The Starshine Kid: Arroyo Grande
Part 11 of 20
Predator and Prey
Five of the Connors brothers slowly
ambled up the main street astride their steeds, riding like cavalry soldiers
returning from a wearisome battle victory. Tired and thirsty, they made their
way toward the saloon in hopes that some type of alcoholic refreshment still
remained to water their trail-dried throats.
“You be best a hidin’, Marshal,” Joe
insisted. “These boys ain’t never gave no mind to harmin’ me, but strangers….”
Marshal King peered through a small
hole toward the Connors. Turning toward his lone friend, he said, “How about
you head on up to the second floor outta harm’s way and I’ll take care of
servin’ the Connors boys their due drinks.”
“You’re the boss, Marshal,” Joe
replied, before disappearing up the saloon stairs.
The five brothers tethered their
horses in front of the saloon, making far more noise than their number amounted
to. Entering, they observed a stranger behind the bar, a long silent eeriness
followed.
The Starshine Kid counted only four
brothers. In the shadows of the saloon’s entry the marshal could make out the
silhouette of a rifle casting its shadow across the boards beyond the swinging
doors. He quickly greeted the group and offered drinks to their fill. This
rustled up the lone brother standing outside and forced his entry into the long
forgotten establishment.
“Who are you?” one brother with the
flames of hell in his eyes asked. “And where is the old man?”
“So, you Connors boys been out havin’
a hard day I see.” The stranger behind the bar appeared to know more than he should,
and that gave him the edge he needed.
“The name’s Clay,” stated one
brother. He pounded his large hands on a table near the left side of the
entrance. “Now answer the question… where is the old man and who are you?”
“That’s two questions, Clay. You’re
dumber than your brothers look,” the stranger answered.
Lawman and outlaw both stared down
on one another with the eyes of both predator and prey. Marshal King studied
Clay’s reaction for any minute detail that would give him a clue as to the
outlaw’s next move, keeping his pistol finger perched a hair’s breadth from the
butt of his gun.
“I don’t have a mind a sayin’ you
got a lot of nerve stranger. More nerve than a regular kinda man. You must not
be afraid of dyin’.”
“Sometimes a man's life can make
death a much more welcome experience,” the Starshine Kid replied.
Tension rose steadily in the saloon
like the rising waters of a small tidal pool on the edge of an ocean inlet. The
brothers fanned out, spreading themselves across the saloon in loose formation,
hands hovering over the butts of their pistols.
“Answer my brother, quick like,
stranger,” one of the outlaw brothers demanded.
“Shut up Cullen,” I ain’t gonna tell
ya again, don’t be talkin’ when I be talkin’.”
The Starshine Kid studied the
group’s faces for signs and details of emotion, reading their eyes and body
mannerisms for hidden hints. Finally, he addressed Cullen abruptly, “Where are
your other two brothers, boy?”
“They be down south of the Rio
Grande a bit, getting’ some wet stock for—”
“Angrily, Clay snarled at his
brother, “You idiot, why, I got a right mind to wallup you upside the head. How
stupid are you… tellin’ this stranger somethin’ like that."
Clay informed the stranger that his
brother was only fooling around and that his other two brothers were down south
visiting a sick aunt. Clay thought about this stranger for a moment, and who he
might be. Thinking was a dangerous thing for a Connors boy to do.
“You must be the law. How else would
ya know who we are, or how many of us there be.”
The Starshine Kid answered with a smile,
“US Marshal King is the name, Adam King. Drinks are on me.”
The Connors exchanged brief glances
while Marshal King carefully watched their eyes for signs of action. Clay drew
his pistol first, firing a round and missing the marshal by barely a hair’s
breadth. Quickly, the other Connors brothers followed suit. Marshal King
managed to hit two of them, sending one to the floor in a pool of outlaw blood
while the rest of the group exited the swinging saloon doors faster than a
colony of rabbits running from a coyote; the marshal followed in quick pursuit.
The Starshine Kid knew he stood a
mere trigger pull away from his last dying breath, sweat rolled down his
forehead and into his eyes like a waterfall’s shower into a remote mountain
river. It was hot, dang hot, but Marshal King remained as calm as a reflective
pond in the blazing sun’s light.
Lying in the road was the other
victim of justice’s bullet, taking his last miserable breath of dusty trail air,
while his own kin raced away with two riderless horses trailing behind them in
the wake of a large dust cloud.
From a second story window of the
saloon, Joe yelled out, “Let me put on some ridin’ britches, Marshal, I got a
mind to join ya on your huntin' adventure.”
Two of the Connors boys needed
burying, however, so Joe was instructed to proceed with the arrangements while
the marshal took care of marshal business on his own.
“Looks to me you got Chris and
Calvin James; them other three was Cullen, Carl, and Clay.”
“That leaves Calvin Paul and
Clifford unaccounted for… probably rustlin’ stock like Cullen Connors said they
were,” the marshal speculated.
“Dust be arisin’, Marshal,” the old
man pointed off into the distance from the window that had just overlooked more
street action than the town had experienced during its boom years.
“Can ya make anything out from up
there?”
“Looks like a lone rider, no more
than that.”
“Let’s get these bodies into the
shade somewhere. It ain’t gonna help much, as hot as it’s gotten to be, but it
sure ain’t gonna hurt none.”
“Ok, Marshal, I’ll be right down.”
With the Connors’ bodies hidden in
the shade by the side of the old livery, Marshal King and Joe returned to the
front of the saloon and sat down on what remained of a long wooden bench, a
bench that once provided a resting stop to alcohol infested patrons tired of their
own staggering.
The lone rider strode into town,
head high. “Thought I’d be findin’ you here, Marshal Adam King,” he stated.
“Well… I’ll be….”
“I happened upon some bareback
ridin’ friends of yours dropping a small blind boy off at one of the rural
stagecoach stops a few hours ride from here, the night of the lightning storm.”
“That was some nighttime light show!”
old Joe commented.
“Anyway, I waited with the boy until
the stage came through. As it turned out, that same Oregon politician you came
across was aboard that stage. I introduced myself and he right up told me he
had written a pardon for me and had given it to none other than US Marshal Adam
King. So, I trailed you here and left the little lad with the politician and
stage driver.”
The marshal looked at Joe and said,
“Let me introduce my sweetheart’s brother, Anton, better known as Antonio from
Antonio.”
“I heard of you. You came from back
east someplace.” Joe looked surprised. “You be about the deadliest gun there is
in these parts nowadays, or any other parts for that matter, so I heard me.”
“Looks like we got some rustlin’
robbers to catch,” Anton commented.
“Yeah,” Marshal King agreed, “but
first…” he handed Anton some papers from his coat pocket. “Now it’s official.
And I’ll also be swearin’ you in.”
“Sounds about right to me,” Anton
replied.
*** Part
12: Pursuit of Happiness ***
________________________________
The Starshine
Kid: Arroyo Grande
By Royce A
Ratterman
© All Rights
Reserved
Cover Art &
Illustrations by Erlend Evensen
The characters,
locales, enterprises, entities, and events herein are entirely fictional and
intended for educational and entertainment purposes. Content portrayals do not
reflect any actual events, locales, entities, or any individuals living or
deceased.
Dedicated to all of those
who lost their lives establishing peace, safety, and harmony in the days of the
Old West
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