Ways of the West

Chapter 1Sheriff Bill Hawkins could hear them singing down at the church. The Sheriff was hardly a religious man, but he liked to hear all those voices singing in unison of a Sunday. It gave him the feeling there were lots of good people in the town, all of them with the same idea in their minds. He'd never been tempted to attend any of the services himself, but he respected those who did. Even if, as had happened today, the noise they made disturbed his slumbers. He liked to think of the good people of Monkford all huddling into the small church, to praise the Lord. Liked to think of them all being happy in their time of worship. Liked to think of them being happy in their faith in the Lord as well as in themselves and their town. He got up out of bed and shook his head. Still a little groggy from the previous night's drinking, he went over to the sink and splashed some water on his face. He was just putting his trousers on, when the singing stopped abruptly. Something didn't feel right, he thought. Why had it stopped like that? Hawkins went over to the window and peered out. The sun was already up, and the street was empty of life down below. Something was up: he could feel it in his gut. And whatever it was, he didn't like it. He finished dressing in a hurry, tied on his g*n belt, with his vintage Colt in the holster, and hurried out of the house. His boots raised the dust as he made his way along the main drag. He heard the neighing of a horse as he passed the livery stable. Nothing going on at the bank, as you'd expect on a Sunday. Just then, the batwings of the saloon opened, and Ben Culler came out. Hawkins looked over, and Culler tipped his hat and said, 'Sheriff.' 'Ben,' Sheriff Hawkins said. 'You seen anything happenin' that shouldn't be? Culler shook his head. 'No, I just been havin' myself a little whiskey, to praise the good Lord in my own quiet way.' 'Seen Steve?' Culler's bony face creased in a smile. 'Sleeping off what he drunk last night I shouldn't wonder.' Hawkins didn't have time to go round to Steve's place and get him out of bed. Whatever was happening at the church called for his urgent attention. Sensing there wasn't a moment to lose, he pressed on. As he passed the tailor's, he found himself hoping the singing would start up again. He would have liked to be able to turn around and go back to bed. His head was thumping, on account of last night's Bourbon, and he could really have used another couple of hours to sleep off his hangover. Then the singing resumed. Only somehow Sheriff Hawkins didn't like the sound of it. It wasn't the singing itself exactly that he didn't like. Hard to say what it was. Just a moment ago, he'd been hoping it would resume so he'd be able to turn around and go back to bed. Only he wasn't about to do that, not now. Now until he'd gone into the church, and checked that everything was as it should be. He wanted to see it with his own eyes. At that moment, three men emerged from the church. There must have been at least one hundred paces separating the Sheriff and the three men, but they didn't look like God-fearing folk to him. He reckoned he could tell, even at this distance, the sort they were. The no-good sort. The sort he didn't want to see in his town. And if he did see them, then he wanted to hurry up and see the back of them. Only here they were, just having come out of the church, and with the congregation once more booming out the hymn they'd stopped singing earlier. Every nerve in Hawkins's body told him something wasn't right. Men of this sort didn't attend church. And if they did, then…well, you knew they were up to no good. A fourth man emerged from the church, and he had a young woman with him. If the Sheriff's eyes weren't deceiving him, it looked like it was the Minister's wife, Kate. She was a fine figure of a woman, and a real good sort, too. And now here she was, with this no-good looking sort. Only it was clear she hadn't left the church with the man of her own choosing. The shove the man gave her in the back would have set Sheriff Hawkins straight on that score, if he hadn't already been wise to the situation. Then he saw that she had her hands tied behind her back, and that the man had his g*n out. Realizing that he was hopelessly outnumbered, Hawkins knew he had to think fast. It would be no good trying to take the four of them all by himself, here, outside the church. They'd g*n him down as easy as a you'd squat a fly. He might be fast enough to take out one or maybe even two of them, but he'd never get all four. He turned and hurried down to the store, which was at the far end of the street, near to the bank. Got to the door just as John Collins, the man who ran it, was about to close for the day. 'Good idea, John,' Hawkins said. 'Better let me in before you lock up, though. Wouldn't want to turn away one of your best customers, I'm sure.' The man looked uneasy and put out, but realizing he could hardly turn away the Sheriff, he allowed Hawkins to enter, before locking up for the day. 'Man with a nose for trouble like yours'd make a good sheriff, John.' 'I don't want any trouble.' The storekeeper's eyes were alive with fear. 'No more do I,' Hawkins said. 'But like it or not, trouble's what we got.' The storekeeper pulled the curtain aside and peered out through the window at the street. 'There they come,' he said. 'They've got a woman with them…it's the Minister's wife.' Peering out over the head of the diminutive storekeeper, the Sheriff saw the four men coming this way down the main drag, casting shadows before them and taking their time like they had no reason to hurry. The Minister's wife, Kate Sherrin, walked just ahead of them, and whenever she slowed one of them would speed her up with a shove in the back. The men were spread out, and looked like they reckoned they owned the place. Like the town of Monkford was all theirs to do with as they pleased. Hawkins knew it was up to him to put a stop to what these men were up to; but he couldn't do it single-handed, and he didn't know if he could count on anyone else to lend him a hand. He could sure have done with his Deputy, Steve, being here right now. But he wasn't here, and so Hawkins knew he'd just have to make-do as best he could. 'I wonder what they're going to do?' the storekeeper said. Without taking his eyes off the four men, as he continued to peer out the window, Hawkins said, 'I'd lay money they're headed for the bank.' 'They're going to rob it, you mean?' 'Shouldn't wonder.' 'And why do you reckon they've got the woman with them?' 'They'll be figuring on using her as a shield if they have to.' 'To stop anyone shooting at them?' Seeing that Sheriff Hawkins wasn't about to respond, the storekeeper said, 'Don't reckon they're planning on killing her, do you?' 'I hadn't got to thinkin' that far ahead, John.' 'But I bet they must have done.' Once more Hawkins chose not to respond, and the storekeeper said, 'Thought ahead, I mean.' 'What I'm trying to do now.' 'Huh…?' 'Think ahead.' 'Oh.' Still without taking his eyes off the four men, Sheriff Hawkins said, 'Go and get me your rifle, John.' 'But I don't want any trouble, Sheriff.' 'Little late for that, I'm afraid.' 'Can't we just stay here and wait until this has all passed over.' 'Let those no-goods just go ahead and rob the bank, you mean?' 'There's four of them and only one of you,' John Collins said. 'Yeah, but now I've got you with me that makes two of us.' 'I've never been a fighter, Sheriff. You should know that.' 'There's times when a man don't have no choice, John,' Hawkins said. 'And this is one of them times.' 'But they've got the woman,' the storekeeper said. 'They might use her as a human shield like you said…if you shoot at them, I mean.' 'What'd you propose we do, then, John?' Hawkins asked. 'Just let them no-good sonsofbitches do as they please?' 'Well no, not exactly, but…' 'Good, so go and get your rifle and your g*n and any ammunition you've got.' 'How did you know I've got a rifle and a g*n?' 'I know everything about this town.' 'How on earth did you get to know so much?' 'I'm the Sheriff here, case you didn't already know it, and it's my place to know things. Now will you stop your whining and hurry up and do as I say.' The storekeeper sure didn't seem happy about it, but he relented even so, and went and got his Winchester and his Colt. He looked at the weapons he was holding and said, 'I sure was never planning on using these.' 'Just figured on having 'em about the place as ornaments, that it?' 'Well not exactly, no.' 'Well, then,' Hawkins said. 'Man like you buys himself a rifle and a g*n 'cause he knows deep inside him he might need them someday. Ain't that so?' 'Well I guess so, Sheriff…although to tell the truth, I've never really got around to thinking about these things much.' 'Sure you have, John. You think about them every night when you're wrapped up in your bed. You wonder about what would happen if an intruder comes into the house. Then you think about your guns and it kinda reassures you a little. Only then you get to wonderin' whether you'd use 'em or not, don't you? Admit it.' 'Well okay, I suppose thoughts like that have crossed my mind from time to time, Sheriff.' 'And now's that time, John,' Hawkins said. 'The time you hoped would never come, but that you figured surely would come one day.' 'So now what?' 'You can start by loading your weapons.' 'They're already loaded.' 'Good man…that case you're already well prepared.' The storekeeper's weapons might be so, but a glance at John Collins's face should have been sufficient to tell the Sheriff that the man himself was anything but ready for the situation at hand. But ready or not, he was in it and he was all Sheriff Hawkins had right now by way of a helper, and so the man was going to have to play his part and play it right. Just then, a man's voice cried, 'Come back here!' If the Sheriff wasn't mistaken, it was the voice of the Minister he'd just heard. He figured the four desperadoes would have held the congregation at gunpoint and robbed the good people there of everything they had on them. They would have taken any jewellery the women were wearing, and forced the men to hand over their wallets. One of them would probably have grabbed the Minister's wife and tied her hands, and another would have held a g*n to her head while the others made their collection round. It was a nasty trick to play on decent, God-fearing folk while they were at church, and it took mean sorts to pull it off. And these four looked about as mean as they come. Now the Minister was shouting at them, demanding that they let his wife go. 'The Lord will deliver your souls to Hell,' the Minister cried, 'if you persist in your evil-doing.' He was walking up the main drag behind them. The Sheriff figured they must have tied the man up, but that people in the congregation had set him free and now here he was. The four men carried on walking down the main drag as if they were deaf to the Minister's warnings and entreaties. Without taking his eyes off the scene out in the street, Sheriff Hawkins said, 'Give me the Winchester, John.' He hefted the rifle, then held it up and sighted along its barrel. 'Go over to the other window,' he said. 'The moment you see me shoot, I need you to start firing, too.' 'But what about the woman?' 'Be sure not to hit her.' 'But I've never been much of a shot.' 'I've got faith in you, John.' Even if that wasn't exactly true, the Sheriff knew that being negative and lacking in confidence never got a man anywhere.