The Daughter, C.B. Cooper [great reads .TXT] 📗

I’m not a hero or a legend. My friend here tends to exaggerate.” He gave Zeb a meaningful look, warning him to keep his mouth shut. Turning back to the man, he said, “I am, however, looking to buy a horse. I take it from your sign there, that you’re the man I need to see?”
At the prospect of making a buck, Clancy smiled brightly through his chaw, “Yes sir, you’ve certainly come to the right place. Climb on down outa that saddle and come take a look at me stock. I got the finest horse flesh this side of New Orleans, you wont be disappointed, no siree- I guarentee you wont find one better.”
Once they had their feet on the ground Zeb clapped Sam on the back, “I’ll be takin’ my leave now, hoss trading can be a nasty business. You know where to find me when your done.” he sang and then broke into a whistle, as he headed for the nearest drinking hole.

By the time Sam walked into the saloon, there was quite a crowd gathered. The first man to walk up to him looked a bit familiar. “Hey Sam! How ya been?” he asked as he pumped his hand.
It took him over twenty minutes to make his way to Zeb, who was sitting in the back of the packed saloon, looking like the cat that ate the canary.
Zeb smiled and shrugged his shoulders, “Word sure travels fast around here.”
Sam took a seat next to Zeb as the bartender fought his way through the crowd. He leaned across the table in order to be heard above the noise, “Hope your thirsty, Mr. Sharp. Every man in here has already bought you a drink, some of them bought you two.” Checking a figure he had written on the palm of his hand, he said, “You got thirty-six drinks a’comin’. How do you want ‘em?”
Thirty-six drinks! Hell, even in his drinking days he would of never came close to that number, even on his best, or worst, night. Doing some quick thinking, he answered smiling, “Me and my friend here will take beer, and I’d like to buy the house a round.”
The bartender smiled back and winked, “You got it, Mr. Sharp.” Turning to the milling crowd, he yelled, “Listen up, boys! Mr. Sharp here, has bought the house a round!”
The cheers and applause was deafening as it bounced off the narrow walls of the bar room.
As it turned out, Sam didn’t have to do a whole lot of talking. After everyone had their drinks, they settled in around the room, some at tables, but a lot either stood or found a spot on the floor, their backs against the wall. When all was quiet, the stories started.
Without it being said, men began to tell the legendary stories of Sam Sharp’s life. Some were funny, some were serious, but all painted a picture of an impossible hero. And all were pretty near to being true. Several times during the telling of a story, the teller would look to Sam for reassurance that they were telling it right. He’s give them a nod, and a shot of courage to continue. It was clear, by the careful and respectful way they told the stories, that he was greatly admired by every man-jack there.
Hearing his stories told second hand had an odd effect on Sam. He hadn’t seen the events the way the others had. To him they were common, ordinary everyday occurrences. But hearing them told through the eyes of others, they took on an epic quality that he had never seen in himself, or his life, until today.
They told of a man who was both brave and heroic, a true legend of his time, a man among men, an icon to look up to and emulate.
The experience was both, profound and humbling. He was truly overwhelmed by the admiration cast upon him by the men in the saloon, and he felt completely undeserving of such high praise. In short, it kinda made him feel like a jackass. He couldn’t help but think, that if they only knew the truth, he would be swinging from the branch of a tall tree at the edge of town, instead of being hailed a hero.
It also reminded him of the thousands of times that he’d wished he could take back that one day in his life. If only he could erase that one black mark, maybe he too, would of seen himself as the others did. But he couldn’t. Not now, not then, not ever.
Even though all of those thoughts were rolling around in his head, he played the part well. He laughed, smiled, and clapped the men on their backs, all on queue. Other times he would nod gravely, or shake his head sadly, all depending on the story.
Zeb, on the other hand, was having a grand ol’ time. He sat watching Sam proudly, like an explorer sharing a new found ancient relic with the world. Or, strangely enough, like a proud father showing off his hero son.
Sam noticed a particular table, off to his left, where the three gentlemen who sat around it, weren’t nearly as impressed with him as everyone else. In fact, they kept throwing somewhat hostile looks his way.
The big one in the middle said something quietly to the others, then they all laughed, leering in Sam’s direction.
He wasn’t the only one to notice. A man by the name of George Burris, had had enough of what he deemed disrespectful, nasty, and just plain rude behavior, stepped away from the bar he’d been leaning on, and called the three out. “You three got a problem with our guest?”
The big lout in the middle sneered, “We were just taking bets on when you all were gonna line up to lick his boots and kiss his royal ass.”
The skinny man on his left, laughed, “Yeah, if’n you all do it in the next five minutes, I’m gonna win me a dollar.”
The guy on the far right kept his head down and his mouth shut. It was obvious he was uncomfortable, and didn’t want any part of his friends’ drunken confrontation.
After a moment of shocked silence, the barroom erupted with shouts and threats, men were all but foaming at the mouth over the appalling show of disrespect.
Above it all, Zeb could be heard loud and clear, “That’s a god damned insult to the whole state of Texas! Sam Sharp is one of the bravest men that ever come out of these parts, so show some god-damn respect!”
The leader of the idiots, ignored all the other ranting and raving, zeroing in on what Zeb had said, “Hero?” Looking directly at Sam, he sneered, “All through the war I had to listen to stories about you! How great you were, how brave you were, ‘fiercest fighter to ever come out of Texas’’ he mocked. “And where were you? Where were you when we was face down in the dirt, or gettin’ our asses blown off by the god-damned Blue-bellies! If your such a hero, why weren’t you there fighting with us!” He stood and started walking slowly towards Sam, “According to the legends, we might a won that war, if’n you’d a bothered to show up!” he screamed.
Sam had also risen from where he sat, walking towards the angry, shaking man, he said, “You boys fought the good fight, we all know that. But it wouldn’t have mattered if I would of have been there, it wouldn’t have mattered if there had been a thousand of me there, there was no winning that war. They had more money and they had more men, it’s as simple as that. They out numbered us by more than two to one.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, “So you were scared, was that it? You turned yellow and stayed home, sucking on your momma’s tit while we were being slaughtered!”
“That’s not it at all…”
The other man cut him off, screaming, “Where were you? Where were you when my brother was dying!”
Sam saw it now. He saw the real reason why the man in front of him was so upset. The man had fought hard, seen his friends and his own brother, cut down right in front of his eyes. What he had wanted most in the heat of battle, what he needed in the midst of war, was a hero.
Feeling the pain of the man’s loss, he clamped a gentle hand on his shoulder, “I’m very sorry for your loss…”
Sam knew almost immediately that he had made a big mistake. He seen the other mans eyes round with surprise, and then narrow with fury. He instinctly steeled himself for the fist that was already flying his way.
Sam’s head snapped back and to the right by the force of the impact. Afterward, he calmly reached up and rubbed his aching jaw, “I don’t want to fight you…”
“The fuck you say!” the man screamed, throwing spit in Sam’s face as he talked. “Stand there, or fight. It doesn’t make a god-damned bit of difference to me, ‘cause I’m gonna whup yer ass!”
“You didn’t let me finish.” Sam said calmly, as his eyes steeled over, “I don’t want to fight you, but I will if I have to.”
The silent room roared to life as men began pushing the two towards the door. Shouts of wagers were already being called as they hit the boardwalk. Of course, most all of the crowd was betting on Sam Sharp to best the other man, which didn’t help the odds, or his confidence any. Sam kept his eyes on the burly man in front of him, as they marched out into the street.
He only stood two inches over Sam, but looked like he out weighed him by a good fifty pounds. More than that, he had just come back from the war and was in tip-top fighting shape, and he was mad as hell.
Sam, on the other hand, had spent the last few years doing the Lord’s work, which was not physical in any way, shape, or form. Worst of all, right now he just wasn’t mad enough to fight. He still couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man standing in front of him, but that was about to change very quickly.
The men circled each other, fists up, each waiting for the other to start the fight.
The big man could see that Sam’s heart just wasn’t into it, so he decided to egg him on a bit. He’d been spoiling for a good fight, and it just wasn’t going to be that fun unless Sam fought back.
“Right after I kick your ass, I’m gonna track down your momma and fuck her three ways from Sunday.”
Sam frowned, but kept his fists up. “Obviously, you don’t know my mothers dead.”
The big man smiled wickedly, “Well, your gonna have to point the way to her grave so I can piss on her bones, then.”
That did it.
Sam feigned with a left and struck with his right. Everyone in the crowd could hear the cartilage crunch, as the man’s nose smashed flat to his face. Blood poured down over his mouth and chin, as he bellowed with rage. The next few minutes were spent trading punch for punch, jab for jab and grunt for grunt. The other man might have been bigger, but Sam was still lightning quick, and his punches were brutal. The other man soon gave up on the hand to hand combat and grabbed him up in a crushing bear hug.
Sam’s arms were trapped at his sides, but his head and legs were free.
He brought his