Authors: Robert J. Randisi
Burkett sent some of his men to look the town over. One of the men, Bud Poke, came back and said he had found Tom Kelly.
“Show me,” Burkett said.
“He ain’t wearin’ a badge, boss.”
Burkett looked at Conners and said, “Go and see the mayor.”
“Right.”
Burkett and Poke walked over to the café where Kelly was having breakfast.
“Looks like you lost your badge, Tom,” Burkett said.
Kelly looked up from his meal at the two men.
“Mr. Burkett—” Kelly said, starting to get up.
Burkett put his hand on Kelly’s shoulder and pushed him back down, then sat across from him.
“Tell me what happened…”
Conners met Burkett coming out of the café.
“Kelly’s not sheriff any more,” Burkett said. “He gave up his badge rather than face McCall. Damn it!”
“You ain’t gonna like this, boss,” Conners said. “Sam McCall’s the new sheriff.”
“What?”
“The mayor says he picked up the badge when Kelly put it down. There was nothing he could do about it.”
“That incompetent—well, if McCall thinks this is going to change anything, he’s wrong.”
“But…he’s the law now.”
“He wasn’t elected,” Burkett said, “and the mayor will swear afterward that he didn’t appoint him. Badge or no badge, Sam
McCall is a dead man.”
“What do you see?” Sam asked.
He was seated behind the desk while Jubal was positioned at a window.
“Nothing,” Jubal said. “The town looks quiet. I guess Burkett and his men must have put their horses in the livery.”
“The Swede wouldn’t be able to accommodate that many horses,” Sam said. “They’re probably in a corral behind the livery.”
“Same thing.”
“He hasn’t even got a man watching the jail?”
“Not that I can see through this hole,” Jubal said. “If I open the shutter—”
“Forget that,” Sam said. “He’s probably got a man up on a rooftop. If you open that shutter you’ll be dead.”
Jubal turned and looked at Sam.
“You don’t think the fact that you’re now the sheriff will keep him from—”
“I wasn’t elected, Jube,” Sam said, “and I wasn’t even appointed. I don’t know that I’d stand up in court as sheriff of Vengeance
Creek.”
“Why did you take the badge, then?”
Sam shrugged. “It shut the mayor up, didn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Jubal said, “I guess it did.”
“You want some coffee?”
“I’m up to here with coffee. I could use a beer, though.”
“Sorry, no beer.”
“I could go down to the saloon and get two—”
“If you walk out that door,” Sam said, “you’re a dead man.”
“I guess I could do without a beer.”
“How about lunch?”
Jubal made a face and said, “Beans?”
Sam nodded.
“I’ll skip it.”
“I could open a can of fruit.”
“Wait a minute—”
“You want the beans?”
“No,” Jubal said, “something’s happening.”
“What?”
“Come and see for yourself.”
“All right,” Burkett said to Conners, “set the men up the way we discussed.”
“Right, boss.”
“I’ll be at the saloon. Let me know when they’re all in place.”
“Yessir.”
Conners turned to the men, who were all gathered by the corral behind the livery, and said, “All right, boys.
Take up your positions. There’s to be no shooting until you hear it from me or Mr. Burkett. Understood?”
They all nodded.
“Then get moving.”
Sam took up position at the other window, and he and Jubal watched while Burkett’s men moved into what was obviously prearranged
positions across from the jail.
“Counting?” Sam asked.
“Twenty? Maybe more?”
“The rest must be on the rooftops.”
“Did you see Burkett?”
“No, not yet,” Sam said. “He’ll come along later, to give us a chance to come out quietly.”
Jubal looked at Sam and said, “Have you been through this before?”
“Once or twice,” Sam said, “in different surroundings, but the basic situation was the same.”
“What did you do those times?”
“Hold fast and wait for help to arrive.”
Jubal frowned.
“Isn’t that what they did at the Alamo?”
“Let’s hope that’s the only resemblance to this situation.”
When Chuck Conners entered the saloon Lincoln Burkett was seated at a back table with a bottle of whiskey. It was early enough
that he was the only customer in the place. Burkett had not yet gone to the undertaker’s to see his son’s body. He wouldn’t
do that until he could tell his dead son that he had killed Sam McCall.
Conners approached the table and waited to be noticed. Burkett poured himself another drink and downed it before doing so.
“Well?”
“All the men are in position, sir.”
“All right,” Burkett said, picking up his hat and standing up. “Let’s get this done.”
Sam and Jubal were at their positions at the windows, holding their rifles, when Lincoln Burkett strode into view across the
street, Chuck Conners at his elbow. Conners, like all of the other men, was holding a rifle. Burkett had no rifle, and his
handgun was in his holster.
“Hello in the jail! McCall!” Burkett called out.
“I hear you, Burkett,” Sam replied.
“Come on out, McCall,” Burkett said. “Let’s finish this like men.”
“Sure,” Sam called out, “me against thirty of your men.”
“Just you and me McCall,” Burkett said.
“He’s lying,” Jubal said.
“Of course he is.”
“McCall!” Burkett shouted. “I’ll let your brother come out. I have no quarrel with him.”
Jubal looked at Sam, who seemed to be considering the offer.
“This is Jubal McCall, Burkett!” Jubal shouted. “I’m staying right here.”
“You’re a foolish young man.”
“No,” Jubal said, “your son was a foolish young man. He tried to backshoot my brother, and he paid for it.”
“Then you’ll both die!” Burkett yelled. Burkett turned to his men and said, “Fire!”
“Down!” Sam said.
Sam and Jubal hit the floor as lead began to rain down on the jail. From inside it almost sounded like rain. Chunks of lead
chewed up the wooden shutters, but they stayed in place, relatively intact, except that a lot more light was shining through
them when the shooting stopped.
“Is it over?” Jubal asked. He lifted his head and wood splinters fell off it to the floor.
“For the moment,” Sam said, brushing himself off.
“How are we ever to get off a shot?”
“Quiet, Jube,” Sam said. “Let’s here what he has to say.”
“McCall!”
“We’re still here.”
“Send out Coffin.”
“Why?” Sam called. “So you can have another gun? No, thanks. I’m holding Coffin until the federal marshal arrives, and then
I’m turning him over for the murder of my brother.”
“Your brother, my son,” Burkett said. “They’re both dead. How many more have to die?”
“That’s up to you, Burkett.”
Sam and Jubal heard Burkett shout, “Fire!” and they ducked down again.
When the second volley of shots sounded Serena bolted for the door of the store. Her father, moving more swiftly than even
he thought he could move, grabbed her by the arms, stopping her.
“Let me go!”
“We’ll have to stay here, Serena,” Miller said. “We can’t give Sam anything else to think about, and if you’re on the street,
that’s what you’re going to do.”
“Someone has to help them.”
“And you’re that someone?” Miller asked. “Are you going to take a rifle and go out there and help them? You’ll do more harm
than good out there, Serena, believe me.”
As most of the townspeople had done, Dude Miller had closed his store, locked it, and remained inside. There was no one on
the street except Lincoln Burkett and his men.
As they stood there, eyes locked, the second volley of shots ceased and it became quiet again.
“I want to hear what they’re saying, Papa.”
Dude Miller frowned, but he said, “All right. Let’s open the door a crack.”
They did so, and found that they could hear both Lincoln Burkett and Sam McCall.
“You can’t hold out, McCall. We’ll chew that building to pieces.”
“Go ahead and chew, then,” Sam called back. “We ain’t comin’ out.”
“You know,” Jubal said. “It’d be a lot simpler if you had killed Coffin and we had John Burkett in here.”
Sam looked at Jubal and said, “Sorry I didn’t think about that yesterday.”
“I was just saying,” Jubal said, “not criticizing.”
“I understand, and I agree.”
Sam sneaked a look out the window. The bottom half of his wooden shutter had been blown away. He only had time for a short
look because as soon as they saw his head a couple of men started firing. He ducked back down.
“Burkett’s got his men well schooled,” Sam said. “I don’t even have time to get a shot off at him. He’s probably got two men
on each window with orders to shoot as soon as they see someone.”
“So then we can’t fire back.”
“Not with any effectiveness.”
As he said that the third volley of shots commenced.
With parts of the shutters gone the lead was able to enter the office. The coffeepot leaped off the stove, lead imbedded itself
in the walls, and one or two slugs managed to hit something and ricochet off.
“That’s great,” Jubal said. “Now we have to worry about being hit by a ricochet.”
Sam didn’t reply.
“McCall,” Burkett called, “I’m giving you some time to think over your position—but don’t take too long!”
All of a sudden holing up in there didn’t seem like a very good move. What they should have done was leave town with Coffin
and meet up with the marshal somewhere along the way. Still, if they had done that they could have been ridden down by Burkett
and his men. At least here they had cover—for as long as the building was standing.
“What do we do if they rush us?” Jubal asked.
“That’s a strong door, it should hold for a while,” Sam said. “First man through the door knows he’ll be dead.
Burkett’s gonna have to find someone who wants to come through first. That’ll take some time.”
“Sam,” Jubal said, sitting with his back to the wall, “I don’t see how we can hold out for two more days.”
“Well” Sam said, scratching his head, “maybe he’ll get here early.”
“And maybe Christmas will be early, too.”
One of the things they had established early on was the lack of a back door. It seemed then that this would work in their
favor. Now Sam was thinking of another way out of the jail.
“What are you thinking?” Jubal asked.
“I’m tryin’ to think of another way out of here.”
“What good would that do?”
“Well, if we could slip out it might take Burkett a while to decide that we were gone. By the time he decided to storm the
jail we’d be long gone.”
“To where?”
“On the trail,” Sam said. “Maybe we could meet up with the marshal.”
“If this marshal is riding alone, he ain’t going to do us much good.”
“I don’t think Burkett would kill a duly appointed officer of the law. That would undo everything he’s accomplished here so
far.”
“Well, the only other way out is through those barred windows in the cells,” Jubal said. “We just have to find a way to get
those bars off.”
“Well, then,” Sam said, “let’s look around the office and see what we can find to do that with.”
“Why are you giving them time?” Chuck Conners asked Burkett.
Lincoln Burkett stroked his jaw and said, “I just thought of an easy way to get them out of there.”
“We can set the jail on fire.”
“No,” Burkett said, “that would endanger the buildings around it.”
“What about dynamite?”
“Same thing.” Burkett looked at Conners and said, “I’m supposed to be a good citizen of this town. How would it look if I
burned it down?”
“What are we gonna do, then?”
“There’s one person in this town they might come out for.”
“Who?”
“Grab two men and follow me.”
“The shooting has stopped,” Serena said.
“For now.”
“What do you think—” Serena started to ask, but she stopped short when four men appeared at the door.
“Wha—” she said, but the man in front pushed the door open and she staggered back.
“What’s going on here?” Dude Miller demanded.
The fourth man to enter was Lincoln Burkett.
“What do you want, Burkett?”
“I need your daughter’s help, Miller.”
“My daughter?”
“Yes” Burkett said, “I think the McCall boys would come out if she asked them.”
“I won’t ask them.”
Burkett frowned at her.
“I was hoping you’d cooperate, but that doesn’t matter.
You’re coming along anyway.”
Burkett waved his arm, and the two men with him and Conners grabbed her arms.
“Hey!” she said.
“Let her go—” Miller started, but Chuck Conners stepped in front of him and hit him once on the jaw.
Miller slumped to the floor, unconscious.
“Papa!” Serena cried. She looked at Burkett and asked, “Why are you doing this?”
“As I said,” Burkett replied, “I need your help with the McCalls.”
“To kill them?”
“That’s up to them. Take her outside,” Burkett said to the men holding her. “Let’s see how Sam McCall reacts to this.”
There were no tools in the office. No hammers, no crowbars, nothing.
“How’s anyone supposed to escape?” Jubal demanded, annoyed.
“I think that was the idea, Jube,” Sam said. “At least, the original idea.”
“So what do we do now?”
“I have a suggestion,” Coffin called from the back.
“Watch the window,” Sam said to Jubal, and then went in the back to talk to Coffin.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Simple enough,” Coffin said. “Give me a gun and let me help.”
“That’s simple enough,” Sam said. “I give you a gun so you can kill me.”
“Now, Sam,” Coffin said, “we both know that Burkett’s not happy with me. After all, I didn’t do the job. If he kills you,
he’ll kill me, too. If you give me a gun you and I are worth any ten of his men.”
“Which leaves twenty for Jubal to handle,” Sam said. “Somehow that doesn’t seem to even the odds up much, does it? Sorry,
Coffin. You’re just gonna have to stay an observer.”
“If I’m going to die,” Coffin called out as Sam went back into the office, “I’d rather it be with a gun in my hand.”
“Anything happening?” Sam asked Jubal.
“They’re doing the same thing we’re doing…waiting for Burkett. Wait, there he is.”
Sam hurried to his window.
Burkett was standing across the street, partially obscured from view by a buckboard. Still, Sam probably could have gotten
off one shot. He touched the gun in his holster.
“McCall!” Burkett called. “I’ve got someone out here you might be interested in.”
“What the hell is he talking about now?” Jubal asked.
Burkett waved his arm and suddenly Serena Miller was pushed out from behind the buckboard. She stood in the open, and Burkett
stepped out next to her. Behind her and to her right was Chuck Conners.
“Serena,” Jubal said.
“What do you want, Burkett?”
“I see you’re interested in talking now,” Burkett said.
“Just get to it, Burkett.”
“You come out and I’ll let the girl go.”
“And if we don’t come out?”
“I’ll turn her over to my men.”
The threat was either one of violation, death…or both.
“I wonder…” Sam said, looking around at all of Burkett’s men.
“What?” Jubal asked. “What?”
“Well, most of Burkett’s men probably hired on as hands, and not as hired guns.”
“What’s your point?”
“I think if I’m standing out there all by myself, he’s gonna have to kill me himself. I don’t think his men will do it for
him.”
“What about his threat to Serena?”
“Well, there might be a few of his men who wouldn’t mind taking her into an alley, but I don’t know how many men he’s got
who would be willing to kill her.”
“So what you’re saying is that you’re going to go out there alone.”
“Right.”
“To get killed.”
“Wrong.”
“Then what?”
“Hopefully,” Sam said, “I’ll be able to reduce this whole thing to Burkett and me.” He took out his gun and checked the cylinder,
to make sure it was fully loaded.
“And if not?”
“Just stay in here and watch, Jube,” Sam said. “With any luck you’ll still be able to deliver Coffin to the marshal for killing
Evan.”
“And with no luck?”
“We’ll all be dead within the next fifteen minutes.”
Sam stood up, taking most of his weight on his uninjured leg. The other was far from completely healed, but he wasn’t about
to let it stop him from doing what he had to do.
“I’m comin out, Burkett!”
“No, Sam,” Serena called, “don’t come out. He’ll kill you.”
“I’ll cover you from the window,” Jubal said. “If you go down, I’m going to kill Burkett.”
“Sounds fair to me.”
Sam walked to the door, opened it, and stepped out. Once outside Sam felt very vulnerable. There were at least thirty guns
pointed at him. He was putting a lot of faith in Burkett’s men being ranch hands and not killers. Of course, there were those
men who had chased him that day, but maybe they’d be less willing to fire at such a stationary target.
“All right, Burkett,” Sam said, “I’m here.”
“Where’s your brother?”
“Like you said before,” Sam said, “you have no quarrel with him.”
Burkett thought it over and decided not to argue the point. Sam McCall was out in the open. He could deal with the other one
later.
“Let her go.”
“Not yet, McCall.”
“Then what now?” Sam asked.
“Now you drop your gun.”
“I don’t think so, Burkett,” Sam said. “If your men are gonna kill me I want a chance to take some of them with me—or are
you gonna do it yourself? Yeah, there’s an idea.”
“Shut up, McCall.”
Sam raised his voice.
“With most of the town watching they can all testify that thirty men gunned me down. That’s murder.”
“Remember,” Burkett said, “you have your gun.”
“One against thirty?” McCall said. “Even though it’s my gun, it’s still murder. Are you all gonna go to jail—or are you gonna
let your boss do his own killing?”
Sam looked around and saw Burkett’s men exchanging glances.
“Come on, Burkett,” Sam said, “if you do it yourself at least you can claim self-defense.”
“Good try, McCall,” Burkett said, “but if you gun me you’re as guilty of murder as you say Coffin is for killing your brother.”
Sam frowned. Damn the man, but he was right.
“Well, go ahead then, Burkett,” Sam said. “Give your men the order to murder me.”
Burkett looked around at his own men and saw the dubious look on some of their faces.
“Go ahead, Mr. Burkett,” Chuck Conners said, “some of us will back you.”
“Of course,” Sam said, “my First bullet will go right through your heart, Burkett”
Burkett suddenly froze, as if he realized that Sam McCall could draw and fire and kill him before he could even move. What
good was having Sam McCall dead if he couldn’t see it?
“Call it, Burkett.”
Sam saw the look of fear on Serena’s face. When the lead started flying he hoped she was smart enough to duck beneath the
buckboard.
“Wait,” Burkett said. “I have a better idea.”
“I’m listening.”
“One of my men against you.”
“What stakes?”
“Everything,” Burkett said. “I’ll withdraw my men from town.”
“And Coffin?”
“He’ll be yours.”
“And the killing of your son?”
Burkett made a face and said, “You lost a brother, I lost a son. Maybe well can stop it there.”
Sam didn’t believe him, but for the moment it was the best offer he had.
“All right,” Sam said. “Pick your man.”
Burkett spoke without hesitation.
“I pick Coffin.”
Sam was about to refuse, saying that Coffin was a prisoner. “I’ll agree, on one condition,” Sam said.
“What?”
“Let her go now”
Burkett looked at Serena for a moment, and then he spoke to Chuck Conners.
“Let her go.”
“Make him bring Coffin out first, boss.”
“No need for that, Conners,” Burkett said. “Mr. McCall is a man of his word—aren’t you, Sam?”
“Jubal?” Sam called.
“Yes, Sam?”
“When Serena is safely away, bring Coffin out.”
There was a moment’s hesitation. Sam knew Jubal would have liked to argue the point, but there wasn’t time.
“All right, Sam.”
“Don’t give him his gun yet.”
“Right.”
Sam looked at Burkett expectantly.
“Go ahead, little lady,” Burkett said, “go back to your father.”
Serena threw one last glance at Sam, and then ran from the street. She didn’t go far, though. Her father had recovered and
had come down the street to see what was happening. She ran into his arms, and they both stood there to watch. Dude Miller
had one hand around her shoulder. In his other hand, down by his leg, he held a rifle.
The door to the jail opened and Coffin stepped out, followed by Jubal, who had his gun in his hand and Coffin’s gunbelt over
his shoulder.
“Stop,” Jubal said, and Coffin stopped.
Sam turned so he was half facing Burkett and Coffin. Some of the townspeople had gotten brave and had come out onto the boardwalks
to see what they had been waiting all week to see. Burkett’s men, seeing all the witnesses, began lowering their rifles.
“Give him his gun,” Sam told Jubal.
“But Sam—”
“Do it, Jube.”
Jubal, shaking his head, took Coffin’s gunbelt from his shoulder and handed it to the man. Coffin grabbed it and buckled it
on, then faced Sam.
“This is a big mistake on your part, McCall.”
“This is what you’ve wanted all along, Coffin, so let’s just do it.”
Coffin stepped down into the street and said, “You can’t fool me, Sam. You’ve been wanting this, too. You want to see which
of us is better just as much as I do.”
Sam didn’t answer. He watched Coffin carefully as he walked out into the middle of the street.
Jubal, relieved of the responsibility of watching Coffin, chose now to watch Lincoln Burkett and his foreman closely. If and
when Sam killed Coffin, Jubal didn’t think Burkett was going to accept it.
Burkett, watching as the two men squared off, said to Conners in a low voice, “If McCall kills him, I want him dead.”
“Right, boss.”
Conners turned and indicated to his men that they were to watch him. He had kept the men he could be sure of—Priest, Granger,
and some of the others who had chased McCall that day—on the ground with him.
Except for Jubal, who was watching Burkett and Conners, all eyes were on the two men in the street.
“Who calls the play?” Coffin asked.
“Never mind that,” Sam said. “You just move when you’re ready.”
They were close enough that Sam could watch Coffin’s eyes. If they’d been further apart he would have kept his eyes on his
right shoulder, waiting for it to dip.
The eyes, though, would narrow even before the shoulder clipped.
Even though Coffin’s eyes did narrow before he moved, Sam was surprised at how fast he was. Coffin had possibly the fastest
move he’d ever seen, and even as he drew and fired his own gun he couldn’t help but admire it.
Sam’s bullet struck Coffin high in the chest. Coffin—sfinger spasmed, jerking the trigger of his own gun, firing a round into
the ground by his foot. For a moment time stopped for Coffin and he stared at Sam, admitting to himself the fact that the
man had not only outdrawn him, but had done it by a wide margin. Even though he had seen Sam McCall’s move twice before, he
was shocked.
“Shit,” he said, and died before he hit the ground.
Jubal raise his rifle and shot Chuck Conners as he was drawing his gun.
“Fire!” Lincoln Burkett shouted…
It’s easy to get thirty men to agree to fight rather than lose their jobs. It’s easy to get them to fire their rifles at a
building, at a jail with two men inside it. It’s harder, however, to get thirty men to fire their guns at another man. Killing
a man isn’t an easy thing to do, and men who make their living punching cattle or breaking broncs can’t moved so easily into
killing.
When Burkett shouted “Fire!” thirty men heard him, but only about eight actually drew and began to fire. The others lowered
their rifles and watched.…
The minute Burkett shouted, Dude Miller pushed Serena into a doorway and raised his rifle. He fired at the nearest man with
a gun in his hand.
Ed Collins came out of his gunsmith shop with a rifle in his hands and ran toward the action. If there was ever a time for
this town to get out from under Lincoln Burkett’s thumb, this was it.
Swede Hanson had known since the day the McCalls arrived that it would come to this, lead flying in the streets. He had cleaned
his old Navy Colt every day since then, and now he had a chance to use it. He’d been standing in a doorway, watching the action,
and now he stepped out and raised his gun…
Sam would have preferred to turn as soon as he fired, but he had to make sure that Coffin would go down. As the man started
to fall he turned, saw Chuck Conners fall, and leaped for cover just as Lincoln Burkett shouted his command to his men.
Sam noticed right away that not all of Burkett’s men had obeyed his command. He also noticed that there was some covering
fire coming from different directions. With a glance he identified Dude Miller and Ed Collins. He didn’t find out until later
that Swede Hanson had also been firing.
Lincoln Burkett also noticed these things. He especially noticed that less than half of his men had obeyed his command.
He didn’t like the odds.
He ran up onto the boardwalk, behind his men, and started running down the street.
“Sam!” Jubal shouted. He had taken cover behind a horse trough and was now pointing at the retreating figure of Lincoln Burkett.
“I’ll get him!”
Sam got to his feet and fired as he ran. He stayed on his side of the street, passing Jubal, until he was clear of the jail
and Burkett’s men, and then he crossed the street and took up the chase.
He reloaded as he ran, keeping Burkett in sight ahead of him. Burkett, at his age, would normally not have been able to stay
ahead of Sam, but Sam’s leg wound kept him from running at full speed.
The thing that worked in Sam’s favor was that Burketthad chosen a direction that was away from everything.
He was running away from the livery, and the saloon, he was even running away from his ranch, which was south of town rather
than north. This indicated that the man wasn’t running toward anything, he was simply trying to get “away.”
That wouldn’t happen, Sam swore to himself. Not by a long chalk.
He ignored the burning pain in his thigh and increased his speed. He was closing the gap between himself and Burkett. Burkett
saw this as he looked over his shoulder, and he panicked. Gun in hand he turned and fired at Sam, but his shot was so hurried
that he missed by a wide margin.
Sam saw the man riding down Main Street just as Burkett fired at him, and he saw the badge on the man’s chest. The appearance
of the man slowed his reaction, and Burkett fired again. This time the bullet fell short, kicking up dirt in front of Sam’s
feet. This reclaimed Sam’s attention and he fired once, accurately. The bullet hit Lincoln Burkett high on the right shoulder.
It was an unhurried shot, because it was obvious that Burkett was inept with a gun, therefore it was a well-placed shot. Burkett’s
hand opened and the gun fell to the ground. He went to one knee, clutching at his shoulder.