They all gathered in the town hall for the vote. Deputy left the door open. Guess is, 'e wanted me to see the mob storm in and out as the ballot was counting. I saw the widow step out of the hall first. Couldn't tell if she was crying or not. Doesn't really matter. Sheriff shot first. What was I supposed to do? Let 'im shoot me?
I watched a few more of the townsfolk step onto the street before dozin' off. I don't know how long it took, but when I came to, the door to my cell was open.
"Deputy?" I called out. No answer. Was's a test? Is 'e trying to see whether I'm stupid enough to escape? The minute I step foot outside, 'e's got me dead to rights. Ain't nobody willing to question the word and honor of a badge. That's what I hate about lawmen. No one questions them. They get all their esteem and so-called charisma from a piece o' tin pinned to their chest. They don't earn that right, and it's a disgrace.
"Are you coming out or not?"
I know that voice. Not a lawman, not the undertaker, not some bounty hunter, and definitely not the deputy. If this man is breaking me out, then I may really pray for the sum'bitch that was guarding me.
"I'm not coming out just so you can shoot me again, Dunny," I told 'im.
"I'm not gonna shoot you, Darby."
"Throw your guns in, then. I know you still got them on you, Dunny."
"I only got one gun now."
"We both know that's 'orseshit."
'e let out a deep, annoyed exhale before 'e threw 'is guns in. Two peacemakers and 'is uncle's old Army Colt. The same guns 'e's had since we first stood off against Bale and 'is gang. That was the first day in my life anybody took a bullet for me. It was also the first time in my life I got shot in the leg by a ricochet. God as my witness, I'll never trust Dunny in a firefight ev'r again.
As I walked out of my cell, the stench hit me like a ragin' bull. I shoulda figured. Dunny 'ates lawmen even more than I do.
"Whatcha making that face fur?" 'e asked me, dusting off 'is worn-down hat.
I bent over to pick up 'is guns. 'e tried to 'ide it, but I could tell 'e was scrunchin' 'is left side in disgust. I respected that. Ain't nobody worthy of a man's guns 'cept 'imself.
"Where'd you leave the deputy?" I handed 'im the guns as I walked outside.
"Turn to the right."
It was maybe the most beautiful sight I'd ev'r seen. Deputy Draeher hogtied and doused in urine. Dunny followed behind me as I approach'd the deputy, who'd thankfully been left alive. I saw my old LeMat lying just to the left of Draeher's shoulder. Dunny always 'ad a flair for the dramatic. 'e says it came from his fondness for travelin' theatres.
As I stood there, staring at the gun, I notic'd the sun 'id behind the bell tow'r in the town square. That meant it was past noon. If the plan was still to ride down into New Mexico, then we 'ad lil' time.
"Give us a minute, Dunny." I wanted to be left alone for this part. Dunny knew I 'ated performing. A man takes anoth'r man's life, there's no need for it t'be a spectacle. It's somethin' meant to be kept b'tween the man who walks and 'is gun. If you had no part in it, you 'ave no business r'membrin' it. Anoth'r reason Draeher touches my last nerve. Anyone who pays attention could tell ya 'e never fired 'is well-cleaned pistol in all 'is life. 'e strut about as if 'e knew what it was like to 'old the fastest gun. As if 'e knew the look a man gives when ya stare 'im down cold and beat 'im to the trigger. 'e lost all the land's respect the day 'e lied about it. I wanted 'im to know that before I killed 'im.
"Wake up, deputy," I kicked 'im awake, "I won't shoot a man asleep."
"You gonna kill another lawman, Darby," 'e asks, seeing I got my gun in 'and.
"First, I want ya to know why."
"Oh, I know why," 'e struggles to sit up, "because you ain't nothing but a cold-hearted outlaw, and if your freak-loving friend hadn't got the drop on us, you'd be hanging by now."
I took a moment to let 'is words sink'n. "I'm gonna kill ya, because you're a d'sgrace to da badge, to da West, and to da townsfolk who fur some reason trust'd ya to pr'tect 'em."
I think 'e was about to say sumthin' back. Can't be certain. After I said m'piece, I pulled the trigger. Didn't think twice.
"Can we go now?" Dunny shouted, bringin' the 'orses 'round.
"You're really in'a rush t'see dis gurl, 'uh?"
"It's her birthday. I ain't missin' two in a row, Darby."
"Well, maybe next time, don't take so long to find me," I said to 'im as we rode off.
"Next time," 'e points 'is fing'r at me like it's 'is gun, "don't get caught."
We rode south int' Arizona. Took us a few days long'r 'cause one of the 'orses died on us. Made a stop in Phoenix fur some rest. Lucky for us, sum nearby farmers were sellin' their old Stallion.
"Thirteen," Dunny offered fur the 'orse.
"Fifteen," they counter'd.
"Thirteen," Dunny spoke sternly as 'e reach'd int' 'is bag. A quick bit of fear 'it the farmers before Dunny calm'd 'im down. "Thirteen," 'e spoke nicely now, "and you can have this bread for your sons."
Farmers agreed, so Dunny gave 'em the thirteen and we rode out. We 'it a bit of a stall in Tuscon, though. Couple of them marshalls caught wind of our antics and tried gettin' a drop on us. They challeng'd us right in the middle of a damn bar. We was havin' a nice drink when they walked in.
"Elias Darby! Wencil Duncan!" Their shouts quiet'd the room. Dunny turn'd 'round in ag'r. Nuthin' 'e 'ated more than 'earin' 'is own name from the lips of 'em lawmen.
"Federal marshalls," they spoke as'f we couldn't tell from their threads. "We're placing the both of you under arrest."
"That's rich." Dunny stood off the bar stool. "If you want us," 'e finishes 'is drink, "come and take us."
Didn't take long to deal with 'em. Dunny shot the two of 'em dead b'fore eith'r could fire a b'llet. As we walk'd out, I saw one of 'em 'ad manag'd to un'olster 'is pistol. I was almost impress'd. If they'd shown a few drinks later, they might'uh got us. No sense in dwellin' on 'em, though. We 'opped on the 'orses and arriv'd in New Mexico a week later.
I followed Dunny to an old shack by the Grande River. Right where 'is girl was s'ppos'd t'be waitin'. We sat atop our 'orses for a moment, lettin' the dust settle. The barest image caught my eye. Just b'hind the shack was'n unmark'd tombstone. It all b'came clear why this trip was so import'nt.
After 'e dismounts 'is 'orse, 'e said to me, "Thank you."
First time 'e did that.
