Chapter 10 – Dust, Revenge and Forgiveness

Small spirals of dust and a solitary child sat on his mother's stoop were all that greeted me as I rode into town, my rifle in one hand, the reins of my horse in the other. The child scampered inside as I dismounted outside the small saloon in the centre of the high street and tied up my horse. I saw no other sign of life as I walked to the centre of the street to stand outside the Sheriff's office.

Nothing mattered other than revenge to me then. Anger still coursing through my veins I lifted the rifle to my shoulder and let all hell break loose.

Bullet after bullet pumped into the jailhouse, prompting yells of surprise from inside and from houses all around as the still of the morning was shattered by my hatred of the man I thought to be inside.

I slung the rifle back into its holster on my back and ran at the door, kicking it open and powering into the confines of the jail. It was a testament to the sloppiness and confidence that these men possessed that the door had been left on the latch rather than being firmly bolted as it should've been. As a man rose from behind the desk, I whipped my gun from its holster, the Rimfire barking a slug into his chest. He slammed into the wall, his tin star spinning to the floor. Another man appeared in the doorway and as a bullet sang past my ear I shot him first in the leg, then in the head as he crumpled in pain.

Moving into the cell area in the back of the jail, I checked the coast was clear and took a second to reload my guns and the rifle before moving back into the street.

Despite the early hour, a few patrons staggered out through the door of the saloon and, for a few seconds, I stood in front of them as they tried to work out what the hell had happened.

"Where's Tennant?" I finally broke the silence, three men facing me across the street.

"He ain't here, who the hell are you anyway?" The oldest of the three spoke. A tall man, with a black Stetson and salt and pepper stubble darkening his cheeks he seemed to be the leader of the small group.

"None of your concern stranger, I'm just here to kill Tennant."

"Then you'll have to go through us," said one of the others hotly, a younger man who's hand immediately dropped to his gun.

The Rimfire spoke once more as all the skills I'd learned over years as a gunslinger came into play. He clutched at his stomach as I dropped to one knee, the pistol spitting bullets at the older man as he too went for his gun, my left hand rapidly fanning the hammer. As he did, I saw the third man also reaching for his weapon and I knew that I couldn't shoot him too in the time I had left to me.

And then another gun spoke as Henry galloped into the street steering Delilah with his knees, his rifle held in clawed hands as he screamed his pain and anger at the men who stood before me. As the last of the men hit the dirt, Henry's bullet ploughing into his torso, Henry reined in his mount with some difficulty and slumped in the saddle before falling off his horse and into my arms.

"Idiot boy," he said almost fondly and then passed out, leaving me kneeling in the dirt with the only person who cared for me.

There was a sudden clatter from the rear of the stables, and a lone man thrashed his horse into terrified movement, his body bent low in the saddle as he raced away in the direction of Tennant's ranch. No bullets followed him and burdened as I was by Henry's prone form, there was little I could do to prevent his escape.

As I laid the unconscious old man to the ground and stood, there was a whisper of movement behind me and I whirled, the Rimfire leaping into my hand to come to rest at the throat of Anton the shopkeeper.

He blinked rapidly for a second or two and then looked steadily back at me, seemingly unafraid.

"Tell me why the hell I shouldn't blow you away you double-crossing bastard," I hissed at him.

Sudden recognition lit the man's face as he gazed into my eyes.

"My God, you're alive?" he whispered.

He alone had walked out into the street to confront me. He was unarmed and stood before me in his working attire, his shopkeeper's apron fastened securely around his waist.

"You haven't answered my question. You sold me down the river to that son of a bitch Tennant. Tell me why the hell I shouldn't kill you?"

He said nothing, looking straight into my eyes as my finger tightened on the trigger, the arm slowly lifting back, raising to its striking position, the hammer poised over the percussion cap of the bullet.

"No!"

A child's voice stopped me, the tone, anguish, and fear piercing through my rage to my soul. And as the anger and adrenalin suddenly dissipated I slowly released the trigger, breathing in choking gasps of dusty dry air. A small girl hurtled from the porched front of the stores to stand between me and her father. Tears streamed down her face as she pushed ineffectually at my legs, trying to force me away from Anton who calmly drew her back from me and then firmly pushed her behind him, once more raising his eyes to look into mine.

I lowered my gun, suddenly overwhelmed by what I'd been about to do, carefully sliding the Rimfire back into its holster. The little girl was clinging to her father's legs, her chest heaving with sobs, but she still glared defiantly at me from behind the shelter of her father.

"It's Emily isn't it?" I managed after a few moments.

She nodded, dashing a grubby sleeve across her face to remove the tears.

"You're a lucky girl to have such a brave father, and he's a lucky man to have such a brave little girl."

I looked back at Anton, meeting his still steady gaze with my own.

"You know who I am?" I said quietly.

He nodded.

"Do you think anyone else will?"

"I don't think so, but you might want to decide on a new name fairly quickly. Did Tennant do this to you?" he asked quietly motioning to my broken nose and altered face.

"He did, and now I'm here to put things right. I'm sorry I threatened you, will you forgive me?"

Anton held out his hand in acceptance. "I will, and your secret is safe with me and Emily son."

As other townsfolk finally summoned up the courage to take to the streets, I took his hand, and an act of forgiveness and bravery set the scene for what followed.

"Put down your weapons," called one of the townsmen as he approached, his Colt pointed directly at my chest.

"No."

As he pulled back the hammer on his gun, Anton moved in front of me and walked towards the man, keeping himself between us.

"I think we've had enough pointless killing recently, don't you Ed?"

Although spoken softly, Anton's voice carried across the street and several people started nodding in agreement.

"Dammit Anton, this son of a bitch shot the Sheriff and threatened you, I say we kill him now and leave his body for Tennant."

"This man is the only one of us who has been brave enough to stand up to Tennant, and he has brought us a chance for redemption. Our so-called Sheriff was Tennant's man and was as much of a criminal as those he was meant to be protecting us from.

"We now have a choice.

"We can live under the boot heel of Tennant for the rest of our lives as he rapes our women, kills our people, threatens our children and steals our money; or we can take this chance and fight."

"Fight? You?" scoffed the man, "You've never even picked up a gun. You think we can fight Tennant and his men? You're a coward Anton, you didn't even bring a gun with you to confront this piece of scum."

"You don't think confronting a gunman unarmed is brave?" My interjection stopped Ed talking and I moved alongside Anton who smiled faintly and held out a placatory hand. 

"What's your name son?"

"Joseph, Joe if you prefer."

"May I borrow your rifle, Joe?" he said turning toward me, the placatory hand turning into an open-palmed request that I filled with my loaded rifle.

"Nice gun," he said admiringly before checking it was loaded and chambering a round.

Anton hefted it and then turned to Ed who still stood with a sneer on his face, one that was rapidly turning to confusion as Anton lifted the loaded gun.

"Well, it's been a while," he said softly.

He looked up at the roof of the stables on the other side of the street and smiled. A few seconds later, a hole appeared in the exact centre of the weather vane, the first having caught the tail of the metal rooster, spinning it madly for a few seconds.

"It draws a little to the left," he said, handing it back to me with a faint smile.

"Just because I don't carry a gun doesn't mean I don't know how to use one Ed," he said to the now open-mouthed man who stood nearby, then raised his voice so it would carry to the townsfolk who stood around us.

"I came to this town to make a new start, and I suspect my new friend Joe here would welcome the same chance I was given a number of years ago.

"Up until now I chose not to carry a gun, I chose to turn the other cheek, and I chose to make my peace where I could.

"I've been wrestling with my inner demons for long enough now. This time I will not turn the other cheek, now I choose to fight; for my child, my business, and my future.

"Many years ago, I lost my wife to a gunman. I will not lose my daughter the same way. This man here is not the gunman you need to fear; Tennant is the man who needs to be taken to account for his actions."

Anton's eyes held Ed's as he spoke, the calm words issued with a power that held the townsfolk spellbound. As he spoke, his daughter's small hand crept into his and the two of them stood facing Ed and the others, protecting me and making their stand. He placed a hand on Ed's shoulder and then raised his voice to address the crowd anew.

"I have guns and ammunition in my store. Anyone who wishes to make a stand with Joe, Emily and myself is welcome to use them. I say we fight, who's with me?"

The answering affirmation turned into a tumult of conversation and people began to make plans. In the bedlam that followed, I mouthed two words to him, and his answering smile to my thanks was like the sun breaking the dawn.