When Jeff failed to rise to Tannat
t’s challenge, Tannatt emitted a disdainful snort and tilted his head back, taking a great draught of his beer. Jeff gave the man at his right a light push and a glance, and the man, understanding Jeff’s intent, hurriedly backed away. Others nearby, catching the signal also moved back. Tannatt was pulling his beer mug away from his mouth, when Jeff slapped the bottom of it, sloshing beer into the bully’s face. Tannatt reacted with a savage bellow, flung the mug and reached for his gun. But he froze when he felt the barrel of Jeff’s pistol jammed, none too gently, into his belly.
Jeff spoke in a low, hard v
oice. “I wasn’t finished with my drink, and I’d like to get back to it, so let’s get this over with.” He stepped back slowly, watching the bully, but keeping track of Tannatt’s friends from the corner of his eye. The men behind him and those behind Tannatt had moved aside, clearing a wide lane for a bullet path. The raucous cacophony of sound in the room had ceased. Everyone was watching and listening. Out of the corner of his eye, Jeff saw one of Tannatt’s friends surreptitiously slide his chair back and begin to stand up. Without diverting his gaze from Tannatt, Jeff pointed with his left hand. “Sit down or I’ll shoot you first.” The man looked at Tannatt apologetically and sat down.
“If y
ou really want to do this,” Jeff said to Tannatt, “then I’ll holster my gun and you can show us all how brave you are. But I surely wouldn’t advise it.”
The attention of every man in the room was now on
Tannatt. It was clear the tall, lean stranger among them was ready for action. It was equally clear he did not intend to make the first move. Jeff knew exactly the position Tannatt was in. He doubted the small-town bully had ever even seen a real gun fight. The man was big and had found other men easy to push around, and now, probably for the first time in his life, he was in a situation he couldn’t bully his way out of with his fists.
There was no arrogance on Tannatt
’s countenance now as he faced Jeff. He licked his lips nervously, and he was beginning to sweat. Jeff could sense his fear. The bully’s dilemma was obvious: how to avoid gunplay without losing face.
There was movement at the bat-winged doors, and a deep voice boomed throu
gh the silence of the bar-room. “You two men keep your hands where they are. If one of you makes a move I’ll shoot him.”
Jeff stood where he was as his pistol was removed from his hand.
The owner of the voice stepped around him, and as he did, Jeff caught a glimpse of the badge on his vest.
Sheriff Beeman strode to where Al Tannatt stood and relieved him of his pistol. “Move over there
where I can watch you,” he ordered. Tannatt moved over to the table and sat down.
Beeman rummaged Jeff with his ey
es for a few moments. “Stranger.” It was an observation, not a question.
Jeff said nothing.
The sheriff’s gaze shifted from Jeff to Al Tannatt and back again to Jeff. “Troublemaker?” This time it was a question.
“Just came in to have a quiet drink
.”
Beeman glanced back at Al Tannatt who sat glaring at him, surly and silent. “I don
’t want any more trouble out of either one of you tonight. I’ll throw you both in jail; I don’t care who starts it. Do your drinking and get out. Pick up your guns in my office in the morning.”
Al Tannatt sp
oke in a voice that was at once contemptuous and belligerent. “You’ve got no authority here in town, Beeman; you’re not the town marshall. I’ll need my gun tonight; I’m riding back to the ranch.”
There was no mistaking the distaste in Beeman
’s eyes as he listened to Tannatt’s complaint. “I’m duly authorized to act in Marshall Bradley’s place until his broken leg mends. If you don’t like it, take it up with the town council.
“I want my gun, Beeman,”
said Tannatt. His voice had the demanding petulance of a child long accustomed to getting his way.
Beeman, acting deaf and blind, wheeled and left the barroom, carrying the two pistols.
Jeff stepped over to the bar, watching Tannatt in the mirror. There was a man he had noticed before, leaning heavily on the bar, too drunk to be aware of events taking place around him. A pistol butt protruded from the holster on his right side. Jeff positioned himself next to the man and turned, leaning back against the bar, resting his hand on the butt of the drunken man’s pistol—a clear message to Tannatt, who, unlike Jeff, had friends in the room with weapons.
Tannatt sat at his table
glowering at Jeff while Jeff, using his left hand, reached over, retrieved his unfinished drink and began sipping it.
For a time
neither man moved from his spot and though some of the men had returned to their games and their drinking, everyone was careful not to get too close to either of them or to walk between the two. Taking his time, Jeff finished his drink and set the glass on the bar. He gingerly lifted the drunk man’s pistol from its holster and slid it into his own. Keeping his eyes on Tannatt, he wagged a finger to motion the bartender closer. “Tell him he can pick up his gun at the sheriff’s office tomorrow morning,” he said, tilting his head toward the drunk man. He put his coat over his arm and started toward the door. Tannatt stood up and walked over to intercept him.
Jeff had been halfway expecting this
. Tannatt still had to save face and would feel safer now without a gun, knowing Jeff would be a fool to use one on him unarmed as he was and in a room full of witnesses. By disarming them, Beeman had put things back on Tannatt’s terms and now the bully was going to take advantage of that fact. Jeff turned wearily to face him.
Tannatt said, “Lucky for you the
sheriff turned up when he did, but that don’t end it. There’s more ways to fight than just with a gun.”
“What
’s your quarrel with me, Tannatt? I’m sure I’ve never laid eyes on you before.”
“You
’re the one who started it,” lied Tannatt. “Me and the boys just came in to have a good time.”
Jeff stepped forward
and stood eye to eye with him, and when he spoke his voice was very low. All talk in the room ceased as men strained to hear what he was saying. “You and I both know what happened here, Tannatt, and I want you to know something. If you tangle with me, you won’t have a good time.”
At that, Tannatt took a step backwards and folded his arms on his chest. Taking this to mean the confrontation was over, Jeff started once again
toward the door. It was a trick and he would later reproach himself for not having seen through it.
Al Tannatt lunged forward
and swung a heavy fist that struck Jeff a wicked blow on the side of the head. Jeff was knocked off balance and had to side-step to keep from falling. Tannatt again folded his arms on his chest and smiled, cock-sure and arrogant.
Having no other choi
ce, Jeff unbuckled the gun belt and laid it, with his coat and hat, on the bar. He walked over to face Tannatt, and the two men began circling. Tannatt was smiling, savoring the moment and Jeff knew he could expect no fairness or mercy from the man. He had known men who loved to fight simply for the sake of the contest, but they were not cruel, and they found no joy in hurting another man. They would never stomp on a man’s head or kick him in the guts after he was down. Al Tannatt was not one of these. He was of another ilk, of which Jeff had also known more than a few. These were men who derived pleasure from inflicting harm and who delighted in cruelty.
Tannatt threw two punches, a right and a left, both of which Jeff
easily dodged, pleased to see there was little speed behind them. His opponent was big and powerful, and Jeff knew he would have to rely on speed and skill to win this fight. He dodged another right, aimed at his chin, then moved in quickly and delivered a jarring blow to Tannatt’s out-thrust lower jaw.
Tannatt staggered backward a couple of steps
, and when he moved forward again it was with his guard held higher and a new respect in his eyes. He swung again, missed again, and again Jeff moved in, this time swinging from the other side, striking Tannatt’s jaw a glancing blow which the big man partially blocked. Jeff backed off and Tannatt moved in, aiming two more blows at Jeff’s face, which Jeff was again able to dodge. Immediately, Jeff stepped in swinging, but this time before he could connect, Tannatt hit him with two lightning-fast jabs that jarred him backward and made his legs go weak. Tannatt pushed forward and Jeff saw he was in trouble. The slowness had been a trick; the man was fast.
Tannatt struck Jeff on the
left ear with a hard right and Jeff staggered sideways and slammed up against the bar. Tannatt moved in for the kill, but he was over-confident. Jeff shifted his weight, braced his left hand on the bar and brought his right fist up in an upper-cut that had all his strength behind it. It connected with the underside of Tannatt’s chin with a resounding thud that rocked the big man’s head back and sent him reeling backwards.
Tannatt caught himself
and stood there for a moment, his feet wide apart, his body swaying a little. Jeff was bent forward, supporting himself with his hands on his thighs. Neither man seemed eager to continue the fight at this moment. For the first time Jeff became consciously aware there was cheering and betting among the crowd of men that encircled the two combatants.
Presently,
Tannatt started moving again, his guard up and a murderous look in his eyes. Jeff shifted his position, not wanting to have the bar at his back. There would be no more tricks now; they had taken each other’s measure. From here it would be an all-out, bloody battle until one of them dropped.
Tannatt came on suddenly, swinging hard with both fists, clearly intending to end the fight. Jeff took sev
eral blows to the body and head and dodged several more, giving back as good as he received. He aimed one well-timed blow at Tannatt’s mouth and split the man’s upper and lower lips straight down the center. Jeff’s left eye was either swollen shut or filled with blood—he didn’t know which—and his vision was gone on that side.
They were both deeply winded fr
om the exertion of the struggle and their movements were slower now. Speed had ceased to be an issue and little attempt was made to block or dodge or feint; it was simply give and take, as they dragged in hoarse, rasping lung-fulls of air.
Jeff
’s thoughts were as clouded as his vision, but he was aware that, by sheer virtue of size, Tannatt was pushing him gradually backward. He was about to side-step in an effort to change his position when, abruptly, he felt his shoulder blades make contact with the wall. Tannatt, seeing an opportunity in this, put all his strength into a solid blow to Jeff’s left cheek bone which slammed his head back against the wall. There was an explosion of light inside Jeff’s skull, and he felt his knees threaten to buckle. His only thought was to get out from between his opponent and the wall. Unwittingly he had dropped his guard to the level of his waist. Now he turned the palms of his hands outward, and with all his strength thrust them forward. The heels of his palms slammed into the middle of Tannatt, forcing a grunt out of the laboring lungs.
Jeff took advantage of the momentary pause and moved around to the side. From there he swung a right at Tannatt
’s skull. His fist connected, but there was no power behind it and none inside of him to draw upon—he could barely lift his arms. Jeff knew he was beaten and he saw in Tannatt’s eyes as the man turned and came toward him, that he knew it too. Tannatt raised his bloody fists and moved in to end the fight. He threw a hard right-hand punch, which Jeff was lucky enough to dodge.
Jeff had one trick left and it was one Amado had taught him
. As Tannatt’s fist slipped past his head, Jeff reached forward and grasped his opponent by the front of the shirt. Tannatt’s weight was behind the punch and he was leaning forward, slightly overbalanced. Jeff pulled the big man toward him and bent his legs, pulling him down. Then he simply allowed himself to fall backwards, taking Tannatt with him. Just before they hit the floor, Jeff twisted and levered his good knee viciously into Tannatt’s groin.
Tannatt
’s cry of agony sounded more like a death rattle as it blended with his struggle for air. He rolled over and lay curled on his side on the floor, each breath a groan. Jeff lay on his back, grateful for the respite, fighting to drag air into his lungs. The shouting and cheering in the room were deafening. The men who had bet on one man or the other knew the fight was not won or lost until one of the combatants was down, and the other on his feet. One man was on hands and knees, begging Tannatt to get up.
Jeff lay there for a few moments,
then rolled onto his stomach and with great effort hoisted himself to his feet. As he did so, the pitch of the noise in the room increased to a roar. He looked down at Al Tannatt, who showed no signs of moving, staggered to the bar, and retrieved his holster. He pulled the borrowed pistol out and laid it on the bar. Someone handed him his coat and hat and said, “Good fight.” He walked unsteadily toward the door and as he passed Tannatt—still lying on the floor—he looked down and croaked in a half whisper of a voice, “Hope you and the boys had a good time tonight.”
The men who heard him bellowed with laughter and the circle opened up to let him pass. H
e didn’t even notice the slaps on the back he received as he moved through the door into the cool evening air.