Stagecoach;Western write 7 of 15

7.

I was given my gun without my gun belt. That gave me six bullets to fight the Apaches. Everyone got a rifle; the Spencer rifles and bullets were handed to Mr. Hatfield and Mr, Hitch. Mr. Gatewood had join the Marshall.

I leaned on the stagecoach and waited. I was surprised then when Ms. Dallas joined me.

“Ain’t you afraid of me?” It sounded corny but I was out of conversation pieces. More so with ladies. I was not much of one, to begin with. I spent my time on the saddle herding cattle and in gunfights. Those were the facts that made me the Ringo Kid.

“Why should I be?” The lady had replied. Ms. Dallas reckoned with her trade, she seen the bad and worse if not the low-lying scums of the land. ‘

“Why did they call you the Kid? You ain’t no younger than most.” Ms. Dallas struck on the conversation. “I got a kid brother once who looked better than you.”

“You are really talking to me.” I started laughing. “Well, I was younger when they named me the Kid. Ringo Kid was the name I got tagged. My real name is Walther Drew. That was what my momma told me. My dad was in the railways but we stayed in the farm. I was tending to cattle at the age of ten, and …”

“Kid, all I said was I have a younger brother and was not keen to have another one.’ Ms. Dallas did not mince her words. I shrugged my shoulders and looked to the horizon.

“However, it's nice to meet with the real you, Mr. Drew.” Ms. Dallas extended her courtesy towards me. “I seldom have men telling me the truth.”

“Well, I reckon lying is not what I do to ladies. I …” I was snapped off.

“Reckon we will die today?” Ms Dallas was upfront. “I just want to know.”

“I dunno, ma’am. I lived day by day with the next day looking forward to seeing the sunset. I ain’t one that any ladies will call homebound…”

“So, we are going to die today? Will you shoot me first? I don’t want to be alive when the Apaches come for us.” I looked at the lady. She was the second to ask for it. I reckoned the rumors that the Apaches are at the worse when it comes to ladies. He had heard of it too among the other things the Apaches will do you if alive. I did wonder how much worse can it be from the folks I met on my journey. I had the companies of bushwhackers, murderers and gunfighters. The last count the worse when they are killing off from the other side of the law. You got a turf war for the water hole or the green pastures, you get them on your end. They are not guarding dogs but preying wolves ready to attack. Some of them have shown no quarters to anyone although among us the real gunfighters we don’t stoop to killing women and children. Or shoot one in the back. It was always facing to face for me.

When it comes to the Apaches or any of the other native Indians, I had befriended some and fought the few which came into fights with me. The word savages do showcase their fighting skills and not their manners. The Apaches are great fighters with their nomad livings, and the constant rivalry with the other tribes, they lived in constant fear of enemies. Like the creatures of the hard land there, they lived to survive with the bare necessities.

“You have not answered my question?” The lady threw me the challenge once more. I nodded.

“Yes, I will.” Funny how we promise others without thinking that it could be done. That done the lady stepped away. I was not to ask or look. My momma used to tell me that; “the lady needs her privacy”.

“Yes, momma,” I muttered to myself. I saw the doctor stepped out of the stagecoach. His steps were heavy and the stagecoach creaked to his weight. He closed the stagecoach door and then saw me standing there.

“Hello, Kid.” The doctor motioned to the pregnant lady inside the stagecoach. “She is resting. I gave her some medicine to take.”

I smiled at the doctor, and then looked at my wrists with the irons still there They were chafed from the irons and with my sweat over it, the wounds were aching.

“So, you have any for my wounds?” I asked.

“Kid, those are nothing compared to the hot sun and our soon to be death.” I disliked the doctor for being outright on our fate. Ever since I adopted the name Ringo Kid, I have strived to be optimistic in my approach.

“I am sure death ain’t a distant to your eyes.” I looked to the doctor who either baiting me for a fight or he was plain loony.

“No, I and Death are …. close kins.” I have seen those I killed in the eyes and then they closed forever. “You should b used to it too, Doc.”

“Me? I did say it. Death is my trade. I try to save lives but most times, it was too late.”

“That’s why you drink?” The question popped into my mouth.

“Uh…. I guess so. It keeps the dark visions off. No offense to you but I see them death upfront. I tell them go away but they kept on coming back.”

“Doc, you do save lives? It must have meant something to you.”

“Kid, I did. And fifteen years later, I buried that kid. He was my son.” Doctor Bone recalled his only son gunned down in a street gunfight. The kid had challenged the Plummer Kid. It was not that the Plummer Kid was fast but the doctor’s son was clumsy. He drew and shot but missed. The other Kid shot him. It was a fair fight. If you are in the Plummer’s town, it was seen that way. He resorted to drinking since then. He would have taken the flight to other places but he couldn’t leave his son all alone on Boot’s Hill. The trip he took with me was his return from the North East. He had to visit his mother’s funeral. She died of old age.

“Did you regret your son’s death?” I asked.

“No, I was not. He was a fool. I brought him life and he gave it up foolishly. So, are we going to die today?” The doctor asked.

“I am not sure. I have not seen any Apaches yet. And they are not foolish to die early.” I shook my head. Soon the call was made.

“Marshall, you sure the Apaches were there?” I heard Bucks asking the Marshall soon after we all boarded the stagecoach. The call was made soon after my conversation with the doctor and all cleared was called. The Marshall collected back the Spenser rifles and bullets. That was wise of him then for I do not trust the other two gentlemen. But the Marshall trusted no one. He took mine back too.

“Yes, I was.” Marshall Wilcox replied. It did not matter for we were on our way once more.