So I saw that there is nothing better for people than to be happy in their work. That is why they are here! No one will bring them back from death to enjoy life in the future.”
–Ecclesiastes 3:22, NLT
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He fired! Too quickly. I had learned through many years of experience to make the first shot count–which I did. My return shot hit him, but I couldn’t tell where. My second shot found its mark on his lower left side. The man sagged, eyes glaring to the floor of the wooden porch. With the shots I looked around, but guns fired in Silverton was not a big thing.
The door opened and Doc Minton hollered out, “What in tarnation….” Then he looked down to see the body on the porch. I moved his direction as he stooped down to examine the body. “Here, help me get him inside.”
Holstering my pistol, I set the Greener by the front door and helped the doctor lift the man into his office. The man was moaning as I turned to retrieve my shotgun leaving the doctor with him. Upon my return I heard the man in whispered voice, “I don’t want to die. Help me…”
“Son, I won’t lie to you. You’re in bad shape and there’s not much I can do for you,” replied Doc Minton.
I looked at the man who I could see was a bloody mess. The doctor looked at me, shaking his head. “That one bullet hit his gun, taking the hammer off making it a piece of shrapnel tearing into his chest,” he informed me. “The second one, well, you know what it did.”
The man was trying to talk, but words were not coming out. Finally, he put a hand to the pocket on his shirt. “My mother’s address, tell her that, that, I died a good man. She doesn’t know that I went to the bad.”
“Listen,” I leaned forward hoping that he could hear me, “if you’re not right with the Lord you best be doin’ it quick.”
“Let him die in peace, for goodness sake!” exclaimed the doctor.
Not taking my eyes from the dying man, I simply stated, “That’s what I’m tryin’ to do.” He was a young man, not more than twenty, if that. “Ask Jesus to save you, then you can go in peace.”
He reached up, gripping me by his good hand, eyes widening. “Really, that’s all…”
“That’s all,” and upon saying that, there was the hint of a smile on his face and then the light of life went from him.
“What are you?” snapped the doctor with bitterness in his voice. “A preacher or a lawdog? Is that how you get your peace, shoot them then try to save them?”
I took the hand from the man grasping onto my jacket and lowered it to his chest. “Doc, I take no joy in takin’ the life of anyone. I take even less joy in knowin’ that I might send them to their Maker unprepared to meet Him.” Straightening up, I asked. “Do you know him?”
The doctor shook his head, then started going through the man’s pockets. He found the letter in the pocket addressed to a Mrs. Doris Wingate of Canton, Ohio. He glanced at the letter inside, looking first to the signature. It read, “Your darling son, Colin.”
“Colin Wingate?” I questioned in a solemn tone.
I wasn’t expecting an answer, so I turned to go back to my duty. “I’ll be back, see if you can gain some information about the man. If you don’t want to write the letter to his mother I will.”
The doctor muttered something I couldn’t make out, then said. “If you’re going after McGinnis, he won’t be as easy as this.”
I nodded, gave a slight smile and answered, “Most likely not.” Then walked to the door. “I’m sorry to say, but you need to be expectin’ more business,” and with that I walked on out to only what the Lord knows.