m going down to the jail and meet with Ed and Jack.” Jon tipped his hat to Libby and hurried out of the saloon.
* * *
Butch Canady’s dark eyes squinted into the sun. “Should be here any time now,” he shouted to nearby Web Norton. Both men were waiting to ambush Jon in the large rocks near the mansion. Two hands took aim across the road.
“You sure he’s comin’?” Web sighed. “It’s been quite awhile.”
“From what I’ve seen of this sheriff, when he gets mad, he kind of goes off. And nothin’ makes him madder than seeing’ one of his friends get hurt. He should be comin’ shortly.”
From where they were sitting, the men had a bird’s eye view of the trail. Plenty of time to set their sights.
Suddenly, hooves could be heard pounding off in the distance. “He’s comin!” Canady shouted. “Get ready boys!” he commanded. “He’s on his way.”
Canady lifted his rifle up to eye level and took a dead bead on the trail, some hundred yards out. The others did the same.
The sound of the hooves got closer; soon a horse and rider were in sight.
“Wait ’til about a hundred yards,” Butch commanded.
The rider shouted out, “Don’t shoot, it’s me Slim Wilson.” He held his hands high above his head.
“What the...” Canady yelped. “Hold your fire!” He slid off the rock as he recognized the approaching rider. He dropped to the ground and ran out to greet Wilson.
The rider approached rapidly, hands held high.
“It’s okay Slim, we know it’s you,” Canady shouted. “Put your damn hands down.”
“Okay, okay. Just didn’t wanta get my head blown off,” Slim said nervously.
“We had a greetin’ party here for the sheriff, what’re you doin’ out here?” Canady demanded.
“That’s what I’m here about; I gotta message from the sheriff.”
“Oh yea! What is it?”
“Sam came down to the saloon and said Sheriff Stoudenmire would meet you out in the street at sundown. Just like you said.” Slim waited anxiously for the gunman’s reply.
“Hmmm... that sheriff’s just full of surprises.” Canady scowled.
“What you gonna do now?” Web asked, approaching from behind.
“I’m gonna meet ’em at sundown, what else?” Canady snapped. “I never really liked this ambush idea anyhow, it’s a coward’s way.”
“Now you got your chance Butch.” Web grinned at the nasty gun.
“Yea, I know. I been itchin’ to kill him ever since that...” Canady’s voice trailed off, too embarrassed to mention the beating.
“It’s four thirty Butch. We got an hour’s ride.”
“Yea, let’s get back to the mansion. I want to heat my six guns up a little. Then we’ll ride.”
Norton nodded.
* * *
The door to the jail slammed shut. Ed and Jack hurried in.
“Got the word out Jon, told everybody to stay in and get the kids off the street,” Ed said.
“Thanks fellas,” Jon said, feet on the desk. He slid fresh bullets into the cylinders of his Army Colts as he sat slumped in his chair. Jon was in the darkness now, anxiously awaiting the pain and violence of the coming exchange with Butch Canady. Constant beatings by a cruel father had prepared him well for such events. He was in his element now, there would be no quarter asked, no quarter given.
“It’s five thirty, Jon. Faraday and Cook just rode into the saloon. Canady and Norton weren’t with them,” Ed said.
“They came in to see me get killed.” Jon scowled. “Web will probably come with Canady. They’ll all meet up at Faraday’s.
“Tell me, Ed, what are the folks out there thinkin’ of Faraday and his boys these days?” Jon asked, his eyebrows raised a little as he waited for the answer.
“From what I hear, they still like Faraday and Cook okay. Folks love havin’ that saloon in town. He’s got more girls than Libby and he brings in more entertainment,” Ed replied. “Also, some of them think you’re putting the heat on Alex to help Libby out at the Barbee.”
“Hmmm...that’s interesting. What about Canady?”
“Nobody likes Canady much. But they accept him cause he works for Faraday. They think Alex brought him to town to help protect his money.”
“What about the murders of Jed and Little Bear?” Jon asked, somewhat annoyed.
“Most of the folks think Little Bear killed Jed and then ran off. They don’t know about the body, remember?” Ed grinned at his big boss.
“Yea, I guess we have kind of kept things quiet. And to tell you the truth, I kind of like it that way for the time being. We need more evidence any how.” Jon took his legs off the desk and stood up. “Why don’t we head on down to the Barbee, Ed. We’ll set up there.”
“I’ll watch the shop,” Jack said.
The door closed behind them, the two lawmen ambled toward the Barbee. As they walked slowly down the dusty street, Jon’s mind went to his vineyard in Southern California. It was soothing to think of his distant paradise at times like this. His mind pictured the beautiful vineyard nestled in a valley at the base of the Sierra Madre Mountains. Row after row of lush green vines being pulled downward by shiny bunches of deep purple grapes. All glistening in the morning sun and warmed by the soft ocean breezes. Just like heaven! he thought. I’ll settle there when my fight’n days are over.
A familiar voice broke the trance.
“Howdy Jon,” Sam shouted as he and Ed approached the bar and moved quickly to the end.
Sam slid a shot of Early Times in front of them.
“Thank you Sam,” Jon said. The patrons got quiet as the music died, all eyes were on Jon.
“No need to be so quiet,” Jon said as he looked around the room. “Just got me a snake to kill, that’s all. No need for worry!” Jon raised his shot to the crowd and smiled. “Bottoms up!” he said as he downed the shot. Many in the crowd tipped their glasses to Jon, conversation began again; the piano started to play.
Libby strolled over from the gambling tables. She looked gorgeous in her dark blue gown and pearl necklace.
“How are you doing, Jon?” she said as she sat down next to him.
“I’m ready to go,” Jon replied confidently. His senses were on high alert; he couldn’t wait for the fight.
“Do you think he’ll show?” she asked.
“Yea, he’ll show,” Jon said as his eyes looked into his empty shot glass. “He thinks he’s the best. Plus a man like him feels no fear, because he doesn’t feel anything. The thrill of killing somebody is what drives him. Taking me out will make him feel good for a little while, that’s all he wants.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be fighting him, being sheriff and all,” Libby said quietly, tears forming in her lovely green eyes.
Jon smiled; he raised his hand and tenderly stroked her cheek. “You know me better than that, Libby, I’ve got to fight him. It’s for the town and for the people and try not to worry; everything will be fine.”
“I know it will,” Libby replied. She smiled bravely.
“Canady’s comin’!” a voice shouted from out in the street. People began to scurry about. Jon glanced through the doors. The steady beat of Butch and Norton’s horses could be heard out front. All dressed in black, Canady looked straight ahead as he and Norton rode slowly past the Barbee.
“They’re headin’ for Faraday’s,” Camp said. “It’s almost sundown. It won’t be long now!”
* * *
Alex Faraday fiddled nervously with his gold cuff links as he awaited Canady’s arrival. He and Cook were sitting at their usual spot on the mezzanine.
“For God’s sake Clive, say something.” He was annoyed at the lack of conversation by his old friend.
“Not much to say, Boss,” Cook replied.
“Not much to say? My dear man, we are about to kill the most famous sheriff in the southwest and you can’t think of anything to say?” Alex was incredulous.
Cook frowned and looked down at the table.
“Well, tell me this Clive, do you think we’re doing the right thing?” Faraday pressed.
Cook looked up at his boss. “We don’t have much choice.”
“Yes, we do have to kill him, but then we still have to get Web elected. Will the townspeople turn on us?” Faraday nervously bit on his pipe.
“I don’t think so; it’s going to be a fair fight. No one can accuse us of bushwhacking our fine sheriff.”
“Well yes... yes, that’s a good point,” he replied nervously.
Suddenly, shouts could be heard coming from out in the street.
“What on earth is that, Clive?”
“Sounds like Butch and Web are here.” Cook pivoted in his chair; his eyes went to the front door. A black glove appeared on the top of the door, Canady walked slowly in, Web was right behind.
“Butch!” Clive shouted.
Canady’s eyes went up to the mezzanine; he nodded and walked toward the stairs.
Alex watched Canady approach the table. “He has a scary look about him,” he whispered to Cook, “and those eyes are pure evil.”
Butch and Web arrived at the table and took a seat. Canady slumped down in his chair, his face hidden under his hat.
“We need to talk, Butch,” Faraday said.
“Okay, then talk,” Butch replied, his shadowy face looking dark and menacing.
“I realize you have a difficult task in front of you my dear man, but...”
“Cut the crap Alex, just spit it out,” Canady snapped.
Alex glowered at Canady. “Okay Butch, I’ll cut the crap! I’ve invested a fortune in this area, with my estate, this saloon and other holdings. If Stoudenmire is able to implicate us in the deaths of Jed Orton and Little Bear; we could all go to jail, or worse yet, be hung. Our plan to dominate the gambling and prostitution in the southwest will go up in smoke. The sheriff must be stopped and it’s your job to stop him!” Alex was angry, seething from Canady’s insult.
Canady’s black eyes shot back at him. “I know what I gotta do Alex, I’m the best. Just have the money ready, five hundred dollars.”
“What?” Alex exclaimed. “I never bargained for this! Are you crazy?”
“You heard me; pay it or I’m ridin’ outa here,” Butch said calmly.
Alex’s face was flush with anger, but he had no choice. He needed Stoudenmire dead and Butch was one of the few men who could do it. “Alright! Alright! Five hundred it is.” His pipe rattled as he tossed it on the oak table and slumped back in his chair. “That sheriff must be killed,” he said quietly.
“I need a drink,” Canady said. He stood and walked down to the bar. The patrons watched quietly as the notorious gunman maneuvered his way to the end of the bar. The bartender slid a glass of Scotch, his favorite, in front of him. He downed the shot, slammed the thick glass on the bar and demanded another.
* * *
Meanwhile, preparations were being made at the Barbee. Jon and Ed were at the bar talking.
“Watch my backside out there, okay?” Jon said directly.
“No problem, Boss, I was plannin’ on it,” Ed replied.
“Faraday wants me out of the way real bad, I think he’ll have a second shooter somewhere. I got the street covered. Check the roof tops for me.”
Ed nodded. Jon smiled at his trusted friend.
The sun was almost down. Jon’s mood was darkening with the desert sky. He thought of Jed Orton, a fine and good man, killed for no reason. He thought of his friend Little Bear, gunned down by a heartless killer. He could feel himself getting angrier and angrier at Alex Faraday, Butch Canady, and the rest of that rat’s nest. He thought of the attempts on Jack Malone’s life and the awful beating of his young friend and cohort Camp Wilson. Soon, Butch Canady would be dead; Jon had no doubts about that. As much as he loathed the killing and violence, he lived for these moments.