‘We’re looking to talk with you, Masters,’ Clem Bowden said and stood in the centre of Main Street, his ranch foreman at his side. He was clutching a Winchester while his man stood beside him, wearing a pair of pearl handled Colts. There were another two men, both armed with rifles, a few feet behind them. The other men had scattered to strategic points of the street.
Cole cursed beneath his breath and looked first at the old man and then at Jessie. ‘You two stay here.’ He took his rifle, an aged Spencer from its hook upon the wall and stepped outside.
‘Then talk,’ Cole replied, feeling a slight tremor in his voice and hoping it wasn’t audible to Bowden and his men. He felt his finger tensing on the trigger of his rifle and took several deep breaths, willing himself to relax. He stepped down from the boardwalk and onto the street He glanced back at the jailhouse to make sure Jessie and the old man had not followed, they hadn’t, and then stared at Clem Bowden.
‘I want you to release my son,’ Clem said.
‘I can’t do that,’ Cole replied. ‘It’s a little more serious than shooting up the town this time. Your son killed someone.’
Clem looked down at the ground and shook his head. ‘I hear it was only a whore,’ he said. ‘And besides any witnesses my boy did it?’
‘No,’ Cole scanned the street. Bowden had men everywhere and there were at least six rifles on him that he was aware of. ‘No witnesses.’
‘Then what makes you certain my boy did it?’
‘Don’t know anyone else who’d take pleasure is cutting up a defenseless woman.’
That seemed to anger Clem. ‘Woman,’ he roared. ‘It weren’t no woman. This was a whore. Just because God gave her titties don’t make her no woman.’
‘She was a woman, sure enough.’ Cole stood his ground, feeling the evil eye of each and every weapon trained on him. He bit his lower lip to quell his nerves and prayed that the anguish he was feeling was not visible. He muscles ached and felt as heavy as lead. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to shoot if the need arose and suddenly the enormity of the danger facing him sent his stomach into spasms.
‘My son will face trial,’ Clem Bowden said, firmly. ‘But until that day comes I’ll see him released into my custody.’
‘No,’ Cole said, spitting the words out of a dry mouth. The whiskey he’d drunk earlier left a sour taste in the back of his throat and he coughed, almost hearing fingers tense on triggers as he did so. ‘I’m the law in this town and I say he stays under lock and key.’
‘We’ll we’re going to take him,’ Clem said and nodded to his ranch foreman besides him. ‘You going to stop us?’
Clem took a step forward and then Cole sensed movement behind him and he turned to see both Jessie and old man Tanner standing on the boardwalk outside the jailhouse.
There was one of Bowden’s gunmen to either side of Jessie and Em and both suddenly trained their weapons on them, one apiece.
‘Shit,’ Cole said.
Clem and his ranch foreman kept their steady pace and were now almost level with Cole. They didn’t alter their course but kept coming with measured, purposeful strides.
Clem Bowden made eye contact with Cole and the beginning of a small smile appeared at the corners of his mouth.
Cole tried to keep his panic under control but it wasn’t easy and he felt beads of sweat being squeezed out of his forehead.
‘That’s good, Sheriff,’ Clem said as they approached him. They were now only a few feet away. ‘You can’t stop us so don’t bother trying. Let’s do this nice and peaceable.’
Cole wanted to call him a son of a bitch. Wanted to draw his weapon and face Hell itself. As long as he took that smug bastard Bowden to the grave with him it wouldn’t have been in vain.
He would have too if it were not for Jessie and Em behind him. If he fired then they would certainly get it, either by design or in the crossfire. Cole guessed the former would be the most likely.
‘I’m just going to take your weapons from you, ‘Bowden said. ‘Don’t get all jumpy and start a war you can’t possibly win.’
Cole narrowed his eyes and bit down even further on his lip so that he tasted blood. He glanced again at Jessie and the old man and then bowed his head while Clem’s hand reached out and took the rifle from his hands, which he in turn handed to his foreman.
‘Good, good,’ Clem said and then ever so slowly slid Cole’s six shooters from their holsters.
‘Very wise,’ Clem Bowden said, turning the guns over and over in his hand while he balanced his own Winchester against his hip. He tossed Cole’s Colts onto the ground several feet away. ‘The keys to release my son.’
He held out a hand.
‘Top drawer of my desk,’ Cole said. He had to resist the urge to reach out and strangle all life from the man’s scrawny neck. ‘And take this while you’re at it.’ He pulled his badge from his shirt and slapped it down into Clem’s hand. He had failed in his duty and didn’t deserve the badge of office. He stood there, head bowed, feeling more shame than fear.
‘You retiring?’ Clem asked and tossed the badge in his hand, as if testing its weight. ‘Can’t say I blame you none. The people of this town sure enough don’t want to back you up. Seems foolish to put your life on the line for them.’
‘Just do what you will,’ Cole snarled, each and every syllable dripping with a thick gravy of contempt but he knew Clem was making sense. If only one or two of the town’s men had stood up and joined the fight then maybe he could have handled the situation. Bowden wouldn’t have been so keen to push if he’d faced several guns rather than a lone lawman.
To Hell with the town.
‘No one gives a damn for one more dead whore. There’s plenty more just waiting to take her place,’ Clem said and brought the butt of his rifle twisting into Cole’s stomach with sudden force, driving the wind from him in a roar.
Cole doubled up and the other man, Bowden’s foreman, hit him squarely in the side of his head with the butt of the Spencer and brought up a knee into his jaw with a sickening thud. It felt like there was a tornado inside Cole’s head and his legs buckled beneath him.
Jessie screamed as she saw him fall to the ground but it sounded faint and distant to Cole like something deep within a dream. He tried to lift himself from the dirt but his limbs refused to work and a paralyzing pain ran the length of his body, sending red-hot pin pricks into the deepest recesses of his soul. He coughed, spluttered, and again tried to lift himself but he had no strength and he didn’t even whimper as he felt another boot being driven into his side.
Mercifully blackness overtook him quickly and everything else ceased to matter. The very air around him became treacle and he could feel himself drifting about in a thick haze.
Cole tried to speak, couldn’t.
Then…nothing.