The Deliverance of Colin Town
By Elly Leaverton

The sun had just passed its zenith when Miss Lena released the children from the one-roomed schoolhouse.  It was harvest season. The children were needed at home this time of year.  School could only run half the day, but Miss Lena didn’t mind.  It gave her a much-needed chance to catch up.  Teachers always seemed to be playing catch up these days!  She was just cleaning up to leave when four of her students returned.  The boys were beside themselves with excitement.

            “Miss Lena, come quick!” yelled the smallest of the four boys.

            “What is it, Thomas?” asked Miss Lena

            “We found a stranger!” piped Samuel, a favorite of hers.  

“Out at the edge of the plains,” added Jonathan, her chief troublemaker.

“He’s awful taken with the heat!” reported Thomas again.

“Very well. Now Thomas, you get the water jug and fill it up.  Samuel bring the wash rags.  Jonathan, you run into town and tell Doctor Beau that were bringing in a sick man.  Reginald, you lead the way.”

Each of the boys scurried around to their appointed tasks, and soon Miss Lena and three of the boys were headed down the road.  She had to chide them several times for rushing ahead, especially young Thomas who carried the all-important water.

The man was sitting under a tree at the edge of the plains.  His eyes were closed, and his lips blistered and cracked.  His horse nearby was also in poor shape, although not as bad as its master.   The man had brown hair, which hung over his face.  He had a slender muscular build.  He didn’t seem to be much older than Lena herself.  He sat with his back against the tree, head leaned back, and with his hat lying discarded near him as if he’d collapsed against the tree.

Miss Lena took the jug from Thomas and knelt down beside the stranger.  “Sir?  Are you awake?”

The stranger opened his reddened blue eyes and fixed the schoolteacher with an intense stare.  His beautiful eyes took on a slightly dazed look after briefly focusing on her. “You’re an angel.” The man croaked,  “I must be dead.”

“No sir, now you listen here and drink some of this water.”  Miss Lena held the jug to his lips and supported his head as he drank.  “Not too much now. You’ll get sick. We have to cool you down.  Samuel, hand me those rags. Thomas, you and Reginald take that horse back to the school, get it watered and brushed down.  It’s in no condition to carry anyone.” 

As she spoke, Lena dipped the rags in the water and laid them across the stranger’s head.  He sighed at the feeling.  She removed the bandana at his throat and opened the front of his shirt.  She placed more wet rags over his hairless chest, and one at the back of his neck.  She tried not to pay attention to his fine collarbone and well-defined muscles.  She also warily made note of the six-shooter at his hip, the weapon of a gunfighter.  She buttoned his shirt back in place to secure the wet rags.  Then she made him drink more.

“Samuel, you and I will support him back to the school, then we’ll take him the rest of the way on my horse.”

Doctor Beau was a rare breed of woman. The type that didn’t let anyone tell her what she could or couldn’t do, or what she could or couldn’t be.  The town folk probably wouldn’t have accepted her as the doctor if not for the need.  After the murder of the previous doctor, they had little choice.  She’d quickly proven herself, and there were few complaints now.

“I’d say he’d just gotten a little too much sun.  You’ve done the right thing Miss Lena.  We just need to get some salt water down him and he’ll be right as rain in the morning.”  Doctor Beau said.

“Oh that’s a relief.”  Miss Lena clasped her hands together in front of her chest.  “Is there anything else I can do?”

Doctor Beau started mixing up a salt solution, “Hmm well, why don’t you find him a hearty meal?  It would help.” 

The patient looked quietly from doctor to rescuer,  “Don’t go to trouble now…” he said quietly.

“Oh it’s no trouble!” protested Miss Lena, “Besides I want to see you again.”

“Why?”

“Oh, it’s not every day I get to be somebody’s angel.”  With that she turned and left.

“Humph.” The young man watched her leave with feigned disinterest.  Some part of him was pleased to know he would see her again.  From the first moment he’d opened his eyes under that tree, she’d had an effect on him.  He truly had thought she was an angel at first with her serene blue eyes and lovely golden hair forming a halo in the sunlight around her head.  She had a heavenly beauty unlike any he’d seen before... 

The doctor interrupted his remembrance. “Drink this,” she ordered.  “No matter how bad it tastes, you need it.”

The stranger made a face and closed his eyes.  He quickly downed the whole glass just to prove he could do it.  He shuddered involuntarily afterwards.

The doctor smiled at the proud young man.  “What’s your name stranger?”

“Harry.  Harry Grant.”

“Grant? Like the president?”

He nodded.

Miss Lena carefully balanced the tray of food as she tried to open the door to the doctor’s office with her elbow and foot.  She had just gotten the door open when she heard shouting behind her.  A large band of three dozen men rode into town.  They shot off rifles into the air as they rode about.  Some ran into the buildings forcing the people out at gunpoint.

Harry sat up in bed, looking curiously out the door.  Miss Lena sighed deeply and set the tray down on the bedside table.

“Better put your boots on…” Lena handed Harry his boots, “It won’t be long.”

“What’s goin’ on?”

“A speech…from the great protector.” Answered the doctor as she walked into the room. 

Two large greasy men ran into the office. Yelling, it seemed, just to yell. Understanding them was impossible.  They broke a few things, while Miss Lena and Dr. Beau helped Harry out the door.  Dr. Beau was giving them an ear-full about moving sick patients, but the men didn’t listen.  She knew they wouldn’t.

The three of them were herded with the rest of the town’s people into the center of the square with the gunmen surrounding them.  A man in a suit stood at the front of the crowd.  Lena confirmed to Harry that the man was the town mayor.  One of the gunmen, a tall man, moved his horse towards the mayor as the other gunmen fell quiet.

“What’s the meaning of this Captain Troy?  We’ve paid our fee for this month.”

“Mayor Dorian, if you will give me leave, I will tell you.” Said the quiet man on the horse.  His clothes were a mockery of a soldier’s uniform done completely in leathers.  Perfectly stitched, immaculate, just the wrong color and the wrong fabric.  He wore a stylish black coat over one shoulder. 

“This morning my men discovered a most distressing sight.  Last night people from this town took it upon themselves to hang two of my men.  This act of murder will not go unpunished!  We are here to find the criminals.”

Whispers and murmurs filled the crowd, this was not the usual speech.

“But how do you know…” The mayor started.

“Silence!” Captain Troy interrupted sharply.  “The evidence was most damning was it not Sheriff Martin?”

From behind Captain Troy, a man sitting on the front porch of the jailhouse slowly rocked his chair forward and placed both long legs on the wooden porch.  He rose to his full impressive height, a shock of long blond hair added to his impressiveness.  “Captain Troy, I have to inform you that I have looked into this matter.”  He said with a dust-graveled voice.

Captain Troy C. Reynolds’ eyes never left the mayor’s, “My!  That is good to hear.  What did you find out?”

“The evidence clearly points to Mr. Smith and Mr. Beau.”

The doctor supporting Harry’s left side stiffened, “Father.” She whispered.  The town folk gasped and whispered in dismay.

“And what do you plan to do about it Sheriff?” Asked Troy.

“Well, they’ll be arrested, of course, and confined here, until the circuit judge gets here.”

“And when is that, Sheriff?”

“Six months.”

“Well, I just can not allow that!  This town is under my protection.  To allow two murderers to be confined here for that long puts my people at great risk!”

The sheriff looked straight across the street showing a chisel-cut profile.  He smiled, “If you feel this is a military matter, then I leave it in your hands.  We are on a frontier town here and we must do what’s best for the community.”

“No…” The doctor moaned.  The townsfolk shifted and mumbled in distress.

Harry looked back and forth between the two women.  As he scanned the crowd, he noticed a lack of fighting spirit in the town.  Was there going to be no one to speak in defense of the accused men?

“Soldiers,” ordered Captain Troy. “Find the criminals and form a firing squad!”

Obviously, not, thought Harry.

While all the people of the town watched helpless, the two men were ripped from the loving hands of their families, and placed blindfolded in front of Troy’s “soldiers”.  Without even a “ready, aim, fire” the men were riddled with bullets and left to die in the street.  Quiet shock echoed throughout the town. Then reality hit. Harry and Lena found themselves supporting and holding back the doctor, who screamed and cried and tried to rush to her father.

“Let this be a warning to anyone who feels it necessary to break the law.  I protect this town.” Captain Troy sneered at the crowd.  “There will be no violence or criminal behavior on my watch.  Any such rebellion against the righteous law of America will be swiftly punished!”

Silence echoed through the town.  A slow smile spread across the face of the Captain.  One of his men rode up beside him.  The man mumbled a few words to the Captain.

“Ah, yes, I almost forgot!” said Troy, “On to more pleasant business.  My aid informs me that there is a young man who is now old enough to join my army of town protectors.”

People looked with fear at the captain and at each of the young boys in the crowd.  Harry saw Lena wince and look alarmed.  It would be one of her students.

“Would Jonathan Lee come forward.”

“No,” gasped a woman.

“Now, now mother,” said the Captain from his horse, “You know your son will be returned after he’s served his two years.  And we don’t want to see the results of draft-dodging do we?”

“No we don’t.” Came a strong voice from the crowd, which parted to reveal the strong figure of the town preacher.  His hand rested on the shoulder of a boy.  Harry recognized the boy as one who helped Lena to bring him in. The preacher was a man of average height with flaxen blond hair.  He had a gentle look about his eyes and demeanor.  “Come on now son.”  The two walked forward.

The boy Jonathan looked fearfully up at the preacher, “Father…I…”

“Don’t worry, son. You won’t be there long, I promise,” whispered the preacher. “Go now.”

The boy was pulled up behind one of the gunmen.  With a thunder of hooves, the band road from town.  Harry and Lena let go of the doctor who ran to her father.  For several minutes, the two of them stood there, just watching.  Feeling guilty for watching the sorrow of others but unable to tear their eyes away.  Lena closed her eyes, shook herself and returned to Harry’s side to support him back to the doctor’s office.  He no longer needed it, but minded neither her care nor her close contact.

“That shooting…That wasn’t legal was it?” He asked her quietly.

“Captain Troy and his bandits make up their own laws,” she replied bitterly.

“The sheriff just let them…with no trial…”

“Sheriff Tex Martin is just another of the Captain’s paid goons.  Life in Colin Town will never change.  I raise and teach these boys to watch them be shot or become a bandit for Troy.” Her voice carried a hint of despair.  “It’s best you get on your way as soon as you feel up to it, Harry.” 

A tear slipped from the lovely face of the schoolteacher. She looked at him. “If you stayed, they’d just shoot you too.  Every traveler learns that and clears out fast.”

“Humph,” grunted the young man noncommittally.

“Oh your dinner’s cold!”  Miss Lena exclaimed in dismay at the door of the office. “You still need a hearty meal!”

Harry thought for a moment, then suggested, “Why don’t you take me over to the tavern?  I think I can walk that far.  I’ll get a meal there and the doctor can have the space if she needs it.”

She agreed and turned him towards the tavern.  Harry reflected on whether he made the suggestion to learn more about this town’s problems or to stay close to the young schoolmistress.  Harry pushed that thought from his mind, he was a gunfighter after all and the last thing she needed.

“Who’s that,” asked Harry over a bowl of stew.

Miss Lena turned and looked in the direction he indicated.  “Oh that’s a trapper, who comes to town from time to time.  Donald…no…Dan…Doug, maybe?  I don’t remember. Hilda runs a trading post in town so we get trappers through here.  However, they never stay long.” 

“Why does he have such long hair?” Harry asked, looking at the very long braid hanging down the trapper’s back.

“Trappers? They like to fit in with the Indians. He’s wearing leather and beads too.  See?”

Harry nodded,  “He also has a gun,”

Miss Lena understood.  “So do you.”

She shook her head. “The people who need to fight for this town are the people that love it,” she said simply, looking away. A woman in a pale purple dress walked in and greeted the trapper.  “There’s Hilda now.  She’s quite the businesswoman.”

“Ah! Hilda!  Yer a bit late,” said the trapper.

“I know you’ve been sleeping the day away Doug, but we’ve had a couple shootings.  I’ll have to post-pone our meeting.”

“But Hilda!  I’ll have nothin’ to gamble with!”

Hilda made an impatient sigh and looked away from the trapper.  “I doubt you’ll find any players anyway,” she snapped.

“Aw, I’m sorry Hilda.  So, tomorrow then?”

“Sure, I’ll come in the morning.” Hilda looked incredibly sad.

“Hey Hilda, when are you gonna put this tradin’ post behind ya and marry me?”

Finally he got a smile from her, but it didn’t reach her eyes, “I will Doug, when this town is safe enough for husbands and children. ”  With that Hilda pushed through the swinging doors and was gone.

The trapper stood up with a big grin.  “Didya hear that everyone?  Hilda’s gonna marry me.”

“Yeah I heard, if you clean up the town,” chimed in the bar keep.

“Well,” snorted the trapper, “Ah always did think that Troy was a little too big for his britches.  Ah guess I’ll just have to go kill him,” he said confidently.

“Yeah,” said Harry. “You and what army?”

The sound of a single gunshot echoed throughout the bar.  The glass in Harry’s hand shattered.

“Anymore stupid questions stranger?” the trapper said intimidatingly over the barrel of his smoking gun.

Then the trapper brightened, “Hey, but yer a good lookin’ kid.  No hard feelin’s.  I’ll even let ya be my side-kick.”  Laughter erupted in the tavern; the trapper smiled and swung himself towards the bar, his long braid flying out behind him.

Another gunshot ran out.  A small piece of leather fell to the floor.  Miss Lena gasped.  Harry holstered his gun and picked up his spoon. The trapper looked back as a wave of hair unraveled and settled over his shoulders.  Harry had shot the leather strap that held it!

“Whoa, a gunfighter?  Ah take it back, we’d have to be pardners!”  He changed directions and pulled a chair over to their table.  “Hey there Miss Lena.  Bat your good lookin’ eyes and get this here guy to come help me win my love.”

“Miss Lena doesn’t think we should save this town,” said Harry quietly.

“What? Why not?” asked the trapper as he started to re-braid his hair.

“We don’t love the town.”

The trapper chuckled,  “A town is nothin’ without people, and Ah love Hilda.  So it’s fine with me.”

“But you’re just one man!” protested Miss Lena.

“I’d go with him,” said Harry.

“Why?” asked Miss Lena.

“Let’s just say I owe an angel a favor.”

“I’d never ask that of you.”

“I wouldn’t do it if you asked.”

“It’s settled then.” The trapper grinned.  “Just call me Doug.  Hey, we’ll be quite a duo, me ‘n’ you!  Poor Troy, Ah almost feel sorry fer the bastard.” 

The double swinging door to the tavern was pushed open.  A tall man in a white-fringed cowboy shirt walked into the bar. He was dazzling.  Too dazzling to be real, right down to his far too white boots.  He was obviously a showman.  And if his clothes weren’t enough to convince a person of that fact, the two people who followed him would.  The woman was radiant in her pink and purple cowgirl costume.  The fringe from her arms reached past her waist.  The other character was also bright and fringed covered.  He wore green and white clothes with sequins sparkling about his shoulders.  His hair was brown and seemed to fall oddly over his face so as if by turning his head he could conceal either the left or the right side.  It gave him a dark and powerful look.

Harry, Miss Lena and Doug fell silent to listen to the pitch of the man in white.

The leader proclaimed himself to be Colonel Jefferson West and he began to pitch his circus of fancy shooters and knife-throwers and Indians.  The best stagecoach stunts they’d ever seen and if they would all step outside, he’d show them a sample of what was in store for them if they came to the show.  The town’s folk obliged him, desperate for any distraction from their troubled lives.

The lady in purple and pink turned out to be “Wild Kate” the expert knife thrower.  She neatly sliced through a single card as the Colonel tossed it into the air, and put a knife between each finger of the splayed hand of the other young man.  The crowd was hooked.  The young man turned out to be her brother the great “Trent Harton”, a sharpshooter.  He did the traditional shooting of a cigarette from his sister’s mouth.  Then he did it again over his shoulder with a mirror.  The townspeople clapped, and oohed and aahed at the right moments.  They left the demonstration talking about going to see the show, happy for a brief reason to smile.

The performers returned to the tavern to book a night’s lodging before the rest of the show rolled into town.  They settled down at a table nearby to eat.  Harry, Miss Lena and Doug, had just reclaimed their seats after watching the demonstration from the tavern window. 

“What did you think?” asked Harry.

“Well, it certainly was diverting!  Perhaps, it’s just what this town needs to get its mind off the troubles.” said Miss Lena, sitting back down.

“Oh this town won’t have troubles much longer,” asserted Doug.

“You two weren’t serious before?  You really are planning on taking on Captain Troy C. Reynolds and all his bandits?”

Because Miss Lena had started by talking about them, the table of performers had been listening, and at the mention of Troy’s name, Wild Kate started.  She interrupted Miss Lena, “Did you say Captain Troy C. Reynolds?  Tall fellow with a leather uniform?”

“Why yes.  Have you heard of him?”

Wild Kate clapped her hands across her heart in obvious distress, then hugged herself, “Oh Trent!  We just can’t stay in this town!”  The young man stood up and took her into his arms.

“Calm yourself sister!” comforted Trent. “I’ll protect you.”

“No!  We just have to get away!  I don’t want you to protect me!  I don’t want you to have to.” She ripped herself from his grasp and whirled to face the leader,  “Boss, surely we can skip this town?”

The boss shook his head, “I’m sorry Kate, but we need the money and supplies to get to the next town.”

 As a sob escaped from her throat, Kate leapt from the table and rushed upstairs.  Trent stood looking after his sister holding a hand out as if to follow her, then his hand formed a fist.

“What was that all about?” asked Doug.

Trent walked over to their table, “If you know where this Troy person is.  Tell me.  He must pay for what he’s done to my sister.”

“Well, how do ya like that?” asked Doug, “It’s rainin’ guys with a reason to kill Troy!  Join the club. Trent was it? And we’ll let ya in on the plan!”

“No,” cried Miss Lena, “There has to be a better way.  They’ll kill you all and bring a war down upon the helpless people of this town!”

Harry leaned forward and covered the distressed teacher’s hands, “Miss Lena, I’ll accept it as my mission to protect you and Colin Town.  A mission is something I never fail.”

“Somehow I knew that about you…” She sighed and gazed into his intense eyes as if they alone could protect her.  “But you’re risking too much, Harry.  Your life…”

“That is nothing.  It’s owed as a debt to the town and the person that saved me.”

“What nonsense,” exclaimed Miss Lena.  Then her attention was pulled to the door, as the preacher entered.  “Ah, there’s the preacher!  Maybe he can convince you to reconsider!” 

She waved to the blond, blue-eyed preacher,  “Father Kat!  Come talk to these men, please.”

“I’d love to.” The preacher answered her and strolled over.  “I think these are the very gentlemen, I came in here to meet!”

Trent took one look at the preacher and his eyes went round, he jumped to his feet and saluted him, “Colonel Tracey! Sir!”

“Oh now, now!  It’s Father Tracey these days. Let’s have none of that between friends…you were a sergeant? Right?”

“Yes, sir! Sergeant Trent sir!  How did you remember that?”

“Well, Trent, if I remember correctly, you were one of the finest marksmen under my command.”

“Forgive me Father, but aren’t ya a little young to have been a colonel in yer past?” asked the trapper.

            “Certainly, but I was a boy-genius from a long line of Military leaders before me. And my family was rich.  It’s amazing what a little money can buy a kid!  But I proved myself on the battle field.”

            “Yes you did sir!  We would’ve followed you into hell, sir.  Oops!  I mean…” exclaimed Trent.

            The preacher laughed, “I think I did lead you there once.  Now I lead people to heaven.  I disinherited myself to come here and preach the good word.”

            “Father!” Miss Lena said insistently, “These three men are seriously thinking of taking on Troy, all by themselves!”

            “So the rumor-mill told me, my child.  That’s why I came here…to join them.”

            “Oh, Father Kat!” Miss Lena slumped defeated in her chair.

The next morning, the four men stood about a map on the desk in the Preacher’s small office.  The map showed the bandit’s ranch and an outlying encampment.  A plan of attack was drawn out by one who could only be a military man.

            “It’s a good plan,” said Harry, “But who’s the fifth man?”

            “I have often found that most plans are worthless,” commented the preacher as he gathered up the map, “But planning is essential.”

            “I’m afraid Ah don’t know of another gunfighter in this town,” said the trapper.

            “The fifth man,” announced the preacher, “Is the man whom Troy expects to come.”

            “What?” asked Trent.

            “Troy doesn’t do anything without a reason.  The shootings yesterday were not random.  They were meant to challenge one man.  And he will answer it.  What we have to do now is find him and join him before he rushes in there alone.”

            “Who is he?” asked Doug.

            The preacher turned toward the door behind him, “Doctor? Are you ready to join us?”

            The door opened and the bent unhappy figure of Doctor Beau stepped into the room.  “I have decided.  I will take you to my husband.”

            “What?  Doctor Beau is hitched?” asked the trapper, “Ah didn’t know that, and Ah keep up with the gossip…”

            “No one knows,” replied Father Kat, “I married them in secret.”

            “My husband is one whom the people around here wouldn’t accept.  But they still need a doctor, so we keep it a secret.  Until the new doctor gets here…at least that was the plan.”

            “Only her father and Mr. Smith knew…this killing yesterday.  It was because Troy wants to fight her husband. He must have discovered their secret,” said Father Kat.

            “Oh man! The curiosity is killin’ me!  Who’s this guy?  Ah gotta know!” begged Doug.

            Without answering him, the Doctor addressed another subject, “We’ll leave at 4 o’clock after the funeral.  You’ll need your horses.” Then like a zombie, she walked through the room and out through the front door of the church.  Her eyes were haunted.  Empty.

            They followed her out.  A beautiful horse stood there at the steps of the church.  Once it was watered, well fed and brushed out, Harry’s mount was a magnificent steed.

            “Wing,” said Harry.

            “What’s that?” asked Doug.

            “Hawk’s Wing, it’s the name of my horse.”

            Miss Lena stepped out from behind the horse. She had brought the horse here from her schoolhouse.  “It’s a beautiful name, Harry.  And he’s fine.  Fully recovered from yesterday.  You took better care of him than you did yourself.” She placed her hand on Wing’s head.  The horse nuzzled her hand, just as taken with her as his master was.

            Harry joined her at the bottom step. “I was stupid, I risked both our lives.  I should be the one to pay for it not Wing.”

            “Well you did,” commented Lena as he took the reins from her.  “Oh Harry!  I wish you’d reconsider!”

            “I’m a fighter, Lena.  It’s the only way I know how to live.  This is a battle that must be fought.”

            “But if something should happen to you…” A tear formed in the corner of her eye, but Harry wiped it away before it could run the distance down her cheek.

            “I’ll stop Troy, and bring your students back to you.” He said simply, “Nothing will happen to me.”

            “Teach me to be as strong as you.”

            “You already are.”

The four men followed Doctor Beau out of town at dusk.  The funeral had been moving and well attended by the town.  Father Kat surprised none of the newcomers by giving a touching and poetic benediction.  His words moved tears out of already spent faces.  The fear and unhappiness of this town caused by Troy, hung over it like a cloud.  It was almost palpable.

Doug took it upon himself to try to lighten the mood.  “There’s gonna be songs about us someday!” he asserted.

“Sure,” replied Trent.

“No really, the five heroes save poor helpless Colin Town!”  He grinned.  “Ah can see it now…Doug the hero!”

Trent snickered.

“Don’t like that?  How ‘bout Doug the…Doug the…Hell, Ah need a new name!  Doug just doesn’t sound right.  You ever heard of a hero named Doug?  What was my mother thinkin’?  Hey Harry, can ya think of a name that sounds more heroic?”

“Humph,” came the reply.  “You talk too much, Doug.”

“Aw hell, Ah know it,” agreed Doug, “But you try bein’ a trapper…always alone.  Out in the wood with no one but yer horse to talk to.”

“I sure feel sorry,” commented Trent, “For the horse.”

Harry and the preacher laughed.

            Doctor Beau led them through the scrubs in to a forested area.  It wasn’t long before they noticed the ground was rising, soon the horses could only pass the trail single file.  Finally the ground leveled off, but the trees kept the trail narrow.  It was a few yards into the level terrain that the doctor vanished.  One moment she was there, guiding her horse, Father Kat looked down to adjust something and when he looked back up her horse was empty.  Not a sound had been heard.

            “Here’s where we stop,” Father Kat announced.

            “Gee, where’d she go?  I didn’t see anything,” asked the trapper.

            “How could you see anything?  You were talking Trent’s ear off,” said Harry.

            “What do we do now?” asked Trent.

            “We wait.  He will join us,” said Father Kat.

            “Who?  Come on, one hint!” begged Doug.

            “I gave my oath to God I wouldn’t tell anyone who he is, so you’ll just have to wait.”

            Doctor Beau had been expecting her rapid departure.  She knew her husband wouldn’t trust the men until he’d talked to her.  Still it came as a bit of a shock to be whisked high into the branches of a tree.  And then carried like a squirrel-like several trees away.  The height was dizzying and unpleasant, “Fox!  Stop!” she hissed. He set her on her feet on a wide branch.

            “Who are these men you bring Millie?” demanded the dark shape.

            “Oh Fox!” sighed Doctor Millie Beau too spent for more tears. “Something awful has happened!”  She collapsed against his chest and held him tightly.

            “If they’ve hurt you…” he started.

            “No, not them,” she sobbed.  “Troy.” 

His arms encircled her and pressed her protectively into the soft leather of his shirt.  “Tell me.”

The four men had started a small campfire by the time they were joined by the fifth man.  He stood at the edge of the clearing dressed from head to toe in leather.  His coal black hair was pulled back tightly into a small braid which reach only to the center of his back.  His dark eyes glittered in the light of the fire.  His high cheek bones and dark skin color clearly marked his proud heritage.

The trapper took a step back at the sight of him, “Wailing Fox!  Ah thought you and yer entire Injun tribe had been wiped out?  They don’t even offer rewards as an outlaw for ya anymore!”

“Father Kat,” growled the Indian.  “You are welcome.  Millie has told me why you have come.  I know what you want and what Troy wants.”

“Thank you Wailing Fox,” replied the preacher.  “Won’t you sit so we can discuss it?”

“Your words are useless.  This is an attack on my family and my honor.  I must face him alone.”

“Yes, you must face him, but not alone,” said Father Kat.

“He has attacked and slaughtered my people!  He has learned of my marriage to Millie and he continues to challenge me.  I will accept his challenge.  No more people will have to die.”

   “How can you believe that, Fox?”  The doctor stormed into the clearing.  “If that’s what do I can tell you what will happen, he’ll kill you and me and terrorize the town forever.”

“He would not kill you!  You have done nothing to him,” the Indian cried.

“Neither did my father.  Troy killed him just to get to you. You must join up with these men.  So no one else from our town will ever have to suffer as we have!”

Doug muttered to Trent, “Aren’t they a pair to draw to?”

The preacher addressed the angry Indian, “Don’t you see Wailing Fox?  Troy is not a man of honor.  Your sacrifice will help the town little and would only make a widow out of Doctor Beau.”

The Indian continued to glare at his wife.  But she was as stubborn as he and returned the glare.  Finally, he backed down.

“I will join you,” said the Indian.

“Good,” said Father Kat.

“But why do you wish to come with me?” he asked the four men.

“We all have our reasons,” replied the trapper, “Most of ‘em have to do with women.  Beside Ah don’t think you’d get to him without our help.  He does have an army and a compound don’t forget.”

“Suit yourselves, but I alone will fight him.”

In the morning, the trapper was the first to wake.  Being a trapper meant one tended to rise with the sun.  As he looked about at the sleeping forms, a twinge of guilt racked him.  Perhaps if he hadn’t been so rash, he wouldn’t have gotten this started?  Hilda was worth it, but the plan had leaped from his comfort zone.  He had envisioned sneaking into the compound and cutting off the head, maybe with Harry there to watch his back.  Now there were five men in an all-out assault. Not good.  And he was so much better at sneaking up on his prey.

“You’re quiet this morning,” commented Trent as he sat up.

“Ah know how to do quiet,” The trapper smiled. “Ah just don’t like to do it when I’m with folks.”

“Worried?”

“Naw, Hilda’ll marry me fer sure.”

Trent rolled his eyes and laughed quietly. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Ah know.”  Doug grinned.

 “What do you know about this Indian?”

They both looked over at the bundle of sleeping furs that held the Indian and his wife.

“He shore has interestin’ taste in women,” joked the trapper.

Trent snorted. “Seriously.”

“He’s quite a fighter.  Said to be mean to the bone.  Kills without a second thought.  Standard Injun want-ad line, ‘cept this uns supposed ta never to kill women or kids.  Now that’s funny. If ya ask me.”

“Some mercy then.”

“Naw, you and I could beg ‘til we’re blue in the face and he’d still kill us.  She could slap him and spit in his eye and he’d let her.”

“That is odd.”

The pile of furs moved.  As usual, if you talk about somebody long enough, they’ll wake up.  The Indian pushed aside the top fur to look at them, but he was pinned to the ground by the sleeping form of his wife draped across his chest.

The trapper grinned at him and waved, “Good Mornin’!”

Fox looked down at the sleeping face of his wife and smiled.  Gently he gripped her shoulders as he sat up.  Groggily she took on the rest of the motion and sat up herself.  She smiled at him through bleary eyes.  He gently caressed her cheek, and then hugged her to him again.  It was the gentle action of two people very much in love.  Trent and Doug, in their embarrassment, suddenly found the surrounding trees fascinating to look at.

“The morning would be the best time to attack,” said a quiet voice.

Four pairs of eyes turned to Harry.  When had he woken up and gotten ready?  Were they that engrossed in conversation? 

Doug scratched his head.  “Well, then Ah guess it’s time to wake the preacher!  Anybody know Reveille?”

Trent started singing it, “Da dump de ta dum!”  And then Doug joined in. “Da dump de ta dum da Da dum! Da Da Da Da DA dum…”

“I’ll have you both court marshaled!” came a voice from the last bedroll. “So help me Gawd!”  Father Kat sat up straight glaring, his hair wild and cow licked from sleeping.

The two men laughed out loud at the scene.  Millie hid her face in Fox’s shoulder, her own shoulders shaking with laughter.  Even stoic Harry smiled.

Breakfast was taken care of with efficiency, and soon the five men were reviewing the preacher’s plan.

“This encampment controls the road access to the compound, we are going to have to either skirt it or take it out as quietly as possible.  I’ve never seen less than six men there,” the preacher explained.

“If we do not take them out, we will have an enemy at our back,” Fox pointed out.

“The encampment is a mile away from the main compound, but they do have a fire bell tower.  If even one of the men rings the bell we loose our advantage completely,” Father Kat continued.  “So the four of us sneak in.  We neutralize them. Close range.”

“Bow and arrow?” asked Fox.

“No, we can’t kill them.  You see, this is not just a revenge fight.  This is a rescue mission.”

“For who?” asked Fox.

“Miss Lena’s students,” said Harry.

“Yes, for the past year Troy has been drafting boys from the town.  At first it was persuasion.  They were young and he was able to lure them in for the adventure.  Lately, he’s decreed that all young men must serve in his army.  If they resist, he kills them and their families.”

“If they fight with the enemy, they are my enemy,” said Fox.

“You must understand that these are boys. Scared boys, who don’t think they can fight him.  They all have mothers and brothers and sisters.”

“I don’t kill children,” said Trent.  “No matter what.”

Harry and Doug nodded in agreement.

“You are right,” conceded Fox. “But I will kill any murderer who was at the slaughter of my tribe, no matter how young.”

“These boys were not in that group of men,” said the preacher

“What about me? You said only you four would sneak in?” asked Trent.

“Is that bundle on your horse Greta?”

Everyone but Trent looked puzzled at the question.

“Yes sir!  It is.  I’m amazed at your memory.”

“Greta was just about as legendary as you were Trent.”

“So…” Doug asked. “Greta’s a gun?”

Trent nodded.  “A sniper rifle, custom made for me in Germany.  I was a sharpshooter in the war before I was a sharpshooter in a show.” 

Trent turned back to Father Kat, “I brought my Whitworth rifle too.”

“Whitworth,” repeated Harry. “I’ve shot them before.  Pretty accurate for an English weapon.  Takes bolts, not bullets though.”

“It’s no Greta, but it’s nice to have two loaded rifles.  Just in case,” said Trent.

“We’ll put you here, with your big guns.  Should anyone escape us and make for the bell, you should have a clear shot.” The preacher pointed out a rocky hill.

“Hey, isn’t that a bit far away?” asked the trapper.

“No more than a 1,000 yards.  Greta can make 1,800 if I push it.  She does have a scope,” said Trent.

The trapper whistled in appreciation.

“Doctor Beau, if it’s alright with Fox, I want you with Trent.  He can protect you if need be, but I don’t want to go into battle with out a doctor near by.  Plus we’ll need to find you fast if something should happen.”

The lady nodded. “You couldn’t keep me here if you wanted too.  I know a doctor’s duty in war…plus if you have to shoot one of those boys…”

“Millie can come, if that is what you want Father. I will feel more comfortable with her close by where I can protect her.  But as for having a doctor near by, a warrior should be able to fight through any wounds, not run to a doctor with every scrape,” announced Fox.

“Repeat that statement when you have a bullet in your chest and I’ll be impressed,” replied Millie.

Doug looked at Harry and rolled his eyes.  ‘Interesting’ didn’t begin to describe this couple. 

From a position on the hill, two gun scopes peeked out.  Trent was the one with the sharper eye, but Doug looked anyway, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Trent surveyed the encampment carefully and whispered. “I count eight, most still asleep.  Could be more in the two sheds, but I doubt it.  There’s only eight horses.”

Father Kat nodded. “Alright, let’s go.  And may God protect us in our endeavor.”

“Amen,” said Doug.

“Oh and Father…” Trent added. “They’re all young.  I’d judge not a single one over the age of eighteen.”

“Alright then, that changes things. Since some are still sleeping, I’ll come in the front and distract the boys who are awake.  You three take out the sleepers.  Keep your guard up for any of the bandits.”

“I know how to stop an enemy,” said Fox coldly.  He wielded a long serrated blade.

“Won’t these boys just give up if we ask them?” asked Doug.

“No, they’re brainwashed and scared of Troy.  We won’t kill them, but that won’t stop them from trying to kill us if Troy ordered it.  Especially if the lives of their families are involved.”

“Why should I stay here, then Father?”

“We still need you to stop the bell from ringing.”

“But Father, I can’t aim for anything other than the center of a man if I’m gonna have a chance to hit him.  Especially, a moving target.”

“Trent, there’s more ways to stop the bell from ringing.”

“Of course, sir! Understood.”

Three boys were sitting around a small campfire.  On a grate, a dented coffee pot steamed away.  The morning was crisp and the breath from the three boys misted.

“Good Morning Boys!” came the cheerful voice of the preacher.

They all jumped to their feet.

“Father?  What are you doing here?”

Thump.  Doug clocked one of the sleeping boys and took away the boy’s sidearm.  The three boys, looking at the preacher, heard nothing.

“I’ve come to give those two hanged men a Christian burial,” replied the preacher, as he saw Fox and Harry repeat Doug’s actions to two other sleeping forms behind the boys he was talking to.  Three down…

“But Father, didn’t you know that…”

“Shhh!” hissed one of the boys. “We got orders.”

“Oh yeah.  We’re supposed to kill anyone who comes here.  You shoot him!” replied the tallest boy.

“I don’t wanna shoot ‘em,” cried the third boy.

“I don’t wanna answer to the Cap’n if we don’t follow orders do you?” asked the boy.  Behind him, Harry was sneaking up on the last two sleeping forms.

“I’m sorry about this Father.”  The second boy drew his weapon and then paused. “Come on!” he hissed.  The other two drew their weapons as well.  They all pointed them at the preacher.

Splash!  A bucket of water drenched the three boys’ arms, hands and guns.

“What!” cried one of them and they all looked in the direction the water came from.

“Tsk Tsk!  Seems you boys let yer powder get soggy!” said Doug, “You should take better care of yer firearms!”

The three boys tried to shoot Doug, but their guns did nothing but click.

“See?  What’d I tell ya?”  Doug stepped up to the first boy and dropped him with an efficient punch to the head.

Father Kat landed the next punch, bringing down the second boy.  However, the third was able to let out a yell and turned for the bell.  The two remaining sleepers that Harry was sneaking up on sat up in alarm.  As they reach for their guns, Harry grabbed each of them by the head and smacked the heads together.

Wailing Fox was after the running boy.  But the young lad was scared and quick.  As he ran for the bell, a single distant shot was heard.  With a puff of dust the bell rope flopped to the ground as the boy reached it, cut neatly by a bullet from Greta.  A second later, Fox was on the boy and he was also rendered unconscious.

Fox grunted in satisfaction, picked the boy up and slung him over his shoulder. “My dear departed tribe and family, I hope we will fight a worthier battle next time.”  The stoic warrior turned back and rejoined the men who were collecting the boy’s weapons.

“Something’s not right,” said Father Kat.  “Why would there be nothing but boys at this encampment?”

“You’re right.  It’s not a very good plan,” agreed Harry.

“I think he must want us to come to the compound,” said Father Kat.

“He has been wanting me to fight him for a long time,” said Fox as he walked back into the encampment.

“It still doesn’t make sense,” worried the preacher. “Best tie these boys up.  Turn those horses loose and make sure the area is clear of guns and other weapons.”

As Fox carried the boy passed the door of the first shack, the door burst open.  A large man with a scar running from temple to chin stood there, gun coming to bear on the first person he saw.  With a swift motion, Fox threw a knife.  It stuck the man in the gut, but did not stop him from raising his gun.  He fired.  Harry pulled his gun in one swift motion placed a bullet in the head of the man.

“Is anyone hurt?” asked the preacher.

“He didn’t hit me,” replied Fox. “But…” He set the boy down and started feeling him for blood.

The boy sat up and screamed, “My leg! My leg! Father! Help me.  Why did you shoot me?”

“Get the…” the preacher started to say but Doug was already on a horse heading back toward the sniper’s hill.

Trent had watched all of this from his scope.  He alerted Doctor Beau, who ran out to meet Doug and soon the two of them were racing back to the boy.  Trent gathered up the guns and horses and joined the rest at the encampment.   The doctor was just finishing her examination.

“It’s a clean shot to his calf.  Just scratched the surface, didn’t go in. He’s a lucky boy,” said the doctor as she fashion a bandage around the boy’s leg.

Fox stood with his back to the group. “These men have no honor!  To shoot at me while I was holding one of their own!  They must be the slyest and most evil enemy I’ve ever faced.  Pigs!”

“Father!” cried the boy.  “Don’t go to the compound!”

“We have to, son; or you’ll never be free to go back to your families.”

“But he’s not there father.”

“Tell us where he’s gone, son.”

“The compound is empty and wired with bombs, Father.  He went back to town to hang…” the boy gulped and looked at the doctor, “to hang her…Doctor Beau.  For treason he said, and he’s gonna fight some guy named Fox.”

Fox spun about, “Millie!”

“If he can’t hang me, what do you think he’ll do?” Millie asked the preacher.

“There’s no one else connected to Fox in the town,” replied Father Kat.  “He’d need someone he could label with treason…someone who might have been thought to be helping us.”

“Miss Lena!” cried Harry.

“My sister!” added Trent.

“You don’t think he’d go after my Hilda do ya?” asked Doug.

“I think Miss Lena is the most likely bet,” said the preacher.  “Wait!  Harry!”

But the gunfighter was already on his mount.  In a cloud of dust and flying sod, Harry galloped away.

“Go with him!” cried Father Kat. “The doctor and I will bring the boy in.”

Trent and Doug quickly mounted their horses and were off.  But Fox paused; he looked at his wife, torn.

“I’ll take good care of her, Fox,” the preacher assured him. “Go on now.  It’s you Troy wants.”

Fox roughly grabbed his wife to him in a hug.  “Millie,” he said, with feeling.

“I know, Fox,” his wife answered his unspoken question. “Go now, I’ll be waiting for you.  Come back to me.”

Without another word the Indian mounted his horse and galloped off in pursuit of the disappearing figures.

The three men were already at the edge of town surveying the problem when Fox joined them.  Captain Troy sat on a horse in the middle of town.  He was surrounded by a little over a dozen of his men, and a noose hung from a nearby tree.  Doug quickly whispered the facts to the Indian.  Harry remained up front, watching from around the corner of the building.

“He is fixing to hang someone,” whispered Trent. “They’ve got it all set up with the town all lined up to watch.  But they seem to be waiting for something.”

“He has his men placed on rooftops all around the center of town.” Harry pointed them out.

“Figures,” remarked Doug. “Why can’t bad guys be more original?”

From the window of the tavern, Harry realized they were being watched.  It took him a second to place the face.  “We’ve been spotted.”

“By who?” ask Doug hunching down and drawing his gun.

“Trent, is that your sister?”

“If it is, we have our advantage.  Here let me see.”  Trent switched places with Harry at the edge of the building.  “It’s her.”  He quickly made a few gestures towards the figure in the window.  “She says there’s two inside the building.  She’ll wait five minutes and then take them down.  We should sneak around and enter through the back.”

“Yer sister can do that?” asked Doug.

“You’ve seen her with a knife, right?”

“Oh yeah.”

The four men quietly skirted the outer buildings to approach the tavern from the back.  Trent led the way into the tavern, his weapon drawn.  He found his sister standing over the drugged bodies of two bandits.  She was cleaning the blades of two dart-sized knives.

“Trent!  I put enough in them to drop a horse.  We’re safe; they’ll be out for hours.”  She stepped to her brother, hugging him.  “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“Kate,” he returned her hug.  “What’s the situation?”

“Troy rode in about a half-hour ago with his men.  He placed his men all about the town.  Got all the townfolk out in the square.  I hid.  He was looking for the doctor at first, but then he sent men to the school to bring in the teacher.  He declared she was a traitor to the town and he was going to hang her.”

“Father Kat was right,” said Doug.

Harry slid along the west wall until he could look out the window.  “Looks like a good spot, I can see at least a dozen targets from this window.  The towns people are far enough away from the hanging noose, we shouldn’t hit them.”

“Lookie,” cried Doug, who had slid to the window on his belly to get a look.  “Ah see three of ‘em and they’ve got Miss Lena!”

Three men rode into town leading a horse with the scared teacher.  Her hands were securely tied behind her back.  They rode up to the noose and began to secure it around her neck, while Captain Troy began his speech to the town.

“We’ll have to get the teacher out first.  Harry, you’re the right size.  Come try on this bandit’s hat and duster.” Trent started to remove the items from one of the fallen bodies.

“Eww, yer gonna wear those things?” asked Doug.

“Obviously, you non-showman types don’t understand the value of a good costume,” said Trent. “With this, you can walk right into the middle of them.  I shoot out the rope and you bring her out in the confusion.  Doug and Fox can keep ‘em running by shooting at their heels.”

“I will shoot more than their heels,” said Fox.

“Fine. It’ll still work,” said Trent.

“I’ll give it a try,” said Harry.

“Man, that’s askin’ fer it, walkin’ into the middle of them like that!” said Doug as Harry shrugged on the duster.

“Hey, believe me,” said Trent. “I disguise myself all the time.  They won’t even see him.”

Trent put the hat onto Harry’s head.  “Pull it low, that’s right.  Raise the collar a bit, not too much.  Alright, you got two minutes to get to her side.”

“Fine,” said Harry.  He then added, “Don’t miss.”

“Don’t worry, I got practice shooting ropes today.” Trent smiled.

Harry walked casually into the crowd of bandits; as Doug, Trent and Fox took places along the wall of the tavern. 

Trent checked Greta over carefully.  Come on darlin’ don’t let me down, he silently told his gun.

Just as the showman predicted, the costume let Harry walk right through the crowd of bandits.  The sneering speech of the Captain up front was helping as well.  As Harry neared Miss Lena’s side, he could hear the words.

“She has conspired with a wanted criminal, the evil Injun Wailing Fox, who is attacking my compound as we speak…”

As Troy’s speech droned on, Harry quietly stepped up to the horse Miss Lena sat upon.  He placed a hand on the teacher’s knee.  She looked down at him just as Greta the German sniper rifle cut her free.   Turmoil erupted in the square.  Bullets flew from the tavern.  Bandits began running everywhere.  The town’s people, who were in one group up the street, disappeared into doors and alleyways. 

“Harry!” Miss Lena shouted.  Seeing she was cut free, she dove from the horse into Harry’s arms.

Only the bandit nearest Miss Lena recognized Harry as an imposter. He lunged at Harry. 

Harry dodged the man’s attack and threw Miss Lena over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.  With one arm free, he punched the grasping bandit in the face.  The man staggered back and tripped over another fleeing bandit.  Harry turned and walked with her around the horse, only to come face to face with Captain Troy.

“You!” ordered the Captain loudly, pointing at Harry.  “Get that woman inside a building, and don’t let her out of your sight.  We’ll hang her later.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Harry with a smirk. What do you know? Trent’s disguise really worked.  He’d have to remember that for the future.  Harry ran around for the tavern’s back door, as bullets were flying out the front.  He met Kate in the back room.  She was loading a gun. 

He set the teacher on her feet. He cut the rope from her hands behind her back.  He spun her about and hugged her quickly.

“Oh Harry!” she exclaimed.

“No time,” he said. “Do you know how to load a gun?”

“Yes…I…”

“Good, help her.”  He left Miss Lena with Kate and crawled out on his belly to the wall where the other men were still shooting.  When he reached Trent’s side he asked, “What’s the tally?”

“We took six down with that first volley.  Greta’s knocked two down off the roof.” Trent poured powder down Greta’s throat, “She’s got two more good targets before I switch weapons.  We’ll be at the standoff point soon.” 

He positioned a percussion cap and brought his weapon to bear.  Harry watched the man focus, breath in from his nose, hold it and shoot.  A man fell from a nearby roof.  Trent looked pleased.  “See if you can’t get the one in the stables, Harry.”  Already, Trent had Greta half loaded again.

Harry turned and watched the stables.  He counted the heartbeats between the time the man looked out and fired.  One, two, three, shoot; one, two, three, shoot—a pattern.  Harry counted two and shot at the door.  He caught the man in the chest.

Greta discharged behind him.  “Got him,” cried Trent. “Anyone else got a target?”

Harry scanned, “No.”

Doug said, “No.”

Fox shook his head.

“So now we wait,” stated Trent.

“For what?” asked Fox.

“For the Captain to call you out,” explained Trent.

“Why would he risk death like that?” asked Fox

“Because that’s how it’s done,” said Harry. “I’m going to check the back.”

“White men!” sighed Fox.

Harry slid to the back room, just as Kate poked her head around the door frame.

“Doug!” she hissed.

Doug looked her direction.  She put one of his guns in a wooden box and slid it across the floor to him.  So that’s how they did it, Harry thought.  He slid around the corner and stood up in the back room.

“Harry?” Miss Lena held out a hand for his gun, she had a powder horn in the other.

“No,” he said. “I only fired one shot.”

She nodded.

He walked over to the back door, and opened it a crack.  He spotted three bandits coming round to flank them.  No, make that two bandits and little Jonathan.  This was not going to be easy…

Harry flashed three fingers at the women and gestured for them to take cover.  Miss Lena and Kate obliged by huddling close together in the V of the kitchen counters.

Harry waited, his hand on the doorknob.  Hold it.  Wait.  There!  Someone grasped the knob from the other side.  Harry threw the door open with a pull strong enough to send one bandit sprawling into the kitchen.  Harry spun and shot the man who was standing behind the first.  The man toppled back onto young Jonathan.  Harry turned to the man on the kitchen floor, but found Kate had already drugged the man with one of her small knives.  Harry turned his attention to the boy, who was frantically scurrying out from underneath the bandit’s body.

“Get in here, son,” Harry called.  The boy didn’t need to be asked twice.  He rushed inside and right into Miss Lena’s arms.

“Oh, Jonathan!  Oh. It’s alright!” said the teacher to her distraught student. 

Harry looked on with a funny look in his eyes.  Lena had to be the nicest teacher he’d ever met.  She loved her students, as if they were her own.  She’d have beautiful children. Harry shook his head to banish the thought. Not now! Focus! He ordered himself.

Trent, Doug and Fox lay on the floor, listening to the silence of the street.  Now the waiting game commenced.

“What if I called for him?” asked Fox.

“No, he has the upper hand.  You gotta get his word on a fair fight, otherwise the men on this roof will shoot you,” said Trent.

“In the back?” asked Fox.

“You said yourself that they had no honor.”

“Why should I trust Troy to keep his word in this fight?”

“Because people will be watching.  No man publicly smears his own honor.”

“False honor, to hide a black heart!” The Indian sneered.

“I agree with you there,” said Trent.

A voice echoed through the street.  “Cut-throat Injun Wailing Fox, I am calling you out!”  The voice was unmistakably the Captain’s.

Fox started to rise.

“Wait!” hissed Trent. “Ask him if he’ll fight you fairly.”

“Murderer Troy Reynolds, will you fight me fairly as a man of honor?  Or like a coward, will you let your men shoot me in the back?” yelled Fox.

“I give you my word as a gentleman.  As long as I live, none of my men will harm you in this duel,” returned Troy’s confident voice.

“What does that mean,” hissed Fox.

“It means, once you kill him, we got to get you out quick,” said Trent. “Doug?”

The trapper grinned. “I’m gone.  Just make sure ya kill him.”  He started to crawl to the back room.

Fox nodded. “Thank you my friend.”

Trent nodded.

“I accept your word,” shouted Fox.

Fox stood and slowly walked out the swinging doors.  Troy already stood in the center of the street, his coat pulled back to revel his sidearm.  He stood casually, a man confident he would walk away from this; a half-smile curving up one side of his face.

“It has been a long time, Injun,” said Captain Troy, hate smearing his words. “You have made me regret ever leaving you alive.”

“Murderer Troy, you talk too much,” replied the brave Indian, his eyes echoing hate as well.

“I had wanted to hang your lovely wife up as payment for what you did to mine, but no matter.  I’ll kill her after I kill you.”

“Your wife wore the pants of a man.  She ruthlessly tortured and killed my people as you made me watch. It did not make me happy to kill her, but such a demon must not live.”

“Injun!  You lie!  You will pay for your sins today as you burn in hell!”

“Enough talk,” Fox replied calmly as he reached the middle of the street and turned to face his enemy.

Their hands floated over the handles of their pistols.  The street was perfectly quiet.  A gentle wind stirred the dust between them.  Neither moved, their eyes locked in a dance of hate.  Then as if synchronized, the guns were out and the thunderously loud sound of gunfire spilt the air.

Fox felt something whistle past the sleeve of his shirt, but he was too intent on the other man to look.  Captain Troy was spun around by the force of a bullet, hitting him somewhere on his left side.  Fox couldn’t tell where.  In a blind rage the Captain discharged the rest of his bullets at Fox.  None came so close as the first.  Fox cocked his weapon and shot again.  This bullet also hit.  Fox guessed it was an arm hit.  The force was enough to send the unstable man sprawling.

In a cloud of dust, the Captain was on the ground.  Fox stood there, numbly watching.  The man couldn’t be dead, could he?  In the back of his mind, Fox thought he heard hoof beats.  All the bandits needed was for the Captain to go down and they would feel free to shoot. 

Jolted into action by the noise of gunfire, Fox dove and rolled to one side of the street.  From behind him, Doug rode up, his hand out-stretched.  In one fluid movement the Indian was behind him and the two men rode for cover in the outskirts of town.

All the while, one thought consumed Fox.  Neither of his shots was lethal.  He was sure of it.

Meanwhile, Harry and Trent had managed to sneak around to the other side of the street, taking out three more of the bandits.  They saw the sheriff, Tex Martin, grab the Captain’s limp body and throw it over a horse.  They only counted six bandits leave the town, including the Captain and the sheriff.  Although Harry and Trent did their best to shoot the departing bandits, they swiftly disappeared.  The Captain’s death was left unconfirmed.

Epilogue

Harry and Fox stood at the door of the dance hall looking out into the night; the silence a mutual comfort between them.  The Indian was dressed in a suit for the occasion.  One arm of the coat hung limply as the arm that should have filled it was instead in a sling.  Fox reviewed the day of the gunfight over and over in his mind trying to see if he missed any clue to the condition of the Captain as the bandit escaped.  His view from Doug’s horse wasn’t the best, and neither Harry nor Trent had been able to see much from their vantage points.

“What troubles you Fox?” said a voice from behind them.

“I just wish we were sure of his death!  I feel as though I have failed, Father Kat!”

“Ah, I see,” said the gentle preacher.  “Well, let’s look at the facts, shall we?  The man had to survive two gunshot wounds—and I can get the good doctor, your wife, over here to tell you the chances of that.  But let’s just say he did.  He has five men, and no compound.  Doctor Beau and I took the liberty of setting off those bombs he left for us.”

“It is good that you did, but I am not pleased you risked her so.”

“Regardless, the fact remains that he has no compound. And as far as we could count, he had only five men remaining. However, this town has its boys back; who’ll grow into strong men hating Captain Troy.  Should he come back here, he’ll not only find you and me; but also Doug, who by this wedding tonight is a permanent resident.  Between the three of us and the wrath of the boys he threaten and intimidated, my dear friend, the poor man hasn’t a chance!  His strength is toppled, and he won’t easily build it back.  This town is safe.  We were successful!”

Harry grunted in agreement and pulled at the uncomfortable collar of his borrowed suit.

“And what troubles you, Harry?” asked the perceptive Father Kat.

“I’ve stayed in this town too long,” Harry growled.

“Well, it was nice of you to stay and stand up for Doug at the wedding,” the preacher smiled. “But I’m thinking it’s not cabin fever that has you scared.  You’re feeling the threat of your own gun being hung up on the wall.”  The three men turned and looked to the dance floor where Miss Lena was dancing with one of her young students.

Harry shuddered, “She deserves better than a gunfighter.”  He looked away.

“That’s what you’re head keeps telling you.  What does your heart say?”

“Stay,” whispered Harry.  He looked down, shamefaced.

“I’m going to give you my standard advice as a preacher.  When God was confused like you are now, he went into the wilderness and found his answers.”

“Father?”

“There’s plenty of time son.  Take Doug up on his offer and go trap for him for six months.  I promise you, after six months of time alone with the wilderness and God, things will look a whole lot clearer.”

Harry looked at the preacher for a few moments, and then nodded.  “I’ll do that, Father.”

            “Good then!  Nothing for either of you to stand out in the cold for!” The preacher clapped his hands together. “Shall we crack open another cask of Doug’s fine whisky?”

            Together, the three men turned and entered the hall.