the Gentleman Gunfighter, C. F. Allison [best e reader for android .txt] 📗

just broken even at cards and the evening was starting to set in. He told John he was going to go down to the livery and see to happenings down there. John said he’d like to tag along and check that out himself. They each got a fresh bottle of whiskey apiece and walked to the stables where they could here the dance in progress. When they got to the entrance to the barn they could see all kinds of people dancing, drinking, and socializing. Just having a good time in general with their neighbors and friends. Then they noticed that there were even a few blue bellies in there laughing and going on as well. Clay still didn’t care much for them. He remembered what they did to Little Fawn every time he saw that uniform. He had drank just enough whiskey to get him into a harassing mood about it.” Well John” Clay said, “Everybody else is having fun. I recon I will too.” He then began dancing around the floor with himself and stomping on people’s feet as he made his rounds. John of course thought this was the funniest thing he ever saw, followed his brother’s lead, and began doing the same thing.

In the meanwhile, someone had already fled the dance in search of the Sheriff. Deputy Charles Faber was the first lawman to arrive on the scene. When he saw John he mistook him for the well-known gun fighter so he started to level his scattergun on him as to catch him off guard and get the drop on him before calling his attention. From the other end of the barn Clay saw a man raising a shotgun up from behind his brother. In that instant, a shot rang out and Faber hit the floor dead. John was hit by a blast from the shotgun when Faber was struck by the fatal bullet from Clay’s six-shooter. He had tensed his finger on the trigger as he fell, and the weapon went off striking John in the middle of his back. John’s wound wasn’t serious though Clay found out when he went over to see about his brother.

The High Sheriff had arrived on the scene by then. He took advantage of Clay’s concentration on his brother and snuck up behind him. He knocked him out cold with the butt end of his own six-shooter and had some volunteers drag him off to the local jail.

The sun was streaming in though the cells barred window and was glaring onto Clay’s face when he came too the next morning. Jail time was not kind to Clay. The Sheriff made it a point to torment him several times a day about the killing of his deputy and good friend. Every time he came into the jail he’d go to Allison’s cell and let him know he was going to hang for the killing. The Sheriff would go into detail of what happens to the human body when that rope snaps tight and the body reacts to it. The Sheriff kept telling Clay “I’m gonna see you hang for killing Charlie if it’s the last thing I do.”

Almost a week had gone by of the sheriff’s taunting when the circuit judge came into town to preside over the case in court. He could hear the town’s people talking as they walked pasted his cell window about how this judge was a hanging judge when it came to murderers and cattle thieves. Others passing by his window he could hear them say how fair he was on the evidence presented to him.

Clay was beginning to become a little more than concerned about weather this judge would be fair, or was he a friend of the sheriff. At least a good enough friend to get Clay’s neck stretched. All Clay kept hearing over and over in his mind was the sheriff saying “I’ll see you hang if it’s the last thing I do.” As the hours passed, Clay began to believe his time on earth was growing short. The sheriff came by his cell that evening to reassure Clay of his impending doom. He said “You get to go to court tomorrow and get your hanging date set. The circuit judge has been talking to all the witnesses all day, and going over your case file.” He went on to say. “You’re set for first thing in the morning to see the judge.” Clay felt sick at his stomach as his nerves balled up, but he would be damned if he was going to let it show. He just grinned at the sheriff and lied his head back on his pillow, pretending to go to sleep as if to say “Oh well.”

Clay had gotten no more than three hours sleep that night when the sun peeked its way over the town’s horizon the next morning. When his breakfast was bought to him Clay really didn’t have much of an appetite even though the ham and eggs really looked and smelled good. He was trying to get himself pulled together before he had to face the judge. He didn’t want to go into court unprepared, or looking scared or guilty.

It wasn’t very long before the sheriff and a couple of his deputies appeared in the doorway to collect him for his trial. They chained him up with wrist and ankle shackles and instructed him on how to proceed. Where to walk and how to walk. They also informed him to the fact that if he made one step in any direction other than where he was told to, then there would no longer be a need for any trial.

They then began their walk out of the jail and started down the street toward the local saloon about a block away. The town had no courthouse therefore as the law allowed for the times, all legal matters such as trails, and town meetings were held at the local saloon. There was no drinking or gambling allowed. Saloon girls were not allowed either during the proceedings. No saloon business of any kind was allowed to take place in fact to be in compliance with the law. This was the state law for towns with this kind of arrangement.

When Clay and the deputies walked into the saloon/court room everyone got quiet. It was an eerie silence that sent a chill down Clay’s spine that made him shiver. There were two tables facing another table in front of them. Each one of them had two chairs, a pitcher of water and some glasses on top of them and an ink well with a pen. On the table facing them there was a chair on each side of it and the same stuff as the other tables. To the right side of the room were twelve chairs with men sitting in them. In behind the two side by side tables were a bunch of chairs with the town’s people filling them up. There was also a bunch of people standing around because there were not enough chairs for everyone.

John was sitting at one side of one of the tables. The deputies ushered Clay over to sit next to him and he noticed John was not shackled. “What the hell are you doing here? You aint killed nobody John!” Clay inquired of his brother. John just looked at him and said “I’ve been mending at the doc’s place but they got me charged with disturbing the peace.” Right then, a deputy bellowed out “Shut up you two, court’s fixing to start up!” Then the other deputy began announcing “Here ye here ye, be it known to all persons this court is now in session. Remove all your hats. The bar and brothel is now closed until adjournment of this trial. All rise for the honorable Nathan Forrester presiding.” Having finally heard the name of his would be executioner, Clay almost fell out of his chair. When he saw the former commander of his army unit enter the room and take the judges seat. He found it really hard to keep from smiling or grinning from ear to ear, but his old comrade shot him a look that he remembered from the war telling him to just sit still and be quite.

Other than that, the judge didn’t look in his direction again as he started reading from a folder he had in his hand. “Defendant John Allison. You are charged with disturbing the peace. How do you Plea?” John, having been raised to be man enough to admit his wrong doings and face his consequences for them when caught. Another part of his childhood education was he was taught to tell the truth. “I was brought up to tell the truth judge” he said, “I got to say guilty your honor. I was drunk and I stomped on some people’s feet because I thought it was funny.” The judge slammed the gavel down on the table and said “Defendant John Allison, by your own admission then I find you guilty of disturbing the peace and drunk and disorderly. I hereby sentence you to five days in jail. I’m going to suspend that sentence though since you have been confined to the doctor’s office and give you credit for your time served. You sir are free to go.”

The judge still not having paid any more attention to Clay had Clay beginning to worry. Wondering if it mattered to his old war commander just who it was that he had it the hot seat. ‘Surely he remembers me from the war.’ Clay was thinking to himself.

“The next case is the State of New Mexico versus Robert Clay Allison on the charge of murdering Las Animas deputy sheriff Charles Faber.” The judge called out. “I’m not even going to ask for a plea on this case from Mr. Allison.” This gave the sheriff a big grin as he thought to himself ‘Yes! He’s going to hang that Son of a Bitch!’ The judge then continued “I have reviewed written statements, and spoken to a number of witnesses in regards to this matter. I have thus come to the conclusion with the sworn testimony and sworn written statements that the state has neglected to show legitimate cause or reason, and has no evidence to support a charge of murder. It is the testimony of all the witnesses to the incident that deputy Faber never identified himself as a lawman or announced his intentions to anyone before he leveled a deadly weapon at a third person, namely the younger Mr. Allison. Therefore, it is the judgment of this court that from the location Mr. Allison was as opposed to where Mr. Faber was standing, it would have been impossible to see Mr. Faber’s badge or for him to have known Mr. Faber was a lawman. Therefore it is the ruling of this court that this is a shooting case of self-defense and hereby orders the immediate release of the prisoner Mr. Robert Clay Allison. This case is dismissed. Court is now adjourned.” Hitting his