Two people can accomplish more than twice as much as one; they get a better return for their labor.” — Ecclesiastes 4:9 (NLT)
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I didn’t say anything else, but quickly snapped the handcuffs on the wrists of so-called John Smith. He jerked back, but it was too late, the cuffs were already on and tight.
“Why’d you do that for? I’m not part of McGinnis’ gang!”
All I could do is smile then replied, “We’ll let the courts and a jury decide that.”
“No, you can’t…”
I was up and back over where Doc was working on McGinnis who was now conscious. “What’s the verdict?” I inquired, looking down at the bloody man.
“He’s fortunate, there’s no place where the lead hit a vein or artery. He might never regain full use of that arm, a couple of pieces tore up the joint, but he should live barring infection,” he paused to glance at my shoulder. “I need to get you patched up.”
“Let’s wait until we get down to the jail, then you can sew me up.” I took a step up on one of the chairs and hollered, “As of now, and further notice, this saloon is officially closed!” There was some grumbling but men started moving toward the doorway. One man, holding his arm, looked my direction. I nodded, then waved for him to come to me.
When he approached I stepped down off the chair as most of the crowd was out the door. “You all right?” I asked, then looked at the Doc.
“Bullet went right through the meaty part of his arm. He’ll be okay, but won’t be swinging any hammers for a while.”
My attention went back to the wounded man. “Got a name?”
“Osian Beavin,” he answered with a slight accent. “That’ll be up to the boss if’n he has anything that I can do.”
He wasn’t downcast or anxious over the situation. “You get fired come on down to Durango, I’ll see that you get some work to see you through.”
“I’d be grateful to yuh, Marshal,” he said half-smiling. “Just in the right place at the wrong time, or something like that.” He nodded then turned to leave bumping into the undertaker on the way out.
He turned in my direction shaking his head. “Marshal, it seems that you have the tendency to throw work my way.”
“Mister Lawton, I leave the deceased in your hands. Make sure the place is locked up when you leave. I imagine the keys are behind the bar or on the corpse on the floor.”
My attention went back to the doctor and McGinnis, “Let’s go down to the jail.” I grabbed John Smith by the collar and started for the door.
There was grumbling behind me from McGinnis. “I can’t walk, I hurt too bad.”
Lifting the Greener, I turned to McGinnis, “You walk, stumble, or crawl, but if you can’t make it I’ll give you a thump and drag you.”
He lowered his head and began to shuffle towards the entrance with the doc next to him.
On the way I had to have Smith help the Doc half carry McGinnis to the jail, but we made it and it only took a couple of hard bangs on the door and my hollering for Tanner to open it up. “Hey, Charlie, I brought you some company.”
The deputy was wide-eyed, still nervous and looked out the door to see if any one was following us. “Yur alive?” he muttered.
“Yep, the good Lord sent a band of angels to watch over me. Evil was put in its place for the time bein’. Now help me get these two situated.”
Within minutes we had the two in cells. Doc checked McGinnis again to make sure that he wasn’t bleeding and told me to sit and found a groove on my shoulder just below the bone. It was deep enough that he had to sew it up. While he was doing that I thought, “another scar to add to the collection.” I sighed, “Lord, what am I goin’ to look like when I reach heaven?”
“What’s that you said?” asked the doctor. I hadn’t realized I had spoken out loud.
“Just askin’ the good Lord a question.”
With that, the doctor touched my head. I smiled.
In a few minutes, he left and I talked to Charlie who was sitting up on his cot. “Charlie, we have to do something about this den of iniquity. What’s that, four marshals in the last two years and Masterson didn’t want to stay either.”
He looked at me, then at his badge…