Authors: Robert J. Randisi
When Sam and Jubal returned to Vengeance Creek they could feel that something had happened while they were gone. There were
still people standing in groups along the street. When Sam and Jubal passed, people suspended their conversations to stare
at them.
“What the hell happened here while we were gone?” Jubal asked.
“I don’t know,” Sam said, looking back at some of the people, “but I aim to find out. Come on. We’ll leave the horses in front
of Dude’s store and find Evan.”
They rode over to Dude Miller’s general store and tied their horses to a post. As they approached the store Sam suddenly stopped
short.
“That’s funny,” he said. “He closed early.” It was only three P.M., and Miller usually kept his store open at least another
three hours.
“You don’t suppose he got beat up again, do you?” Jubal asked.
“We’d better check the house.”
They remounted and rode to the house. When they dismounted they didn’t bother tying off their horses. They mounted the porch
and Sam found that the door was unlocked. They exchanged glances and then hurried inside.
They heard Serena crying as soon as they entered, and then saw her and Dude sitting on the sofa. Dude had his arm around Serena.
Sam couldn’t see her face. If any of Burkett’s men had hurt her…
“What’s going on?” Jubal asked. “What’s happening?”
Both Miller and Serena turned to face them, and Sam was taken aback by the look of pure horror on Serena’s face.
“Serena?” he said.
All she could do was cover her open mouth with both hands and stare at him.
Sam looked around and said, “Where’s Evan?”
“Sam—” Dude Miller said, but he stopped short.
“Dude, Serena?” Sam said. “Where is Evan?”
Finally, Serena lowered her hands from her mouth and stood up.
“Oh, Sam…” she said.
“Serena?”
“Sam, oh Sam,” she said, moving toward him slowly, “he’s dead.”
“What?” Sam wasn’t sure he’d heard right—he
hoped
he had not heard her right. “What did you say?”
“H-he’s dead,” Serena said again, “I still can’t believe it h-happened, but h-he’s dead, Evan’s dead…”
“What happened, Serena?” Jubal demanded.
“Tell us what happened,” Sam said, his face a mask of stone.
Dude Miller rose and stood behind his daughter, his hands on her shoulders.
“It was Coffin, Sam,” Miller said. “Coffin called him out into the street.”
“And Evan went?” Sam said, in disbelief.
“He’s dead?” Jubal asked.
“He’s dead, boys,” Dude Miller said. “Coffin cut him down before Evan could even touch his gun.”
“Evan was no gunman,” Sam said coldly, “he had no business facing Coffin.”
“Sam…” Serena said.
Jubal turned to bolt from the room and Sam grabbed him.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going after Coffin!”
“No you’re not.”
“Then we’re going after him—”
“You’re stayin’ right here, Jube,” Sam said.
“Sam, he killed Evan!”
“I know,” Sam said. “I know he did, and he’s gonna pay, but you’re stayin’ here.”
“Like hell I am—” Jubal said, pulling free of Sam’s grasp. He touched his gun and said, “I’m gonna kill the son-of-a-bitch.”
He started past Sam and Sam grabbed his arm, spun him around, and hit him. Serena gasped. As Jubal started to fall Sam caught
him, lifted him up and laid him on the sofa. Then he took Jubal’s gun from his holster and gave it to Dude Miller.
“Don’t give it to him when he wakes up.”
“Where are you going?” Miller asked.
“I’m gonna give Coffin and Burkett what they want,”
Sam said.
“You’re going to let them kill you, too?”
“I’m not Evan, Serena,” Sam said. “He didn’t belong out there. I do.”
“Sam—” she said, reaching for his arm, but he was already on his way to the door.
“Papa—” Her eyes and her voice beseeched her father to do something.
“Honey,” he said, shaking his head, “it’s got to be this way.”
She stared at him for a moment, then looked down at the unconscious Jubal. Lying there quietly like that, he looked like a
little boy. She leaned over and touched his cheek tenderly.
“And what if Coffin kills Sam?” she asked. “Does Jubal go after him next?”
“I don’t know, honey,” Miller said, “I just don’t know.”
True to his word, Coffin was not hard for Sam McCall to find. He was sitting in a wooden chair in front of the saloon. Standing
alongside him was John Burkett and two or three Burkett men.
Sam walked briskly toward the saloon, and Burkett and his men straightened up. Coffin continued to lounge in his chair, sitting
with it tilted back against the wall.
“Sam—” he said as Sam mounted the boardwalk, but he got no further. Sam hooked the front of the chair with his foot and pulled.
Coffin went down on his back, the chair splintering beneath him. Sam quickly bent and removed Coffin’s gun from his holster,
tucking it into his own belt.
When he straightened Sam looked at John Burkett and his men and said, “Stand still and don’t interfere!”
“You took his gun,” John Burkett said. “You can’t kill him in cold blood.”
“I’ll kill the first man who touches a gun,” Sam said to them, and they all leaned away from him, holding their hands as far
from their guns as possible.
Coffin had struck his head when he’d fallen and had not yet fully regained his senses. Sam leaned over, grabbed him by the
shirt front and hauled him to his feet. Holding him with one hand he began to strike him with the other, vicious forehand
and backhand blows that jerked the man’s head right and left. Blood began to trickle from smashed lips, and then it flowed
down over the man’s chin. Still Sam McCall held him by the shirt and struck him, back and forth, until finally he was too
tired to continue. He turned Coffin around and shoved him out into the street, where he fell onto his back. He was conscious,
but his eyes were glazed and the lower portion of his face was a mask of crimson.
Sam went into the street after Coffin and hauled him to his feet again. Instinctively, Coffin covered up, fearful of more
blows, but Sam was finished with him—for now.
“Walk!” he said, pushing the man.
“Where are you taking him?” John Burkett demanded.
“To jail.”
“For what?”
“For killin’ my brother.”
“It was a fair fight!” John Burkett called after them.
“That the way you saw it, Coffin?” Sam asked as he continued to push the man toward the jail. People who were watching sidestepped
to get out of their way.
Coffin wiped his mouth on his sleeve and frowned down at the blood. He was only now beginning to understand what had happened.
“Was it a fair fight, Coffin?” Sam demanded again.
“He had a gun.”
“Sure he had a gun, but he was no gunman and you knew it. Why’d you do it, Coffin?” He slammed his palm viciously into the
man’s back, staggering him. “Why’d you do it? Did you get tired of waitin’ on me? Or did Burkett tell you to do it?”
“The kid—” Coffin said through mashed lips.
“What?”
Coffin tried to speak more clearly, but his tongue had been cut against his teeth and was swelling up some.
“The kid, he paid me.”
“The kid? John Burkett?”
“That’s right—”
Sam turned quickly, just in time to see John Burkett aiming his gun at his back. He drew and fired, in fear for his life.
In fear of dying the way Hickok had died. He fired by pure instinct, and the bullet sped straight and true across the street,
striking John Burkett in the heart.
Sam turned back to Coffin then, who was watchinghim. The man was grinning, and Sam could see the film of blood on the man’s
teeth.
“Oh, the old man’s not going to like that, Sam.” Coffin said. “You better give me my gun and let me kill you right now.”
“Keep walkin’,” Sam said. “You’re gonna hang for killin’ my brother.”
“Ha!” Coffin said. “Not in this town. Burkett owns the sheriff.”
“There’s a federal marshal due here any day,” Sam said.
“You’re gonna wait in a cell until he gets here, and then I’m gonna turn you over to him.”
“The sheriff will never go along with it.”
“If he doesn’t, I’ll kill him.”
Coffin fell silent for a moment and then said over his shoulder, “You would, wouldn’t you? And what about Burkett? He won’t
let me stay in jail.”
“If he tries to get you out, I’ll kill him, too.”
“All this killing,” Coffin said, “when the one you really want is me. Come on, Sam, give me my gun and let’s get it done.”
Sam holstered his gun, spun Coffin around, and grabbed him by the shirt with both hands. He pulled Coffin real close to him
so that he wouldn’t miss a word.
“No gunplay for you, my friend,” he said evenly, coldly. “You’re not gonna get off that easy. I’m gonna watch you dance at
the end of a rope, Coffin, kicking and screaming until you die. I’m gonna make sure your neck doesn’t break. I’m gonna watch
you strangle at the end of that rope. Whataya think of that, Mr. Gunman?”
Coffin stared into Sam McCall’s eyes and felt fear for the first time in years.
“That’s no way for a man to die, Sam,” he said, softly.
“You’re not a man,” Sam said, releasing Coffin’s shirt.
“You’re slime, Coffin, and slime dies at the end of a rope. Now…walk!”
Sheriff Kelly jumped to his feet when the door to his office slammed open. Coffin staggered through the door and Sam entered
after him.
“What’s going on here?” Kelly demanded. He noticed that Sam McCall had his gun out, and this did not please him. He started
to sweat profusely.
“I want this man in a cell, Sheriff!” Sam said.
“You can’t just—”
“This man killed my brother,” Sam said, cutting him off. “You know that. In fact, you might even have watched him do it.”
“I didn’t—”
“I have a federal marshal coming to town,” Sam said, although he still didn’t know if the man would ever really get there.
“You’re to hold this man in a cell until he arrives.”
“Look—”
“You are not to let him out for any reason.”
“Mr. Burkett won’t—”
“If you let him out,” Sam continued, “I’ll kill you.”
Kelly’s mouth snapped shut.
“Is that clear enough for you?”
Kelly tried one last bluster.
“You c-can’t threaten an officer of the law l-like that.”
“I’m not threatenin’ you, Kelly,” Sam said. “I’m makin’ you a solemn promise. If you let him out before I tell you to, I will
kill you. Do you understand?”
Kelly nodded jerkily, his voice failing him.
“Now, toss me the keys to the cells.”
Kelly opened the top drawer of his desk and groped for the keys. Finally, he yanked his eyes away from Sam’s gun long enough
to find them and he tossed them over.
“Let’s go, Coffin.”
Coffin, resigned to the fact
Coffin, resigned to the fact that he would be spending a short time in jail, obeyed. He knew Burkett would have him out in
no time. After all, Coffin was the only man who could stand up to Sam McCall and get Burkett’s revenge. As they reached the
doorway to the cells Coffin
As they reached the doorway to the cells Coffin stopped short and said, “You’d better go and tell Lincoln Burkett that his
son is dead, Sheriff.”
“What?” Kelly said. “J-John’s dead?”
“He tried to backshoot me while I was takin’ Coffin, Sheriff. There were witnesses.”
Actually, Sam had his doubts about witnesses coming forward to back him up. They would, after all, be going against Burkett
if they did that. Sam had decided, though, from the moment he learned that Evan was dead, that he would be taking matters
entirely into his own hands. If he had to answer to the law later, so be it.
He put Coffin in a cell, locked the door and came back out to the sheriff’s office. He holstered his gun and undid the gunbelt
for a moment. Kelly watched as Sam looped the key ring through the gunbelt and then buckled it again.
“Wha—”
“I’ll hold onto the keys, Sheriff,” Sam said, “this way you won’t be tempted.”
“Look, McCall,” Kelly said, “if you killed Burkett’s son—”
“Oh, I killed him, all right. He’s still lyin’ out there in the street.”
“Oh, Jesus—” Kelly said, rushing to the window. “I’ll have to have him taken to the undertaker’s—”
“No,” Sam said, “you’ll stay right here with the prisoner.”
“But the body—”
Texas Iron “I don’t want John Burkett’s body at the undertaker’s while my brother’s body is there, Sheriff. Is that understood?”
“But Mr. Burkett—”
“I don’t care about Mr. Burkett.”
“H-he’ll kill me!”
“He’ll kill you later,” Sam said. “If you don’t do as I say I’ll kill you right now. You have a choice.”
Kelly swallowed and said, “With a choice like that, I’ll take later—but who’ll tell Mr. Burkett?”
“There were some men with John Burkett,” Sam said.
“Lincoln Burkett will know about it soon enough.”
“He’ll come after you.”
Sam grinned coldly and said, “I’m countin’ on that, Sheriff.”
As Sam started to leave Kelly said, “Wait—what am I supposed to do?”
“Get your deputies to help you with Coffin. You’re gonna have to keep Burkett’s men out of here.”
“W-What?”
“They’ll want to try and break him out. It’s your duty to stop them.”
“Oh, Jesus—” Kelly said, but Sam McCall was already out the door. Sheriff Kelly fell into the chair and put his elbows on
the desk and his head in his hands.
Sam went back to the Miller house and told Jubal, Dude, and Serena what he had done.
“You didn’t kill Coffin?” Jubal demanded, outraged.
There was a bruise on the right side of his jaw.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“There was no need.”
“He killed Evan.”
“I know that, Jube.”
“But you killed John Burkett.”
“He tried to backshoot me,” Sam said. “That was self-defense.”
“I don’t understand you,” Jubal said. “You had a chance to kill Coffin…unless you were afraid to face him.”