Chapter 10

I walked into the Lucky Card saloon with my shotgun in my left hand and my right hand free to draw my revolver or to use my shotgun as the situation required. The three men who had visited the restaurant earlier that day were sitting at a table with a fourth man whom I recognized as being Jason Lord. Lord was a scheming lawyer that nobody trusted, and a lot of us wondered how he managed to make a living.

I guessed that Lord was running the protection racket, and that fit in with what I knew of his character. He was deeply into conversation with his minions as they each nursed a beer. I waited for a few minutes to be sure that there was not someone else who would join them. I wanted to catch the whole bunch together, and that was the reason why I waited. To keep down suspicion, I did order a beer while I stood at the bar and watched the quartet in the mirror.

I finally reacted when it looked like the meeting was breaking up. I walked up to the table and said, "You four galoots owe me the cost of replacing a window. The bill will come to $4.37, and I want the money now!"

Lord and the others looked at me, but the spokesman from this morning was the one who said, "Get yer ass out of my sight. Ya are too far away this time ta sucker punch me the way ya did this morning. Ifen ya do not leave now, I will teach ya how ta act around yer betters."

I just stood there and grinned at him. That must have been the worst thing that I could have done from the way he acted. He wore his revolver at his hip, so he had to stand up to bring it into action. I waited for him to reach his feet and start to draw his gun before I blasted a load of #00 buckshot into his chest and gut. At that range, there was almost no spread of the shot after it left the shotgun, and I estimate that eight or nine of the buckshot hit him in the gut with a spread of about six inches. That just bored a hole clean through him and spread blood and shit all over the wall behind him. The three other shot appeared to hit him a little higher on his chest, but it did not make any significant difference.

The other three men also jumped to their feet and pulled guns. Thank God, they were all single-action, because that gave me time to operate the pump on my Winchester and shoot each one of them with a load of buckshot. That took care of the four men at the table, but I had not taken into account that Lord would have a bodyguard not sitting at the table.

He fired his pistol at me, and hit me in the fleshy part of my left arm. God Damn! That hurt! I was caught by surprise at that and almost died for my carelessness. However, I was able to dive to one side and tip over a table to shelter behind. The bodyguard did the same thing, and we were now facing each other from behind table tops. Those table tops were able to stop even a .44-40 bullet propelled by black powder, and that was what the bodyguard was using. However, I was using shells loaded with smokeless powder, and I was about to put the increased penetrating power of that propellent to good use.

The bodyguard wasted a couple of shots at my table, but I just waited for his enthusiasm to die down while I reloaded. My Winchester shotgun was cocked and ready, so I swung into action as soon as he paused in his shooting. I could not see him, but I knew where he had to be behind that overturned table. As quickly as I could, I pumped, aimed, and fired three loads of #00 buckshot into the same place on the table top.

The second blast punched a hole through the table top, and the third shot flew into the bodyguard hiding back there. He let out a yelp of pain, so I knew that I had winged him, at least. At this point, I had two shells left in the shotgun. I quickly reloaded and awaited developments. A shell was ready and waiting for my next shot, so I just sat behind my table to see what would happen.

Nothing did happen, so I ran out of patience. I stood up, but I kept my shotgun handy for another quick shot if I needed one. Very carefully, I worked my way around the two tipped over tables and approached the wounded bodyguard. At the time, I did not know where he had been hit, so I tried to be prepared for anything that he would do. Well, the damned fool tried to shoot me!

I gave him a blast to the head with my shotgun, and I made such a mess that it looked like I had decapitated the man. Some blood pumped from his neck, but his heart stopped pumping quickly enough to keep from spurting very much blood around the room.

By this time, a deputy marshal was standing just outside the front door waiting for the shooting to die down before sticking his nose into the chaos. I shouted "ALL CLEAR!" after I saw what my last shot had done to the bodyguard, and the deputy marshal came into the saloon. I told him my version of what had happened, and why I was there in the first place. Witnesses verified my story, so the deputy marshal was satisfied that I fit the legal technicalities of self-defense.

He had heard about the protection racket from several of the business owners, so he thanked me for nipping that in the bud. As was my prerogative, I took what valuables the dead men had been carrying. I got enough money to pay for replacing the window, and I picked up an excellent watch from Jason Lord.

All of the adrenaline and general excitement now backed off enough for me to feel the pain in my left arm. I left the deputy to take care of the details while I went home to have my arm looked after. I got a mixed reception. Of course, my wound was treated with all of the care and tenderness that the two women had, and I even received a drink of laudanum, but I was also berated up, down, and sideways for my carelessness in allowing myself to be shot. I was suitably contrite about that and promised never to let it happen again. That was enough to take the pressure off me, and I was again hugged and kissed just about as much as I could stand. I was helped to bed, and I went directly to sleep, probably because of the laudanum; I was not used to the opium or the alcohol that it contained.