Chapter 6: "My first range war"

"Howdy, Mr. Holbein? I have just been hired as a shootist by Mr. Rogers. He said that I should see you about getting squared away."

"That is fine with me. What do I call you? I do not know your name."

"My name is Hiram Thomas, but lately I have been going by The Twin Oaks Kid."

"Well, I can agree that Hiram is not a name that inspires much awe, but The Twin Oaks Kid is much better. Suppose I call you 'Twin Oaks.' How does that sound? You can call me 'Jake.'"

"That sounds good to me, Jake. Now, could you show me where to bunk? Tomorrow, I will go back to my boarding house to pick up my stuff."

I spent the rest of the day getting to know the rest of the hands at the Bar 59 and getting some idea of the layout of the ranch. Truthfully, it was not a place that grabbed my interest, but I was told that it would be a beautiful place once the rains came back. I guess that was correct, but I was not going to hold my breath until the rains came.

Mr. Rogers was older than I first took him to be. The only member of his family still living at the ranch was his wife. He had two daughters what were married and gone to live with their husbands at their own places, and his only son had been killed in Virginia during the War of Yankee Aggression. I figured that the only reason that he was fighting his neighbor was the principle of the thing. He could easily sell out and move to town any time he wanted to.

On the other hand, that Maddox character was truly an SOB (Son of a Bitch) if there ever was one. Of course, I was only hearing the Rogers' side of the argument, but I was still impressed with how bad Maddox was. He had two sons, and neither one of them appeared to be an improvement over their father. It looked to me like I was going to have to deal with three men, not just one, if I was going to give Mr. Rogers what he wanted.

When I went in to El Paso to give my notice to Mrs. Jones, I told her my reason for leaving was that I had a job at the Bar 59. Everybody in town knew about the trouble between Rogers and Maddox, so she knew exactly what my job was. I stopped by a restaurant for lunch and was amazed to hear that Rogers had hired a shootist to take care of Maddox. Dammit, word really gets around fast when it is about somebody getting shot at.

I was in no hurry to get back to the Bar 59 until supper time, so I spent an hour or so in a couple of different saloons. I was asked about it, and I did admit that I was the shootist hired by Rogers. That shows you how naïve I was! As I got older, I learned to keep my mouth shut, but not at this early age. I simply did not know that it would make any difference.

Anyway, as I was leaving the second saloon to return to the Bar 59, I was stopped by a galoot just a little older than me. He said, "I am Robert Maddox, and I hear that you have been hired to kill my pa. Is that true?"

"No, it ain't exactly true. I was hired to do to him what he did to Mr. Rogers, but I might wind up killing him in the process. Now, move out of my way, I want to leave."

"You son of a bitch, I will kill you for that!" With that, Robert Maddox tried to draw his pistol, but it was in a holster on his thigh, and he was further delayed by the leather thong used to secure the gun against falling out of the holster. I had no trouble drawing my own gun from my left shoulder holster before he had drawn his, and I put two bullets into him—one in his chest and one between his eyes.

There were two men with him who were older, but no wiser. Both of them tried to draw after I already had my gun in my hand, and I had no trouble giving each one of them two presents from my revolver. I used the same chest and head shot routine on both of them, so there was no question that they were dead.

Hardly were they dead before a man showed up wearing a badge and demanding to know what was going on. The bartender had seen and heard the entire encounter, and he gave a concise description of the gun battle. Obviously, this was not the first time he had been a witness to such a duel.

The deputy marshal nodded his head and accepted the assertion that I had acted in self defense. All he did was ask for six-bits to pay the undertaker for collecting the bodies. I did not object to that and paid him the 75¢ for the burials. I told him that he could find me at the Bar 59 if he needed anything else from me.

I rode out to the ranch and related at supper what had happened to me that day in El Paso. The consensus was that I had kicked a hornets' nest. Robert Maddox was the younger of the two Maddox boys, and a bit more hot-headed than his brother Mathew. However, Mathew was definitely the more dangerous of the two boys. He already had four known wins in duels, and nobody knew how many men he had killed on the sly. I was advised to be especially careful if I rode alone. There was no doubt that Mathew would come looking for me, so I had better be prepared at any time to defend myself.

It was five days later that I had my chance at Mathew. None of us could figure a way to get to Mathew or his father as long as they stayed on their ranch. The only solution that we could think of was for me to frequent the many saloons in El Paso and hope to draw Mathew to me in town.

I started doing that the day after the gun battle with Robert, and it did not take Mathew long to find me. I had limited myself to one beer a day during this time because I wanted nothing to slow me down when it came time to draw my gun.

I was sitting out of the way against the wall opposite the main entrance to the saloon when Mathew finally showed up. He came in with three tough looking men who were obviously not the run-of-the-mill ranch hand. Two of the three toughs were wearing two guns, but I was happy to see that they were all Colts.

I stood up as soon as Mathew and his crew were fully through the door. I was less afraid of facing them directly than I was of having one or more hide behind the door and shoot at me from there. Oh, yes, this definitely looked like I would probably need both of my guns before this day was over!

Mathew came striding into the room like he owned the world. He turned toward me when he saw me sitting with my back against the wall. I took no chances and stood up, not because it would be that much easier to draw my guns, but because it would be easier to dodge from side to side if I was standing rather than sitting. Of course, none of my foes took that factor into consideration.

The moment I stood up, Mathew said, "I am here to kill you, you filthy bastard! DRAW!"

Yes, the rumors were true! Mathew Maddox was damned fast! He had not made the stupid mistake his brother had made; Mathew had removed the retaining strap from his holster before he braced me. He was carrying his gun in the conventional position strapped to his thigh. Mathew was so fast that he had pulled his gun completely from the holster and had it half cocked when my first shot went off. I took no chances and put another bullet into his head before I looked to the men with him.

That was almost a fatal mistake! All three had started to draw their revolvers only moments after Mathew had made his move. I jumped to my left and fired a shot at the chest of the nearest man. I hit him, but not in the chest. The bullet caught him just below his belly button and he fell to the floor, bleeding profusely. That jump had adversely affected my aim, but it saved my life. The second man I shot was going to die, but it was going to take a while—maybe as much as three weeks if he was very unlucky.

I snapped off another shot and missed. Dammit, I had rushed the shot! I had two enemies left and two bullets left in this gun. At least, my two current opponents were slow to adapt to a changing situation. They both put bullets where I had been standing, not where I was now. I fired again, double-action of course, and this bullet was a bit better aimed. I hit one of the men in the shoulder. That was the side that held his gun, so it went flying. He still had another gun in his other holster, but I did not know how well he could shoot with his left hand. That man fell to the floor. I could not afford to take a chance, so I used the last bullet in my current weapon to blow a big hole in his head.