When Brent had gotten his coughing under control, he looked at Ted and demanded, "What was so all-fired imprortant that you can chargin' in here like you was on fire?"
"We go a problem in town, Brent. I was over at the saloon when I heard a coupla men talkin' 'bout findin' ya and gettin' rid of ya. I walked out and hurried over here, to let you know who what was goin' on and let ya know that I found out one one of the names."
Brent raised his eyebrows, "Oh yeah? Who?"
Ted sighed and said, "McPhearson."
Brent jumped up and said, "What? McPhearson? I thought he was in Yuma prison!"
Ted held his hands up and said, "Don't shoot the messanger. What are we going to do?"
Brent sighed and couldn't believe his luck. McPhearson in histown. The last time he had seen McPhearson he had been seventeen and had stopped him from beating a young boy, who was ten, whom McPhearson had said stole from him. When he had next seen McPhearson, it had been the man's trail when he testified against him. The boy that Brent had saved had suffered a broken rib and wrist and they could never prove that he had stolen anything. McPhearson had been sentenced to five years at Yuma. Even as the sheriff was escorting him outside, he was screaming and vowing his revenge on Brent. Brent knew that McPhearson was dangerous but that wasn't going to make him doing his job. Not now, not ever.
"Brent, ya okay buddy?"
Brent shook himself out of his musings and said, "Sorry. I was thinking about the last time that I had the misforune to run into McPhearson." Brent sighed and said, "We'll do what we've been doing. Keepin' the law. Bu I want you to be careful, McPhearson is a dangerous man."
"I will," Ted promised. "Are we going to do something about what I heard? Him bein' after ya?"
"Not yet. He hasn't done anythin' 'cept talk. Ain't no law against talkin'. We'll have to wait and see if he makes a move. But we'll both be on the look-out. I don't want neither of us surprised, okay?"
"Ya got it."
Later that afternoon, Brent was helping the elderly Nettie Owens with her groceries, carring them to her place across the street, when he heard a voice call his name. He turned and saw McPhearson standing on the boardwalk, in front of the saloon, smiling at him. He finished helping Misses Ownes to her place, making sure that she was safe inside, before he spoke to McPhearson. "McPhearson. What can I do for ya?," he evenly asked.
McPhearson sneered, "I'm callin' ya out. Right here, right now."
Brent shook his head as he saw Ted standing on the sidewalk, silently asking what he was to do. Brent covertly shook his head, silently telling him to just stay put for now. "I'm not gonna have a showdown with ya, McPhearson. I'm the law. Now, either go about your buisness or I'll have to take you over to the jail."
"I said I'm calling you out!," McPhearson growled between clenched teeth. He whistled and Brent saw a man walk out of the Drake's Mercantile holding a gun to Emmett Drake's head. Brett mentally cursed as McPhearson started speaking again. "Now, lawman are you going to fight? Or, do you wnat me to have my Ralph kill that poor man?"
Brent looked at the man named Ralph, holding Mister Drake, and knew that Ralph wouldn't hesitate to kill him if ordered to do so. He sighed, knowing he had only one option. He turned back to McPhearson, "Fine." McPhearson smiled as the citizens hurried in-doors, trying to get to safety. The only people remaining outside were Brent, McPhearson, Ted and Ralph with Mister Drake. McPhearson and Brent walked out onto the dirt street, standing ten feet apart. Brent was scared, who wouldn't be in the same situation. They drew, Brent being a second faster. Something entering Brent's back caused him to stumble forward and his shooting arm jerk to the left and shoot McPhearson in the arm. He felt another sting in his chest and looked up at the sky as he fell foward, face-down on the ground.
Brent shook his head as he sood up and looked around. He heard shooting and could see Ralph push Mister Drakes away as he fought to defend himself and McPhearson. Ted was behind the sheriff's office, firing at the two men. He was confused and saw a body laying in the street. He rushed over to it, thinking he could help, and nearly screamed when he realized that it was him. He instinctivily knew that he was dead.
'Guess I'm a...what? Ghost, mabey,' he thought. Something out of the corner of his eye caused him to turn his head. He saw a man with a rifle heading toward Ted. He couldn't let his deputy...former deputy...die! He ran...faster than he could ever remember running when he was alive...toward Ted and the man. Just as got there, Ted turned around and saw the man and was getting ready to fire. The man was able to pull off a shot before Ted and Ted thought he was a goner. But just before the bullet peirced his skin, it stopped in mid-air. The man and Ted stared at each other for a moment before looking back at the bullet, too stunned to worry about trying to kill each other. The bullet dropped to the ground and the rifle was taken from the man's hands, striking him in the head and knocking him out. Ted didn't know what to but, after a bullet hit the ground too close for comfort, he realized that he was still being shot at. He whirled around and fired at the two men. Luck seemed to be on his side because he was able to shoot both men. They went down, not moving, so he felt that it was safe to move away from hiding. He rushed over to the two men and felt for their pulses. He realized they were dead and motioned for the undertaker, who had ventured outside with the other citizens when the shooting stopped.
As the undertaker started dealing with the two dead men, Ted walked back over to the third man. He was still laying on his back, passed out. Ted felt a touch on his shoulder and looked down but couldn't see anything there. Then he heard a voice that caused him to nearly faint.
"Ted, it's me. Brent."
Ted whirled around, toward the voice, and said, "Brent? I saw you die."
"Yep. I did. That man I knocked out, I'm pretty, is the backshooter. McPhearson had it all covered."
"I'm sorry, Pard. I failed you. But I swear that this peice of trash will rot in Yuma."
It's not your fault, don't keep thinkin' that! Ya hear me?"
"Yeah. How come I can't see ya?"
Brent laugfhed, "I'm not quite sure. I'm new to this whole dead thing, ya know."
Ted looked a little sheepish and asked, "What are you going to do now?"
"I think I'll stick around for a while."
As the years passed, the citizens of San Antonio knew that they had a spirit watching over them. They all speculated that it was the former sheriff, help always seemed to arrive when they needed it. As the citizens enjoyed their town over the years, they would smile and thank Sheriff Brent Howard.
