The Fast Gun

There was nothing unique about him. Nothing to make him stand out from any of the other men walking around Cheyenne. Brown hair and mustache, with the beginning of a beard covering his chin.

His six-shooter hung from his hip low and tied down. No bone handle grips here. Basic walnut was good enough for him. He was a town tamer. Keegan was his name.

Sitting in a cafe having his mid-morning coffee, Keegan watched the well-dressed man approach his table. Standing there with his hat in hand, he reminded Keegan of a Banker, soft with no sand.

He spoke in a soft, higher-octave voice than most men. "I've been told you clean up towns. I want to hire you."

"Not interested. Leave me be." Keegan thought to himself. He was a ranch hand now. Nothing more. And he continued to sip his coffee.

"We'll pay more than you normally got." he pleaded.

"Not that it matters much. As I told you, I was not interested, but how much?" Keegan replied.

"A thousand dollars. Half now and half when the job is done. May I sit down? My name is Deeds."

"It's a free country, Mr. Deeds," I said pushing out a chair with my boot. "What's the name of this dung hole? Not that I'm interested."

"Smith Creek. It's near Leadville," he replied looking around nervously.

"I've heard of it. What's happening there to warrant you needing someone to clean it up?"

"Muggings, thefts, rapes, killings. Can you help us please? We are desperate for law and order."

"Law and order is not what you are looking for, Mr. Deeds. You want someone to take out the trash. And what happens after that? Who's going to keep the peace?"

"We'll hire someone." he replied.

"Why not just hire someone to begin with and let him clean up the place?"

"Because that is not the type of man we need right now.! You are!"

"If I was to decide to take the job. You pay me up front. All of it. And you let me do the job my way. No intereference what so ever."

Deeds eyes lit up and he spoke rapidly, "Agreed. How much? When could you start?"

"Five thousand and you get your town back. And I get there when I get there."

"I don't know if I can go that high?" he grumbled.

"I'll be around if you change your mind. Good day." Keegan got up, laid a quarter on the table and walked out into the bright sunshine. Not thinking about the change he had coming. His mind was already thinking about the adrenaline rush that always came when cleaning up a town. In his heart he had thought that part of his life was over. Guess he was wrong.

Keegan strolled down the street until he came even with the general store. Reaching into his pocket, he checked and noticed his tobacco pouch was getting short. He turned in that direction and had taken a step when someone called out his name. It was Mr. Deeds

"Mr. Keegan. Anyway you could possiable come down in your price?"

"No! I gave you my price, Mr. Deeds. Either take it or leave it. I will be riding out in the morning. So, I'll be in the cafe at seven for breakfast. You have until then to make up your mind."

Deeds stood there staring at Keegan's back as he walked up on the boardwalk and opened the door. Stepping inside he squinted from the bright glare into the gloominess of the darkened store.The people inside stepped back or turned away from his aura radiating outward, this was a tough and dangerous man.

"Can I help you ,Sir?" asked the clerk.

"Tobacco."

"Anything else?"

"Have you Lucifers?"

"Yes, we do." he exclaimed proudly. "How much of each do you want?"

"Couple boxes of the Lucifers and five pounds of tobacco will do. How much do I owe you?"

The clerk did some figuring on a piece of paper and reported the damage. " Two dollars will cover it, Sir."

I handed over the money and he smiled handing me my purchases. I walked out and set down on a bench in the shade and rolled a smoke. A stray dog lay down under the bench in the shade and his tongue hung out as he panted before falling asleep. He had the right idea.

I leaned backwards and pulled my hat down over my eyes and dozed. It was one of them lazy muggy days of July. In the back reaches of my mind I drifted in time and I remembered back to that fateful day.....

My Father was the Sheriff of Mineral Wells, Texas. Least he was until the Mendoza Gang rode in and starting shooting up the place. By the time they were done over twenty people lay dead and many wounded. My Father was hit hard and later died as a result of the attack.

I could see it as clear as if it had just happened. Nobody did anything to try to stop it. They were too scared and when I tried they beat the crap out of me. It took two weeks before I was able to get out of bed.

"What are you doing out of bed, Mister? Get back in there. The Doctor said to take it easy and rest for another week.

"If I lay here another minute Mother, you might as well send for the undertaker. I'll be ready to be laid to rest. What's been happening around here?"

"What do you think? I am sure you have heard the screaming, gunshots and breaking glass." she wept.

"Who's the law now? Did the mayor appointment Deputy Benson Sheriff?"

"He lasted one day and they killed him as well. Mendoza claimed this town and raved how he would kill any who put on the badge." She paused to look at me and suddenly she knew. "You can't Josiah Keegan. I've already lost your Father. I will not lose you as well. Get that thought right out of your head, young man. You are only seventeen."

"Who else is going to do anything? If they were? The Rangers would have already been here and taken out the trash." It took some effort to get dressed and my boots on, but I did it. I went out into the livingroom and started going through Dad's desk.

"You won't find it there?" she boasted and her eyes drifted to the coat pegs by mistake.

HIs old coat. The one he always wore while on a posse. It should fit, well , close enough anyways. I buckled on my gun belt and shrugged my shoulders into the buckskin coat. It fit better than I thought.

Once outside and away from Mother, I loaded the sixth chamber of my six shooter. Making my way by back alleys I entered the jail through the back door. Luckily I found what I was hoping for, two Colt revolving shotguns. I fulled loaded them and put extra shells in my coat pockets.

I heard someone jingle the door knob and watched it turn. In a moment I was behind the door and waiting, holding my breath. Slowly it opened and I smelled stale sweat and vomit. A sombrero on top of greasy hair peeked around the corner. I slammed one of the shotguns down as hard as I could and he dropped to the floor. A quick glance outside showed no one noticing, I dragged him inside and closed the door.

I hauled him into one of the back cells and rolled him under the cot. He was dead. I had caved his skull in. Hopefully it would be awhile before he would be missed. Now that I had started this, I had a lot more to finish. Out the back door I went.

Next door lived the Jones family who owned the Stables. Henry would know what was going on. I knocked on the back door and waited to one side for it to open. "Who is it?" asked a voice softly.

"Josiah Keegan, Henry. Can I come in?" and I heard locks being undone.

"Hurry before you are seen." he whispered and closed the door behind me locking it tight. HIs eyes looked on the Sheriff's badge and opened wide. " What do you think you are doing?"

"Something everyone else is scared to do. What about you Henry? Would you put it on? No, I didn't think so. All I want is information. How many are there?"

"More than you can handle. There is twenty-five of them."

I shook my head. "Twenty four. I killed one of them down at the jail and shoved him under one of the cots in the back cell.

"Oh my God! You're going to get yourself killed and just after your Mother lost her husband." he scolded.

"Where do they all hang out?"

"Mostly the Saloon and Hotel. If you insist on going after them I would suggest the Hotel first. It's at the end of town and on this side of the street. You realize you are not going to get any help from anyone in town."

"I know and I am not doing this for them. It's for my Father. A better man than any of you." I left the back door open when I walked out.

I creeped in the back door as cautious as possible. The hallway was empty and I could hear Youngman at the desk out front snoring loudly. Tiptoeing down the hallway, I stopped short of the desk and whispered, "Hey Jules. Wake up!"

He snorted and woke with a start. "What? Who is it?"

"Jules, it's me Josiah Keegan. Who's all in the hotel right now? Any paying guests?"

"No! Just them bandits four of them. Sleeping off a drunk."

"What rooms? And you never saw me."

He grinned. "Rooms seven, eight, nine and ten.All up front upstairs. Think I need to use the outhouse." and he winked going past me down the hall.

Up the steps I cautiously made my way, carrying master keys in my hands.I paused at the top looking in both directions. Turning left I came to room seven. Opening the door The smell of sweat, vomit and urine assulted my nose. Didn't these guys belive in bathing? The breathing stopped momentarily and then resumed.

He didn't stir as my knife slit his throat. He barely struggled at all. Covering him up I left for the next room. Room nine was just as sweet smelling as seven. This one started to rise and I bent the shotgun over his head. He slumped down and moved no more. I locked this room back up and headed toward the others.

In room eight, he had company. She started to scream and I shushed her. He jumped out of bed naked and I planted my boot where it would hurt the most. He fell to the floor and was moaning when I snapped his neck. "Are you ok, Ma'am? Did he hurt you any?"

"Who are you?" she began crying. I excourted her to another room, where she promised to be quiet.

Room ten proved that no job is ever as easy as it might seem. I open the door and the bed was empty. Damn! As I ventured inside a hand reached out and grabbed me hurling me against the wall. I bounced off into a fist. As i hit the floor I kicked out and smashed his knee cap. Stumbling backwards he held onto the bed to steady himself.

I stood up and shook my head. Wiping the back of my hand against my mouth I noticed the blood. Jumping forward I threw a right hook knocking him into the brass bed. He tried an over hand left and I grabbed him and heaved with all my might through the window. Bouncing off the porch roof he landed in the street with a broken neck admist the broken glass and window frame.

There went the element of surprise. No way could someone not notice now. Back outside I ran down the back alleys past the jail until I was near the Stables.Finally I slowed to catch my breath. What have I become? In the space of an hour and a half I had killed five men. Granted they were scum, but they were men never the less.

I went behind the stables and almost ran into one of them. He pulled iron and I lifted the shotgun and shot him, damn near tearing him in half. He wimpered a moment and then met Satan.

The back door of the Saloon was wide open and empty. I Guess Holstein was trying for a cross breeze. It wasn't working. I had both revolving shotguns in my hands when I stepped into the main room of the saloon. I didn't say hi or by, just let them fly. I caught them flatfooted.

Those shotguns make one heck of a mess. I emptied them twice and finished off any survivors with my sixgun. I didn't know Mendoza wasn't here and I would run into him again...

Bootsteps jarred me awake. It was two old men walking past to the Livery jabbering away about the weather. I watched them for a moment then dozed off again, lured to sleep by the normal sounds of everyday life in town. I kept expecting the local law to come around asking when I was leaving town. That it hadn't happened yet made me wonder just who the Law was in these parts. Hopefully, not be some punk out to make himself a reputation.