The man jerked his arm off Molly and swung a roundhouse at me. Easily I ducked under it, but I had to do something quick with the other men who were rushing me. Fortunately, one ran into the man who took the swing and I was able to grab a chair that was there against the wall and with all my might I struck the man. He went down in a lump and laid there, giving me a moment to get my bearings. The chair had broken off and I still had a piece of it in my hands.
It wasn’t looking good, but at least one was out for a little while. I’m not a big man, but I’ve been in my share of brawls and I’ve found that often the first to strike and to do it with audacity often wins the fight. Both of the men I was facing were bigger than me, but they also had a little too much of the devil’s juice in them. Instead of letting them come at me I rushed swinging the chair leg like a club.
I concentrated my blows on the man who accostosted Molly, but that left my side vulnerable to the blows of the other man. They weren’t expecting my aggression and both took a step backward as I rushed. The man I was bludgeoning backed away holding his head, that gave me time to concentrate on the other. I wasn’t fast enough and caught a fist alongside the jaw. One thing, even though the smaller man, I was able to take a punch. Instead of swinging the chair leg like a club I used it as a spear and rammed it right in the breadbasket then followed with a thrust toward the face catching the man’s lower lip taking out some of his teeth. Both of them were bent over holding their injuries, the one bleeding from the mouth. The shame of it was that the man who started it all came out the least hurt.
Glaring at him I faked a step toward him, but a grunt from the man on the ground took my attention. I looked at him then thumped him once more on the head. The other two men started backing up. I threw the chair leg as hard as I could toward the instigator hitting him square in the back. They took off, almost knocking people over who had stopped to watch the fracas, leaving their compadre unconscious.
I looked over at Molly who was giving me a look somewhere between a frown and concern. I just had to give her one of my grandest smiles, then took her arm. “Come along, dear. Let’s move away from these ruffians,” I said with a snicker.
“Miles, we’re in a strange town and you find yourself in trouble. Why am I not surprised?”
“Trouble?” I responded. “Tweren’t nothing, but I was a mite concerned with three of them. Good thing they were some tipsy or it could have gone the other way. I’m still hungry, how ’bout you?”
The crowd was now dispersing, the fun gone, and let us through. We walked down three buildings where we entered the cafe. A matronly-looking woman came to take our order bringing coffee with her. Molly settled on the rainbow trout and I ordered a porterhouse. She wasn’t unfriendly, reckon she had things on her mind, but I couldn’t get a smile from her. I stopped her before she went to the kitchen, “Be sure and save a piece of pie for me.”
I looked around the room and nodded at some men at one table, and a couple sitting at another. Always try to put out my good side. The waitress returned. “No pie!” she declared. “The last piece was et this mornin’. Try Cecil’s Eatery, she tries to keep pie on hand.”
That name sounded familiar, but I just couldn’t recollect. Been a lot of names through the years and they’re floating around in my noggin not lighting anywhere. “How about Tor Vincent, he still sheriff?”
She shook her head. “He was jumped a year ago outside the Silver Slipper. Beat to death he was. Sheriff now is Bill Turner.” Before I could say anything else she turned back toward the kitchen.
When I turned back to look at Molly she was slowly shaking her head. “The Lord sure does smile down on foolish men,” she declared.
I gave her a quizzical look.
“Three men jumped and killed the sheriff…”