The snow fell all night across Miller’s Crossing. On the following morning dawn’s watery light revealed a thick white powdery blanket draped over the whole town. The sky was overcast and bleak, the air frigid and biting.
Inside the home of Doctor Simon Ford the log fire kept the outside chill at bay and the rooms inside at a constant temperature.
Brolin stirred, then came awake with a start. He felt the pressure of a hand on his shoulder and a man’s voice saying:
‘Take it easy Mr. Brolin. You’re safe here.’
First, Brolin realized that he was lying in a bed and second, the man had used his name.
As the doctor’s face swam into focus, Brolin asked:
‘How do you know my name?’
‘You talk a lot in your sleep.’
Brolin closed his eyes and sighed. ‘Where am I?’
‘You’re in Miller’s Crossing,’ Ford informed him. ‘I’m Simon Ford, the doctor. This is my house.’
Brolin sat up and looked about the room. Other than the bed, there was a drawer cabinet, a night stand and a wash table with a dish and a pitcher for water. In the far corner stood a wooden dining chair, just to the left of a window. The door was open and he could feel the warmth drifting in.
‘Where’s my gun?’ he asked Ford.
‘I’ve hung it over a chair in the kitchen.’
Brolin frowned and looked at the doctor. ‘Why are you still in town? I thought everybody had upped and quit.’
‘This is my home. Nobody has the right to scare me from it,’ Ford replied firmly. ‘Besides, I have a man in the other room who has a head injury and hasn’t woken up yet.’
Brolin swung his legs over the side of the timber-framed bed and rested his feet on the carpeted floor.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Ford asked.
‘I got me some men to kill, Doc,’ Brolin told him.
‘Stall?’
‘Yeah. That’s right.’
Brolin went on to fill Ford in on the previous day’s events.
When he’d finished, the doctor said:
‘From what I’ve heard about you, Mr. Brolin, and what you’ve just told me, it is hard to picture you as the cold-blooded killer the stories declare you are.’
‘Don’t let what I’ve told you fool you, Doc,’ Brolin told him. ‘I’ve done my share of killin’. Some of it questionable. But what they said I did to the trail crew was lies. That was Stall. Now I figure it’s time for payback.’
Ford was about to say something when there came a loud, urgent knock at his door. He looked puzzled. He was thinking along the same lines as Brolin: that most, if not all of the town’s citizens had fled when things became wild.
‘Get me my gun,’ Brolin ordered.
While the doctor was gone Brolin found his clothes laid over a chair in the corner. When he put his shirt on his wounded shoulder felt a little stiff, but the doctor had cleaned it and bandaged it.
The knocking continued.
When Ford returned, Brolin was mostly dressed. He took the Remington from the doctor and buckled it on.
‘Right,’ said Ford, ‘let’s see who it is.’
When Ford opened the front door, Brolin stood behind it with his six-gun cocked. He waited and listened.
‘Doctor Ford, we saw your smoke. May we come in?’ a woman’s voice pleaded.
More than one person, Brolin thought.
‘Well ...’ Ford hesitated a moment, ‘I guess. But who’s your friend?’
One other person. Brolin tensed. He guessed it was the doctor’s way of letting him know the other person was a stranger.
‘He helped me get away from those men,’ the woman explained. ‘His name is Emmett.’
Brolin stepped round the open door and looked at the two people standing in the doorway.
‘Let ’em in, Doc,’ Brolin told Ford. ‘King’s one of the good guys.’
The pair walked through the door and they all went on through to the living room. King stared at Brolin, barely able to contain his relief that the gunfighter was there in the same room.
‘Damn it! You’re alive.’
‘So it would seem,’ Brolin answered. ‘What happened to you?’
‘We escaped from them last night,’ King answered.
He related to the gunfighter the events of his ordeal after Brolin had gone into the river.
When he’d finished Ford disappeared; he soon returned with four mugs of steaming hot coffee. He left again and came back with a dress for Candy.
He held it out for her.
‘Please wear it. It was my late wife’s. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.’
Candy hesitated.
‘Please; it will be warmer than the one you have,’ Ford urged her, smiling reassuringly.
Candy took it. ‘Thank you.’
‘You can change through there.’ Ford pointed at a closed door.
After she was gone King turned to Brolin.
‘What are we goin’ to do?’ he asked.
‘We are goin’ to do nothin’,’ Brolin told him. ‘I, on the other hand, am goin’ out there to put an end to this.’
‘Not without me you ain’t,’ King protested.
‘We’ve been through this before,’ Brolin said impatiently. ‘You ain’t comin’. This is what I do - did. Besides, this is between me and Stall.’
‘They killed my son.’ King seethed. ‘If you think you can stop me, you go right ahead and try.’
Brolin knew the store owner wasn’t going to change his mind. He could see it in his face. His eyes blazed, his jaw was set firm.
Brolin nodded.
‘OK. You do what I say, when I say it.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘And no questioning when I tell you what to do. If I tell you to do something, it’s for a reason. More than likely keep you from gettin’ killed.’
Brolin turned towards Ford. ‘Is there a place in town where we can get some more guns? A gunsmith maybe?’
Ford nodded. ‘There’s a gunsmith’s shop down the street a little way.’
Brolin thanked Ford, found his boots and finished getting dressed. He moved to leave, then turned to King.
‘Come on then,’ he said, ‘let’s go and find you somethin’ to shoot with.’
Outside the snow had stopped falling, leaving everything covered in a crisp blanket of white. The two men found the gunsmith’s shop situated beside the blacksmith’s.
Brolin hammered on the door with a fist. When no one answered he broke the lock and they went inside.
The interior was small and dim. Brolin looked about, trying to find something to suit. Along the back wall was a timber gun rack filled with rifles and shotguns. In front of it was a display cabinet where the six-guns were kept.
Brolin walked over to the gun rack first and selected a sawed-off shotgun. He passed it to King.
‘Take this,’ he ordered. ‘It’ll only fire two shots but it’ll give you more chance of hittin’ somethin’.’
He left the rifles where they were. If things went the way he expected the range would be close and they wouldn’t need them.
Next, Brolin moved to the glass-topped counter and looked at the handguns. Inside were a matching pair of Colt Peacemakers. He took them out and looked about the room until he found a twin-holster gunbelt. He unbuckled the Remington and passed it to King.
‘Put it on,’ he told him. ‘After you fire them two shots from the scattergun, you may need it.’
King strapped the gunbelt on while Brolin found some boxes of cartridges for the Colts and the scattergun. He filled the loops on the new belt, then the Peacemakers. He buckled on the belt, then used the rawhide thongs to tie the guns down.
Once finished, he adjusted them so they sat comfortable. Then he relaxed, watching Brolin, curious as to what he was doing.
Then it happened.
In a blur of movement the twin Colts seemed to leap into the gunfighter’s hands already cocked. King stood there, blinking in wonderment.
Brolin slipped them back into the holsters and nodded, satisfied. He’d finally come full circle. Brolin the gunfighter was back.
~*~
‘Don’t tell me. They weren’t anywhere to be seen.’ Stall’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
‘That’s about it,’ Kansas agreed.
The outlaw boss lurched to his feet.
‘If you want somethin’ done right, do it yourself. Come on, damn it!’