The Gunfighter 1.1 of 1.5

Prelude to the tale.

I had to admit this short tale took me two days to write ( no applauds please....It just came on and on. ). And the plot kept on evolving till I ended it just now. This is my contribution to all of you who had made this blog hit the number past the 20,000 mark some days ago, and thank you. ( now you may applaud.... for all of us who enjoy a good tale. )

Please come back for more and let us explore the world of the imagination.

No, ladies, it not SX-18. It PG; that's au pair guarantee. Read it and enjoyed yourself.

The Hidden Gateway of Yellow Creek

Jimmy Loong

August 2013

1.

Yellow Creek have never had such an event that grand before since Kit Carson rode in to stay overnight. This time it was the gunfight between two; one on the side of the badge while the other was a criminal. They had agreed on a noon shootout on the main street. The words had spread to the town folks with them all placing bets on the survival of the gunfight. That morning, the main hotel in the town opened its door earlier with the morning servings for the morning crowd but no one turned up. The town street was empty except for two group of observers; the local sheriff and his three deputies with their rifles cradled on their arms. The other group was the four cowhands with their hands on their gun belts.

"Gannon, did you reckon they would be disrupting the gunfight?" Sheriff Gannon looked at his newly deputized officer. Mason was normally the blacksmith but since he was one deputy short today, he asked the later to assist. Mason was a former Ranger but he had many fights with his faithful Winchester 73. Sheriff was to reply when his other assistant, Deputy Ian motioned to him that the gunfight was to begin. The sheriff stepped out to the street and looked to the hotel entrance.

Mack Rook stepped out of the hotel door and adjusted his wide brimmed hat. He then smooth out the bread crumbs from his dark shield front shirt before he checked his gun belt that held his pistols in the fast draw holster. He took out the pistol on his right holster; .45 Peacemaker, and the .30-.30 caliber lever action. He likes to make sure his guns are well oiled and loaded without any duds in the chamber. He stepped to the street on checking his pistol and walked towards the center of the street. He saw his opponent was not on time, but he does not want to be told that he was late for his fight. He was to stepped back to the shade of the shops when he saw Gabe Regan had appeared from the barn. The other was dressed in black like him, but his shirt was a plain one favored by cowhands with the cravat on his neck. Both gunfighters took their stride towards each other and stopped at twenty paces.

They took their stance while looking at each other. The southern wind blew in from the rear of Gabe towards Mack but the later lowered his face to avoid the dust into his eyes. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the draw. The sun was scorching hot at that hour, but the wind had dusted off any feel of the heat. A misplaced desert tortoise plodded it walk across the deserted street, with its slow pace making the progress across the street a lonely journey.

It was then the church bells rang to signify the time was on. At the last pull of the bell, Gabe reached for his pistol, but his adversary had moved from the position. Mack had spread out his legs while bending it with a lean to the left. Mack's draw had his pistol out during his move and pulled the trigger during the roll. Gabe had drawn first but his aim was towards the last position. The shot placed by Gabe missed Mack by a fraction off his right shoulder but Mack's shot was on target at the right shoulder of the other.

Gabe dropped his pistol and reached for his shoulder wound while Mack straighten up his frame before walking over. He looked at the wounded man, and kicked at the dropped pistol. He was to speak to Gabe when the cowhands stepped over.

"Gabe Regan, we have a bone to picked with you." The three cowhands had walked to the wounded gunfighter, but the timely intervention of the sheriff stopped them.

"Brand,  stop there." Sheriff Gannon looked to the three cowhands while his own deputy had their rifles leveled at them. "I am taking in Gabe to see the doctor. If you have a bone to pick, then do it after his recovery."

With that, the sheriff took the wounded man to the nearby doctor office. The three cowhands had more sense to argue with the sheriff. Meantime, Mack walked to the hotel to retrieved his personal effects. Once he had stepped in past the hotel door, he was greeted by the lady in a maroon dress holding a derringer on him.

"Mack Rook, you caused me to lose my earnings." The lady raised her hand holding the derringer. Mack reached for his pistol but held on the trigger, when the lady' had dropped her gun. The lady had her right elbow knocked by the brolly held by the owner of the Hotel.

"Nobody shoots my guest, not here or not anytime." The voice belonged to Madame Kate, the owner of the Sitting Bull Hotel and Saloon. "Jake, throw this lady out. We ain't taking non paying guests."

Mack looked to the Hotel owner; a widow on the early death of her husband after less than three months of marriage. She got the hotel to manage and had done a reasonable work. With her young looks and age, she was approached by some eligible man but none was to her liking. Not till the man named the Gunfighter rode into town. Mack had stayed on since that day; his fifth night in the town. He walked up to the bar and asked for the drink.

"Jake, put it on my tab. Leave him the bottle. He deserved one for removing Gabe off the list." Kate told her staff. She then slide over on the bar counter to start up a conversation.

"Why did you move before you shoot?" Kate asked him.

"Gabe had been known to shoot for the right shoulder. He had not killed any one unless he had to." Mack replied as he gulped down the second glass. "I only kill if the person deserved it."

With that, Mack took to the stairs leading to the hotel rooms upstairs. Kate meanwhile went to the back of the hotel. Mack stepped into his room and walked to the bowl of water kept there for his washing. He took off his hat and then his unbuttoned his shirt. He walked over to the bowl to rinsed his face of the dirt.

That was when he felt the pain in his chest. It was sudden and excruciating like before. He went down on his elbow to eased on the pain, drawing his face expression to pale with it. He felt the soft hands on his shoulder which eased the pressure off his mind. The pain subsided gradually before he was able to stand up. He turned his body to look at her.

"You could had knocked." He was expecting no replies as there was doors in the hotel which Kate could not unlocked. Or hearts in the body if she was to looked for it.

"How was it?" Kate had step forward to hold the man she had once met and forgotten for over eight years ago. He reached for her back and held her firmly. Only Kate knew of his pain. A momento of the past when he took the bullet meant for her. The bullet remained in his chest but it would not kill him just yet. Maybe one day when it decided to move close to the heart, but till then his heart was for her.

Kate Matthew was his love but the difference in age stopped her father from allowing her to be married to a drifter and ex-army officer. Bradley Mathew was Mack' commanding officer when he was in the calvary and he forbid any of his officers from even approaching his young daughter, even though he saved her from a drunken cowhand who was shooting at her. There were no obstacles that could prevent two young lovers to meet in the dark and looked to the moon as the sanctuary of their escapade. That was to end when her father found out. He asked for Mack to be re-assigned to a new command and ceased all communications between the two. A year later Mack came back to see his love, but Bradley Mathew had died in an Indian attack and his daughter was sent back East with the living relatives. There was no forwarding address.

Mack Rook resigned his commission and went to the new frontier. Soon he established himself as a gunfighter and held the position of the US Marshall for some time. But his heart was never in his work, so he became a drifter; sometimes a cowhand, or a railroad buffalo hunter. It was all fine until he heard that Gabe Regan shot his friend in cold blood. He pursue Gabe to Yellow Creek, but he found another whom he was to stayed on.

"Are you leaving soon?" Kate whispered to him as she held on tight to him. "We could leave together. Jake can managed for me."

Mack holding onto her, fetch his heart throbbed on her words. He knew that he could not bear to leave her, not after having found her after that many years. He also knew that as a gunfighter, his life was to be decided on the draw or a bullet in the back. Or even the bullet in him. He could not bear to see her being a widow once more. They had consummated their love on the second night of his stay and since then, but those were just their lust and not their love.

"I have to leave for Denver soon. There is a job there." Mack pushed her off him. "You won't fit in."

"Mack, I would fit in wherever you are. Please do not let me go." Kate pushed her body onto him. "I hate my life. My marriage to the man. The days and nights of suffering under him. Please don't do this to me."

There was a knock on the door.

Mack pulled Kate away who stepped back towards the other side of the room. He then went over to opened the door. It was Sheriff Gannon.

"Mack, there been another one. We caught the killer. It was never Gabe."