Saturday Shootout

I

I remember the gunfight between Kane and Abel Conner like it was yesterday.

Most folks around town remember it too, but I know certain details about that shootout since I personally oversaw the whole battle.

One would think that it would be the height of foolishness for a couple of church-going folks to name their sons after the two brothers in the Bible that formed the first tale of murder, but I’m not the one to judge. Abel became a cowboy. He herded the cows and broke the horses on the family ranch. Kane grew to be a farmer. He planted and harvested the wheat and cotton that was sold to nearly fifty of the surrounding counties in North Texas. While the Conner family a good deal of wealth, those two boys have been at each other’s throats since they crawled out of their cribs. Old Bill Conner managed to keep them in line when they were growing up, but since he rode a lightning bolt straight to the pearly gates, Abel and Kane have been constantly at war, which led to the infamous gun match.

I was getting some new revolvers ready for display in my store when ’Becca walked in. I knew something was wrong since it was Tuesday, and ’Becca only came to town on Sunday and did her shopping after church service. My concerns grew when I heard the crying hitch in her breath, and saw her wipe tears from her eyes. I put down the pistol I was cleaning, wiped my hands free of gun oil, and walked around the counter. “Good morning, ’Becca. Is everything all right?”

She looked at me with those sparkling blue eyes, and fresh tears began to flow. As I walked closer, she finally let go, crying in great big sobs. I put my arms around her while she cried down the front of my shirt. I was worried about her, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy holding her close. She began to calm down, and I asked her again what was wrong. My first thought was that something bad had happened to one, or both of her boys, and I wasn’t completely wrong.

She pulled away from me, and cried, “My boys are going to kill each other over a dead horse, and I can’t stop them!”

II

I keep a bench along the back wall of my shop for customers who need to wait while I filled their orders for ammunition or gunpowder, and that is where I led ’Becca so she could rest her heels while I poured a couple of shots of whiskey. I gave one glass to her. She downed it in one gulp, took the other one from my hand, and finished that one as well. I never knew her to be much of a drinker, however, I didn’t chastise her for the breach of etiquette.

I just refilled another glass and handed it to her. She took a tiny sip and started to calm down. The rye was working on her since the hitch in her breath was gone, and some color had returned to her cheeks. She lifted those blue eyes to me and told me her tale of woe.

It all started early that same morning. Abel was taking special care of a powerful mustang stallion that had a slick black coat. He had been showing the horse off in town for the past few days and had even talked about taking it to that new stock show in Fort Worth. He was leading it out of the stables early that morning for a good ride, and before he could get the saddle on, a loud gunshot exploded across the plains. The horse reared back on its hind legs, then collapsed to the ground.

Abel was stunned at how quickly it all happened. As the horse kicked out the last of its life in the dust, Abel knelt down towards the beast. There was a very large blood-soaked hole just behind the eye. Blood poured from its mouth, soaking into the ground. Looking at the size of the hole, Abe knew the shot had to have come from a large caliber weapon. In a flash, he recalled that his brother owned a buffalo gun, and he jumped to the conclusion that Kane targeted the horse for assassination. Now, during this tragic event, Kane was out hunting when dawn arrived, however, he was after animals like rabbits, raccoons, and other varmints that might chew up the vegetables in his garden. He was using his Winchester rifle, while the buffalo gun was still mounted on the wall in his bedroom, but little details like that didn’t matter to Abe. He called Kane out, and in front of God, their mother, and several hired hands, he accused Kane of being a horse killer. The boys fought it out for about an hour, and Abel challenged Kane to a gunfight on the main street that Saturday.

Poor ’Becca remained calm while she told this story, but I could tell this whole ordeal was worrying her to death. She leaned closer and said, “Silas, please talk to them. They respect you. Surely you can talk some sense into their thick skulls.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t listen to you. You’re their Ma.”

She wiped her eyes again and gave a sad smile. “If they were younger, I would’ve taken a whip to them. But for God’s sake, they’re seventeen years old and over a foot taller than me! Ever since Bill passed on, they’ve been snorting and butting heads like a couple of bulls! And, God help me, I think they’ve been looking for a reason to kill each other. Is this how brothers are supposed to act?”

She gave me a pleading look as she asked that last question. As if by being a man, I should know the thoughts of all my fellow male brethren. Of course, ever since I started my own journey as a gunsmith, I often wondered about the violent tendencies of man. How many guns have I sold were used to harm other people? I have since made peace with the fact that guns are available for anybody that wanted them. They can be used for defense of hearth and home, and for putting meat on the family table. So no, the guns themselves couldn’t be blamed when they are used to take human lives. That judgment has always gone to the evil that lives in the human heart and soul. Reverend Parker can cry in the wilderness about the misery and pain of violence, but how is one to act when violence comes kicking down the door, demanding everything that one has raised, built, or grown from the ground? Men start wars for gain and power, while other men must participate if they put any value in their lives or livelihood.

How can I explain this to the pretty blue-eyed lady next to me? That her sons were destined to fight? That violence is part of the male spirit? I didn’t want to do that to her. And, she did have a point. Men need to learn to talk to each other and try to maintain peace. It would make things a whole lot easier.

“All right, “I said, “go finish whatever business you have in town. I’ll close up the shop, saddle my horse, and ride with you to your place. I’ll talk to your boys, and see if we can resolve this.”

’Becca slumped in relief. She held my hands as she stood up. “Thank you, Silas. You come over and talk to them, and show them the error of their ways.” She took a couple of steps and stumbled into the display case. “Whew, this whole mess got me so worried that I can hardly walk straight.”

I started to blab that maybe it was the shots of rye that was in her system, but I put a firm clamp on my tongue. Her walk became more steady as she moved closer to the door. She turned back and said, “I’ll have a short chat with the Reverend Parker, and I’ll wait for you near the church.”

She opened the door and walked out. I untied my apron, put on my own gun belt, put the Closed sign on the front window, and locked the door. I was going out the back door since the livery stable was on the other side of the alley behind my shop. I could also chew the fat with Mr. Greeley there, and buy me some extra time to think about what I was going to say to Kane and Abel Conner when I met them. Sure, I was smitten with Becca’s blue eyes, but I didn’t have the faintest clue on how to stop those two hotheads.

III

The ride to the Conner place was uneventful. We ran into one of the cowboys that Abel hired, and I told him to send the message that I wanted to see both brothers at the main house as soon as possible. After helping ’Becca with the items that she bought in town, I was sitting in a chair on the front porch with a cup of coffee when I saw Kane walk into the yard from the wheat fields in the east. I heard approaching hoofbeats from the opposite direction and turned to see Abel ride in from the stables in the western grazing yards. When he came close to the hitching posts, Abel jumped off his horse and stalked towards Kane. As they came closer, I could feel the anger build in the shrinking space between them. Before they could start using their fists, I set my cup down and stepped down from the porch.

“All right, boys. I didn’t call you down here to fight. I wanted to talk you both out of killing each other.”

Abel stopped and looked at me. “It’s too late for all that Silas.” He pointed at Kane. “I’m gonna kill this sodbuster for shooting my best horse.”

Kane balled up his own fists. “Dammit Abe, I didn’t kill your dang horse!” His face was red from both the sun and his own anger.

I looked at Abel, and said, “That sodbuster that you are talking about is your own brother, or have you forgotten that?”

“I don’t care what blood we share,” he said in a petulant tone, “Horse killers are usually hung or shot, and since the Sheriff doesn’t want to do his job, I’ll have to get justice my own way.”

“Maybe the reason why Sheriff Evans didn’t arrest Kane is that there is no proof that Kane fired that shot.”

Abel yelled, “That’s bullshit! I know that-”

’Becca cried out from the porch. “Abel Conner! You will keep a civil tongue in front of guests, or I’ll scrub it with lye soap!”

Abel wisely shut his mouth. Maybe there was some hope after all. I turned to Kane, and said, “Kane, obviously Abel thinks that you are somehow responsible for this. Look, why don’t you pay him something for his loss? Like a peace-offering?”

Kane looked at me like I was crazy. “What? Why should I have to pay for something that I didn’t do? Besides, I consider it cosmic justice, since his dumb animals are always breaking into my fields, and eating my crops. I told him I would shoot the next animal that I catch in the wheat. So-”

Abel cried out, “There! Did you hear that, Silas? He all but admitted to shooting my horse!”

“I didn’t kill your damn horse, cow-puncher!”

“Sodbuster!”

They lurched towards each other, fists raised and knuckles ready. I jumped between them just shy of too late, and they tried landing blows around me.

“Stop! Stop it, that’s enough!“I yelled as I shoved them apart. I knew right then that this was beyond a mere fight between brothers. This was rancher against the farmer. The main conflict has always been who has higher priority over the land, and in this case, blood was going it be spilled.

I looked at both of them, and said, “Fine. If you two want to shoot it out, then so be it. This is going to be a duel.”

I wasn’t surprised to see ’Becca stumble off the porch. Her face was getting a red as her hair. I held my hand out to stop her and said,”’Becca just calm down and hear me out. If you still want to talk about this later, we’ll do that.”

I returned my attention to Abel and Kane. “This is going to be done fair and legal, so I’ll be the mediator. If you two just show up in town with guns blazing, then some innocent townfolk might get hurt or killed, and the Sheriff will hang both of you. I’m going back to town, and sort out the details with the Sheriff and Judge Lloyd. This Saturday at 10 am, I want both of you to be at my shop. I’ll supply the weapons so that it will be a fair fight. In the meantime, Abe, you better ride to the Odeem’s ranch on the other side of town and see if they will let you bunk there for the rest of this week. Kane, you can stay here. I don’t want either of you to come within ten yards of each other until this Saturday, and I suggest you spend the next few days practicing your shooting. Any questions?”

Neither of the brothers said a word. They just tried to destroy each other with glaring looks of poisonous hatred. Finally, Abel turned to his horse, mounted, and rode off towards town. Kane looked at his Ma and then walked back to the barn.

’Becca stared at me as she had never seen me before, and that she didn’t like what she saw. I knew that if I started talking first, she would claw my eyes out. Seconds ticked by as we stared at each other, then she spoke in a low whisper. “Silas Mayner, please tell me you didn’t give my sons permission to kill each other. Tell me that you are not going to supply them with guns so they can have a gunfight.”

I looked directly into her big blue eyes, and said, “Do you trust me, Rebecca Conner?”

That question threw her off her temper for a second. “What do you mean?”

I said, “If you trust me, then trust me when I say that everything will be alright. Those two boys will shoot it out, and it will be all over.” I kept my tone steady and certain. If I showed any sign of uncertainty, she would surely kill me herself.

It worked. She narrowed her eyes, turned, and walked back inside her house, slamming the front door hard behind her. I knew better than to go after her. I unhitched my own horse and galloped back to town. There was a lot that I had to do to set up the shooting match that coming Saturday.

IV

During the next couple of days, I had cleared up the legal matters with the Judge and gave all the details to the Sheriff, so he can make sure the main street through town would be clear for the upcoming battle. That last issue was important since news of the gunfight spread through the town like a brush fire. More people showed up in town during that week than when the Civil War ended. The saloons stayed full every night, and of course, lots of bets were made on which brother would survive. However, there were some folks who didn’t like the expecting shootout at all. ’Becca was one of them, of course. I didn’t see any sight of her during the next few days. I could imagine that she was planning my own demise when this was over. Also, the ladies who sang at the local church didn’t hold the event in high regard either. They held a singing vigil in front of my store on Thursday, and when that didn’t change my mind, the Reverend Parker himself stepped in for an intervention.

He opened the door and walked in with careful steps. He clutched his huge family Bible to his chest as if I hired the Devil himself to get any good Christian that would dare walk in my lion’s den of evil.

“Good morning, Reverend. What can I do for you?” I said in the friendliest voice I could muster. I wondered if it would any good to remind him that he personally baptized me into the Savior’s fold when I was a wee lad.

He looked around my store, and I guess he didn’t sense any evil presence, since he marched right to the front of my counter, and dropped the Good Book on the glass counter-top so hard I was afraid it would crack.

“Silas Mayner,” he said in his carrying baritone voice, “I have come here on behalf of poor Rebecca Conner to persuade you to call off this unholy act of violence that you have orchestrated. This church cannot sit idly by and-”

I cut him off. “Reverend, I completely understand your concern, but you have known those Conner boys their whole lives. They’ve been battling each other since they could walk. This gunfight was inevitable, like Fall coming after Summer. I’m just making sure that they fight fair.”

“Fight fair? Silas, do you know how this is affecting their poor mother? She has hardly eaten a thing but bread and water, and hasn’t had a decent night of sleep because you have allowed her two sons to fight to the death! This is an abomination to God! Why-”

I cut him off again. “Those two were going to try to kill each other anyway, regardless of what I did. This is the only way to resolve this issue for good.” I wasn’t trying to be rude, but once he gets going, he can turn anything into a sermon, and I didn’t want this talk to last all day. If I didn’t cut him off quickly, he would preach until the cows come home. “Don’t you remember when they tried working as ushers at the church that Sunday?”

That Sunday was back when the Conner boys were just eleven years old, and Bill Conner was still alive. ’Becca had decided to have her sons serve the church as ushers and maybe get a little peace in their souls. Their duties were to direct people to empty pews, assist any old people if necessary, pass around the collection plates. They acted fine until they retrieved the collection plates from the back pews, and started walking up the center aisle to the pulpit. One pushed the other, the other pushed back, then they started shoving each other. The collection plates fell to the floor, and soon the boys were rolling in the tithe money, punching and kicking like crazed little demons. Bill Conner quickly stomped right at them, grabbed both by their shirt-collars, and hauled them out the front door. I was told later that those boys spent most of that next Monday on their feet, and the Reverend no longer allowed them to sit close to each other during the Sunday service.

“So you see, those boys are going to fight. And, I’m going to tell you the same thing that I told the widow Conner. You’re gonna have to trust me on this.”

The Reverend bowed his head in defeat. He heaved his Bible off the counter and walked to the door. Then he turned around, determined to have the last word. “Silas, we’ll be praying for those boys, and we will pray for your soul as well. Just remember, the Good Book says that one of the lowest circles of Hell is for Sowers of Discord.”

I replied, “Actually, that saying comes from Dante’, as I recall.” The Reverend opened his mouth, then he shook his head, and walked out.

V

The sun was bright and the sky was clear on the plains that Saturday, so you couldn’t ask for a better day to have a duel. People started gathering along the street as soon as their morning choirs were done. The saloon ladies were leaning out of their windows for a bird’s eye view. Younger kids were chasing each other through the crowds of onlookers, play-shooting each other with L-shaped wooden guns. I had two Schofield pistols cleaned, loaded, and ready. I wrapped the gunbelts around the holsters and carried them outside. Sheriff Evans saw me walk out, and came to me along the boardwalk, keeping his eye on the street. He was a big man with a taste for good German beer, which showed in the large gut that hung over his belt.

“I told everyone to stay clear of the street.” He looked down at the weapons that I had in my hands. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Silas.”

“Just stay close, Sheriff, “I said, “and keep your eyes open for any helpers.” That was my biggest worry. Even though Kane and Abel Conner hated each other, they were friendly enough around town, and they each had their own group of friends. I didn’t want this shooting match to turn into a town war.

The voices in the crowds started to rise, and heads started to turn to the east, including my own. I saw Abel riding down the street with three of his cowhands trailing him. The ’hands dispersed as Abel stopped in front of my store. The sounds of an approaching wagon came from the opposite direction, and we watched Kane driving his hay wagon into town. This didn’t surprise me since Kane was never very comfortable in a saddle. ’Becca Conner was sitting next to him, and as soon as he stopped, she jumped off, and stood with the Reverend’s church group on the far side of the street. Kane set the brake on the wagon and stepped off. The two stood in front of me. They hardly looked at each other. Two men bound by blood, but their own pride and anger was going to lead to the death of one of them very soon.

I looked at both of them. “Are you two sure about this? If either of you wants to call it off, now is the time.”

Their chins lifted up, and their eyes told me everything I needed to know. Their manhood was on the line now, and to back out now would be a sure sign of cowardice.

I nodded and handed a gunbelt to each of them. “These pistols are fully loaded with six shots each.” I raised my voice a bit, so the crowd can hear me. “Kane, you will go stand in front of the jailhouse, and Abel, you go stand in front of the General store. That should be about fifty paces. Here are the rules: One, you cannot leave the street. No hiding behind buildings, wagons, horses, or people. Two, your revolvers are the only weapons allowed. If one of you is shot dead, and if you both run out of ammunition, then the fight is over. Are we clear on the rules?”

Both Abel and Kane nodded as they strapped the guns around their waists and adjusted their holsters. The Sheriff spoke up. “I would like to add something.” He looked around, and yelled, “This fight is between the Conner boys only! If anyone else fires a shot, I will personally gun them down!”

He stepped back on the boardwalk and said, “Gents, the street is yours.”

I pulled out a small derringer from my pocket. “Boys, take your places, and when you hear my shot, that is your signal to start fighting. Get going.”

They walked away from each other. The crowds watched in silence as they stopped where they were told and turned to face each other. Their hands already hovering above their guns.

I backed away from the street, raised the derringer above my head, and pulled the trigger. Both Kane and Abel drew their guns at lightning speed and started shooting. Yells and cheers came from both sides of the street:

“Get ’em, Abe!”

“Take ’em down Kane!”

My head turned left and right as I watched the two brothers duck and dodge to avoid the bullets coming at them while trying to fire shots at each other. The smell of burnt gunpowder was in the air, and the echoes of the battle could probably be heard all the way to Louisiana.

Then, as quickly as it began, it was over. The sound of the last shot fired off, and both Kane and Abel were clicking their triggers on empty cylinders. They were both standing, and neither one had any sign of injury. The crowd quieted down, and most had the same expression of shock on their faces as the two gunfighters. I walked back into the street and waved both of them to me. They closed the distance, still holding their pistols. They were both giving their guns a sad look like the guns somehow betrayed them.

As they passed in front of the onlookers, one old-timer who was leaning against a hitching post yelled out, “Hell, those boys couldn’t hit a barn from ten feet away!”

This statement brought shouts of laughter from the rest of the people, and now that the fight was over, they began to drift apart to continue their day.

Kane and Abel stood in front of me. Their looks of pride were gone, replaced with embarrassment as they heard the laughter from the rest of the town. I could’ve told them that most of that laughter was from relief that no one died, but why spare them any comfort? “Well, “I said, “You two tried to kill each other, and you couldn’t even do that. Do either of you know what that means?”

“It’s a miracle!” That shout came from behind the boys, and it made me jump. It was the Reverend Parker. He stood among us, gearing up his sermon voice. “It was a God-given miracle! Praise Jesus! God Himself listened to our prayers, and diverted the bullets to spare you, two hooligans!” He turned back to the Ladies’ Choir. “Sisters! Let’s sing praises to God for this day! Whenever Satan tries to spread darkness, God will surely turn on the light! One-two-”

The choir started singing ‘How Great Thou Art’ as they marched in unison back to the church. I turned back to the boys and said, “Miracle or not, I hope you remember this day the next time you two want to spill each other’s blood.” Of course, they wouldn’t forget it, since they were reminded of it every time they started arguing. They never lived this down, and that went a long way to keeping the peace between them.

Abel slowly holstered his gun and turned to face Kane. He said in a low voice,” Kane, maybe I was wrong about you killing my horse.”

Kane put away his own pistol. “Abe, we never got along well, but I never hated you enough to kill a prized horse. It was a great one, and I knew how hard you worked to care for it.”

Abel nodded. “That’s right, you always came to me yourself if you had a beef with me. I’m-I’m sorry for accusing you.” He stuck out his hand, and Kane shook it. I knew then that things were going to be all right between them.

“Hey,” Abel said, “let’s go get a beer at the saloon.” He looked at me. “You can come with us, Silas. We can drink, and try to forget all this-”

“Oh no, you don’t!” ’Becca yelled as she walked towards her sons. “There will be no forgetting this, and you two are not going to get drunk and start another fight!” She was getting angrier as she spoke, and she wasn’t done with her rant. “I’ve just about had it with both of you! If you two weren’t my sons, I would’ve run you off my land years ago! All of your petty fighting and this shootout has aged me twenty years, and you’ve neglected your work at the ranch long enough, so don’t think you’re going off to some saloon! I want you both home right now! Abel, you’ve got cattle to look after, and Kane, I want the farm animals fed, the stalls in the barn cleaned, and-and there are other jobs to do! And I don’t want to see either of you back at the house until well past dark! Kane, you wait for me in the wagon. I’ve still got business to discuss with Silas. Get moving!” They started walking, and she helped them along with a swift kick in their rumps.

She turned back to me, and said, “Silas, I would like to speak to you alone.”

“There is one more thing I need, “I said as I stopped the boys. “If you two want to keep those guns, they are fifty dollars apiece. Otherwise, I would like them back.”

They unbuckled their guns and handed them to me. I led ’Becca to the front door of my shop, and held it open for her. I followed her inside, closed the door, placed the belts on the counter, and turned to face the storm. ”’ Becca, I know this was difficult, but believe me when I-”

I never finished, since she grabbed the lapels on my vest, pulled me down, and planted her lips on mine. The kiss was quick, but I enjoyed every second.

She pulled back, and there was a gleam of happiness in her blue eyes that about melted my heart. “Thank you,” she said, “Thank you for my sons’ lives, Silas.” She reached up and straightened my vest. She looked back up at me and asked, “Now tell me what you did. You did something to those guns, didn’t you?”

I was going to stick with the Reverend’s miracle story, but after that kiss, I knew that I was hopelessly in love with Becca, so I told her the truth. “Yes, well, it’s kind of hard to shoot anything if your gun is loaded with wax bullets.”

“Wax bullets?” she asked, “What are those?”

I explained. “I learned how to make them when I was working for Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show a few years ago, and he used wax bullets to stage fake gunfights. When the bullet is fired, the wax evaporates as it goes out the barrel, so there’s a good bang, but no shot. I filled those guns with fake bullets, and your sons could shoot each other without hitting anyone, especially themselves. That was how I got the Judge and the Sheriff to go along with this. We thought it would be better for those two boys to make fools of themselves than to have one of them live with the regret of killing their own brother.”

’Becca said, “Silas, you’re a good man, and I won’t forget this.” I knew what was coming next, so we both met halfway for the next kiss, which was a bit longer and much sweeter.

I finally came up for air. She walked to the door and turned back. “Why don’t you come over tomorrow for Sunday supper? I’ll cook a big steak just for you.”

With a smile, I asked, “Would I get some of your tasty biscuits for dessert?”

’Becca’s eyes sparkled in the light when she said, “You may get something better than biscuits for dessert.” And with that, she opened the door and walked out. My heart thudded in my chest at her last words, but I couldn’t have been happier. I decided to keep the store closed. I needed to get a good bath, a shave, and a haircut. I wanted to look my best for the supper tomorrow, and for the sweet dessert that would follow.