Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Parson Sam Blane in HOPE (Episode 10)


XXXVII.

Royce Lee remained calm and stood perfectly still. Although the two men in the street facing him were in dim light, he could clearly see the first man’s eyes. Lee had already picked him as the first he would have to kill. The second man, he calculated, was merely a follower and probably much slower on the draw.

Lee had faced down other men in gunfights. The first time, he was terrified—and relieved when he saw the other man fall. The second time, he walked away with much more confidence. He had proven to himself he could hold his own, and that the first time had not been a fluke. After he had killed his third man in a gunfight, he had become familiar enough with the situation to make him more dangerous than most other men alive. He still felt jitters in his stomach. But he had learned to channel the nervous tension into lightning speed and deadly accuracy.

Lee had never sought out a face-to-face showdown. But, like a bad dream, he still found himself in the middle of one from time to time. His style normally hinged on stealth and surprise. In a gunfight, on the other hand, the odds were much too even—and anything could go wrong.

Over time, however, he had come to accept the fact that the occasional nightmarish gunfight was simply a symptom of the kind of man he was.

A warm breeze floated in from the southwest, carrying away the stench of stale liquor that had hung in the air outside of the saloon. The low humidity had dried Lee’s throat more than usual and his tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of his mouth. All the while however he kept his attention focused on the first man’s eyes.

Then something poked him in the back. “Hey, what’s going on here?”

A man exiting the saloon had swung the door partially open until it had struck Lee in the back. Keeping his gaze steady on the steely eyes of the man in the street and his right hand ready near his gun, Lee quickly sidestepped to his right. When the man stepped out of the saloon Lee grabbed him by the arm. Without turning his head, Lee asked, “What’s your name?”

“Bill Townsend.”

“Step away, Bill. Watch what’s gonna happen here. You’re my witness.”

Meanwhile a second man who had been exiting the saloon saw Lee facing the two men in the street. He turned back into the room and yelled, “Gunfight!”

The saloon erupted into a roar of sheer panic as men scattered everywhere. Those at the bar dashed toward the center of the room to escape the line of fire. Those in the center and at the rear of the room rushed to the window and drew back the curtains so they could witness the spectacle.

Lee heard the commotion inside the saloon but he did not allow it to distract him. When a solemn hush finally fell upon those in the saloon, he spoke in a calm voice to the men in the street. “If you two are determined to make this the night you die, I’ll oblige you. The best I can do is promise to put a bullet in each of you that will kill you quick. No use you laying in the street suffering.”

“That’s some pretty big talk when there’s two of us and only one of you,” the first man grunted.

“I’ve given you fair warning.”

The second man in the street glanced at the first and whispered, “I don’t like this, Jim. I got a feeling he ain’t bluffin’.”

“Don’t worry, little brother, I can take him.”

“You’re fast, Jim. Everybody knows that. But we don’t know anything about this fella.”

“You’re not turning yellow on me, are you?”

“Aw, Jim. You know me better than that. I’m just telling you I got a bad feelin’ about this guy.”

“He made a fool out of me in the restaurant. I can’t let that go. Now you follow my lead. When I draw, you draw too.”

Lee stood unruffled. He knew the two men were talking between themselves but they spoke in whispers so that he could only distinguish a word now and then. Still, he knew that talk, rather than action, was a sign of doubt. When the men finally stopped whispering, however, he knew the moment of truth had grown closer.

“It’s not too late to walk away from this.” Lee’s tone was matter-of-fact.

“We ain’t walking away, stranger.”

“Well then, whenever you’re ready.”

Lee knew that one of the unwritten laws in a gunfight is to detect precisely when one’s opponent makes his move to draw and shoot. Because the hand is quicker than the eye, Lee never focused on his opponent’s hand. Instead he focused on the man’s eyes and then watched the man’s hand with peripheral vision. Because the delicate muscles around the eye are particularly sensitive to stress, the eyes always had a way of communicating the moment a man went for his gun. A squint, a blink, a quiver—any kind of change―was all Lee needed to detect before he himself drew and fired.

Each man is the sum total of his experiences. He tends to repeat behaviors that reward him, and eliminate behaviors that penalize him. As a result, Lee had created a rule for himself: Never make the first move in a gunfight. Yet, waiting for an enemy to go for his gun could be nerve-racking. To counter negative thoughts Lee had tried in the past to not think at all, but he had found that impossible. What worked instead was to repeat in his mind: “Smooth and easy, smooth and easy, smooth and easy.” Lee had learned that repeating the words kept his mind calm, and when the moment of truth finally came, a calm mind was his most effective weapon.

Not only did Lee never make the first move in a gunfight, but he waited long enough not to give the appearance he had made the first move. He always wanted onlookers convinced of the truth that he had acted in self-defense. Why? Not because he fancied himself some kind of hero. Not because he held some noble notion to give his enemy a slight advantage. And certainly not because he wanted to be fair. Rather, for purely selfish reasons, he wanted onlookers to testify to local authorities that he had acted strictly in self-defense.

For Lee, killing a resistant outlaw on the trail with no witnesses was a straight-forward perfunctory task. But in a town with many onlookers, killing a man who was probably liked by some of the citizens, and loved by his family, was a sure path to trouble with the law.

But now he was trapped. The two men in the street were not going to let him walk away. In the back of his mind he loathed the idea of wasted time tangled up with the law. Additionally there was the matter of Miles Stayton. Even now, as Lee stood outside of a saloon in a town where he had only wanted to buy a pair of boots and a hat, eat a steak, and purchase a horse, Miles Stayton was getting away. And Lee had a big score to settle with Miles Stayton.

“Smooth and easy, smooth and easy, smooth and easy.”

Then the very slightest blink! But Lee saw it in slow motion as if a giant rain cloud had momentarily eclipsed the bright rays of the sun. Simultaneously the man’s hand flashed to his gun. The man’s pistol had cleared leather and was almost level when Lee’s bullet struck him hard in the chest. The impact lifted the man’s feet off the ground and violently thrust him backwards until he landed flat in the dust with a sickening thud.

Instantly Lee trained the pistol on the second man in the street. He fanned the hammer with the meaty part of his left palm. At that moment, two events happened at the same time. First, the gun did not fire. Second, he saw the man lifting his hands in the air.

“Don’t shoot!” the man cried in a shaky voice.

Lee straightened and pulled in his chin. His gun had misfired. The river water must have penetrated the cartridge. He wondered whether the next bullet would fire or not. He also wondered if the man in the street had realized the gun had misfired.

“Keep your right hand in the air. With your left hand reach down, unbuckle your gun belt, and let it fall.” As Lee gave the command he pulled the hammer all the way back into the firing position and held his aim steady on the man.

“Okay mister. Only don’t shoot!”

Lee watched the man carefully. The man’s words and tone of voice indicated he would comply. But would he?

The man slowly lowered his left arm until his hand was near the buckle.

“Don’t do anything foolish.”

“What’s the matter, mister? Your gun won’t fire?”

“I wouldn’t bet my life on it. Now unbuckle the belt.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

The man’s right hand dropped quickly to his gun and he drew it out of the holster.

With only a split second to react Lee squeezed the trigger. Again the gun did not fire. He quickly fanned the hammer. Nothing. Desperately and with lightning speed Lee fanned the hammer again.

The bullet fired and hit its mark just in time. As the man in the street doubled over, he pulled the trigger on his gun and the bullet penetrated the dirt, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Then the man collapsed to the ground.

XXXVIII.

When Lee heard a gentle knock, he stepped to the door and opened it.

Elijah stepped back when he saw the gun in Lee’s hand. “You ready, Mr. Lee?”

Lee holstered the pistol. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Lee and Elijah walked down the stairs. When they reached the lobby the man who had rented them the rooms stood up behind the counter. He pointed at the clock on the wall. “You were supposed to be out first thing this morning. It’s nearly nine o’clock!”

Neither Lee nor Elijah responded. Without missing a step they walked through the lobby and out the front door.

When Lee saw the three horses that Vince Hackett had tied to the hitching rail he raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Whoa,” he muttered. “Looks like we did get a steal.”

Lee did not have to guess which horse was his. His was the sorrel. The mettle in the beast’s eyes and the way the horse watched him, combined with the lean muscular body, told Lee this indeed was a fine animal. He confidently approached and gently said, “Easy, big fella.” He placed a firm hand on the horse’s neck and patted him several times. He walked around the horse and stopped in front of him. Then he parted the animal’s lips and checked the teeth. He figured the horse was about four or five years old.

“Where’s Moses?”

“Elijah, I need to talk to you.”

“Alright, Mr. Lee. But what did you do with Moses and what are these two extra horses for?”

“Elijah, I don’t know how to say this right. But Moses is going to be taken good care of for as long as he lives―which we both know won’t be for too much longer. From now on, you got yourself a darn fine trail horse and also a pack animal to carry the supplies we’re gonna buy this morning.”

“But I loved Moses. He and I were best friends.”

Lee watched tears come to Elijah’s eyes. “Darn it man, let me give you a good dose of reality. First of all, I don’t know how you’ve lasted this long without being lynched. They got whole organizations of racist white folks who would love to catch you alone on the trail, just so they can hang you. Besides, you’re going about trying to find your family all wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean wandering around in the South is gonna get you killed. You’ve seen how these people treat you. There’s a way to find your family, but it’s not the way you’ve been going at it. Now I suggest we get you some supplies for the trail and that you head north in a hurry and stay up there. Before we leave town I’m gonna show you precisely how to find your family. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Lee. I want that more than anything.”

“Okay then. You’re gonna have to trust I know what I’m talking about. Vince Hackett, who sold us these horses, took Moses. I paid him to do it and Hackett will take good care of your old friend. That should put your mind at ease. Now mount up. Let’s find us a gun shop and a general store.”

After Elijah swung up into the saddle, he glanced at Lee. “But Mr. Lee, don’t you think you should have asked me before you took Moses?”

“Would’ve you let me take him?”

Elijah shook his head. “No!”

“Now you know why I didn’t ask.”

XXXIX.

The gunsmith inhaled a short draw of cigarette smoke and blew it out his nose. “Yes sir. We got the new Peacemaker.”

“I’ll take one.” Lee withdrew the pistol from his holster and set it on the counter. “Will you take a few dollars off if I give you this as a trade-in?”

The gunsmith glanced at Lee’s gun. “I’ve got no use for that.”

“Neither do I. It’s been soaked in the river along with the cartridges. Take it and do whatever you want with it. A good oiling should fix it up but I could never trust it again. You also need to reload all the cartridges with fresh powder.”

The gunsmith withdrew a new Colt .45 Peacemaker from a glass case and set it on the counter. “Now this is a fine weapon.”

“That is nice. I’ll take two of ‘em.”

“You want two?”

“You’re right. Make it three.”

Three? But they’re fifteen dollars a piece! And three’s all I got in stock.”

“Now you’ll be able to order more. And I’ll take three, no five, boxes of cartridges.”

“What are you planning to do, mister? Start a war?”

“The war’s already started. And I lost the first battle. I don’t plan on losing any more. Reach up there and hand me that belt with the two holsters.”

Lee unbuckled his own gun belt and set it on the counter. He pulled the cartridges out of the loops and replaced them with the .45 caliber cartridges from one of the boxes the gunsmith had set on the counter. When the gunsmith placed the new holster on the counter, Lee filled all of those loops as well. Then he loaded all three Colts with five cartridges each, being careful to leave an empty chamber beneath the firing pin. He withdrew the few remaining cartridges in the box and stuffed them into his pocket. “Better give me two more boxes.”

“I’ve only got one more box of .45s, mister. You’re cleaning me out!”

“Alright, give me one more box.” Lee pointed to the rifle rack. “I’ll take two of those. They’re the new Winchester ‘73s, aren’t they?”

“Yes sir, they sure are.”

“Good. Give me a couple of scabbards for them too. Also I need a scatter gun. Twelve gauge with short double barrels. And ammo for it and the Winchesters. Give me two cleaning kits for the pistols and two for the rifles.”

After the gunsmith set the rifles and shotgun on the counter, Lee immediately loaded them to full capacity.

When the gunsmith totaled the amount Lee pulled the wad of bills from his pocket and paid the man. Then he strapped on the gun belt and slid a .45 into each holster. When he picked up his old gun belt he slid the third .45 into the holster. After he picked up the rifles, the shotgun, the boxes of cartridges, and the cleaning kits, he turned to walk out.

The gunsmith hurried around the counter and scurried to open the door for Lee whose arms were full. “Thank you mister. I’d say you’re loaded for bear.”

“Not for bear. Something much more dangerous.”

Lee walked out onto the sidewalk and stepped down into the street. He strapped one scabbard holding a Winchester onto his saddle and placed two of the cleaning kits along with several boxes of ammunition into a saddlebag. Then he strapped the other rifle scabbard onto Elijah’s saddle. He took a piece of rope and tied the shotgun to Elijah’s saddle horn. Then he placed the other cleaning kits and the remaining boxes of cartridges into one of Elijah’s saddlebags.

Elijah, sitting in the saddle, watched with incredulity as Lee methodically tended to business.

Finally Lee held the single-holster gun belt up to Elijah. “Here. Put this on.”

“Oh Mr. Lee, I don’t wear a gun.”

“Start.”

“But I don’t rightly know how to shoot.”

“Learn and learn quick. I gave you plenty of bullets for practice. Practice Elijah. Practice as if your life depended on it. Odds are it does.”

XL.

It was almost noon when Lee and Elijah finished strapping the array of supplies that Lee had purchased from the general store onto the pack horse.

“Mr. Lee, I’m startin’ to feel real guilty. You’ve spent a whole lot of money on me, starting with that steak dinner. And I’ve never spent a night in a hotel, much less in one that has a bed I’d like to sleep a week in. These horses must have cost a fortune and you also paid Mr. Hackett to look after Moses for the rest of his days. Why even that cook in the restaurant said Mr. Hackett has the nicest spread around. The guns—well, you believe they’re necessary. And when I think about it seriously, the Lord holds no grudge against a man defending himself. But these supplies. It’s just getting to be too much. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate everything somethin’ fierce. But there’s no way I can begin to repay you. Mercy me, I doubt I could repay you if I turned over every nickel I made from now until the Lord takes me home.”

“Quit talking foolish, Elijah. I got more money than I know what to do with, and I got nothing better to spend it on. The money I used last night and today will barely make a dent.” Lee paused a moment and then smiled. “Since you’re in so good with the Lord, maybe He’ll count what I’ve done as a good deed.”

“Are you a Christian, Mr. Lee?”

“Not at all.”

“Then I’m sorry to tell you this, but the Lord can’t count anything you do as a good deed. It doesn’t matter how good it looks in the eyes of men.”

“What do you mean? People do good things all the time. When you pulled me out of the river, that was a good deed, wasn’t it?”

“Yes sir. The Lord will surely count that in my favor.”

“Well then what’s the difference?”

“Can I talk plain, Mr. Lee?”

“Of course. Talk straight, Elijah.”

“The Lord only counts deeds as good when they’re done for the right reason—and there’s only one right reason. That’s to glorify the Lord.”

“What do you mean ‘glorify’?”

“It means doing things that honor the Lord. When you sin, you dishonor the Lord. So you don’t sin, as much as humanly possible anyway. Instead you obey His Word.

“You do things to help your neighbor. After all, God created your neighbor, even your enemies, just like He created you. If your neighbor asks, you share about what Jesus has done for you. Whenever you serve others, you serve the Lord.

“Spending time with the Lord in thankful prayer is another way to honor Him. You also glorify the Lord when you give Him proper credit for the good things He provides. When you take personal credit for your gifts, you rob the Lord of what is rightfully His and you’re forgetting He gave them to you in the first place.”

“But the Lord has nothing to do with what I’ve done.”

“That’s right, Mr. Lee, and it’s a shame. When a person doesn’t believe, he does things mostly to please himself. A man can help another man and that’s a good thing as far as men understand. But the Lord knows when you’re doing something for yourself and when you’re doing something for Him. What you do is only a good deed when you do it for the Lord. That kinda leaves you out if you’re not one of His children.”

“Well, I don’t believe in that stuff anyway. It makes no difference to me if the Lord counts it good or bad.”

“I’m right sorry to hear you say that, Mr. Lee, because you’re missing the most important part.”

“What’s that?”

“When it’s time to die you’ll be glad you’re a believer sure enough. But believing and obeying the Lord is also the absolute best way to live.”

“Yeah well, all this talk is wasting time. I want to get out of this town pronto. Come on, let’s go.”

“What’s your hurry?”

“I’m expecting the sheriff to pay me a visit. And that can only mean trouble. But we got one more stop to make.”

“Okay, Mr. Lee, but please think about what I said. Ask yourself if you’re happy with the life you’re living. When you admit you’re not, I hope you’ll get down on your knees and ask the Lord to save you. Then you’ll know what true life is.”

“Yeah, well, maybe some day. For now, let’s get going.”

The men mounted up and rode along the street until they came to a sign that read Pine Bluff Weekly Herald.

“What’s this?” Elijah asked.

“It’s the best way to find your family.”

“You mean, read the newspaper?”

“Let’s go in. I’ll show you what I mean.”

XLI.

When Lee and Elijah entered the newspaper office, a man leaning over a printing press glanced up. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

Lee noticed an awkward curl to the man’s mouth when his gaze shifted to Elijah. Lee fully expected the man to say Elijah was not allowed in the office. Before the man could speak however Lee said, “We want to place an advertisement.”

The man straightened up and walked to the desk in the front of the room. He sat down and withdrew a piece of paper from a drawer. Then he picked up a pencil and held it over the paper. “Okay, what do you want the ad to say?”

Lee stepped forward. “Say: Two hundred dollar reward for information leading to the whereabouts of—” Lee looked at Elijah. “What’s their names?”

“Minervy and Nelly and Lucy Ward.”

Lee pointed to the paper. “Write that.”

The man looked up. “Okay. Who’s gonna hold the reward money?”

“Can you hold it?”

“Yes, I suppose I could. I’ll say in the ad that whoever has the information should contact this office. Where are you staying so I can contact you?”

“Elijah here will have to telegraph you now and then. He doesn’t stay in any one place. Now I want that advertisement in your paper and in other newspapers.”

“What other newspapers?”

“All across the country.”

“All across the country? How about we put the ad in some of the major newspapers. Like New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, Atlanta, and a few others.”

“Okay. How much is that?”

“How long do want the ad to run?”

“I don’t know. How long will something like that take?”

“Let’s start with a month.”

“Look,” Lee said, “let’s do it this way. I’ll give you, say, two hundred dollars plus the two hundred dollar reward. You run the ad in as many newspapers as you think are likely to get a result for as long as the money holds out. Can I trust you to do that?”

“Oh yes. I run a legitimate paper. Couldn’t stay in business long if I ever cheated a customer.”

“Alright, good.”

Lee pulled out the bills and counted out four hundred dollars. “Okay. Is that it?”

“Yes sir, I’ll take care of it for you. Just telegraph the Herald now and then with where you’re at, and I’ll keep you informed. I’ll have to spend some of the money to telegraph you back.”

“That’ll be fine.” Lee glanced at Elijah. “Come on, let’s go.”

Just then the door opened. When Lee turned, the sheriff was standing in the doorway.

TO BE CONTINUED