“Yeah, the name is Hodge, Tim Hodge. What about it, Mr. Matt Jensen, Mr. big-time gun fighter? I’m gettin’ pretty tired of jawin’. I say that you either go for your gun now, or get plumb on out of the county with your tail tucked down between your legs.”
“You are challenging me to a gunfight, are you, Mr. Hodge?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m doing. I’m challenging you to a gunfight.”
“That’s not really fair now, is it?” Matt said. “I mean with me sitting down, and you standing up. It’s sort of hard to make a quick draw from a sitting position. Are you going to allow me to stand up first?”
A broad, mocking smile spread across Hodge’s face. “Well now, what do you think, boys?” he asked. “Should I give this famous gunfighter a chance and let him stand up? Or should I just kill him where he sits for being so stupid as to let himself get caught in this predicament?”
Matt made no move toward his own gun, but he did smile up at Hodge and his smile was even colder and more frightening than Hodge’s smile.
“You aren’t going to let me stand, are you, Hodge?”
“No, I ain’t.”
“I didn’t think so. And this isn’t the first time some coward challenged me while I was sitting down. So,” Matt continued. “You might say that I was ready for it. You see, I already have my gun out, and I am pointing it at you, right now.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Hodge asked. “Hell, your gun ain’t out. I can see your gun in that fancy holster, plain as day!”
“Oh, I’m glad you noticed. That is a nice holster, isn’t it? I had that made, especially for me, down in El Paso.”
“Mister, you ain’t makin’ no sense at all. What gun do you have pointed at me?”
Matt brought his hand up from under the table. His fingers were wrapped around a small pistol.
“Well, now, that would be this gun, Mr. Hodge,” Matt said. “It is a Derringer, two barrels, forty-one caliber. It doesn’t have that much range, but hell, how far are you from me, anyway? Six feet? Ten feet? They say that’s about how far Lincoln was from John Wilkes Booth when he killed him with this same kind of weapon.”
Hodge stood his ground for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing, a muscle in his cheek twitching, and sweat breaking out on his forehead.
“That—that—where did that gun come from?”
“Oh, I can’t give away all my secrets now, can I, Mr. Hodge?”
“Ha! Looks to me like you have a problem,” Hodge said.
“And what problem would that be?” Matt asked.
“You can’t count.”
“Why would you say that?”
Hodge smiled. “You’ve only got two barrels on that gun, and there are three of us.”
Matt looked down at his pistol, then at the three men. “Damn if you aren’t right, Hodge. There are three of you, and I have only two barrels.”
“Which means,” Hodge said, his confident smile growing broader, “That you can’t kill all three of us.”
“You’re right again. I can’t get all three of you,” Matt said. “So here’s what I’m going to do. Since you seem to be the only one smart enough to have figured that out, I’m going to let you live, but I’m going to kill the other two.”
“What?” Carter shouted. “The hell you say!”
“I tell you what,” Matt said. He cocked the pistol. “Why don’t I just shoot them now and get it over with? I believe I can kill both of them before you can kill me. Shall we try it?”
“No!” Carter said. He pulled his pistol and pointed it at Hodge. “Hodge, you put that gun away, now! You think I’m going to let him shoot us, just so you can shoot him?”
“He’s bluffing,” Hodge said. “He can’t kill all three of us.”
“I ain’t worried about all three of us, you dumb son of a bitch!” Carter said. “I’m only worried about me. Get your hand away from your gun, now, or I’ll blow your damn head off myself!”
Hodge moved his hand away.
“Good move, Mr. Hodge,” Matt said. He turned the pistol toward Carter. “Now, you are making me nervous. I would appreciate it very much if you would put your gun back in its holster.”
“All right, all right, I’m doing it,” Carter said, holstering his pistol. “Come on,” he said to the other two. “Let’s go.”
The three men left the saloon, but Matt was reasonably sure that he hadn’t seen the last of them. He finished his lunch and then went outside. He had just stepped down from the boardwalk when the first shot came. It hit the support post right beside him. Then, even as he was locating the shooter, who was just behind a watering trough on the opposite side of the street just in front of the feed and seed store, there was a second, then a third shot. All three shots came from different locations.
Matt darted into the space between the saloon and the leather goods store that was adjacent to The Lion and The Crown. With his gun in hand, he backed up against the wall of the leather goods store, then looked back into the street. He wasn’t the only one who had been stirred into action, because the street, which had been crowded with pedestrians a moment earlier, was emptying quickly as everyone hurried to get out of the line of fire.
So far he only knew the location of one of the shooters, that being the one behind the watering trough across the street. That there were two more convinced him that these had to be the same three men who had braced him in the saloon earlier.
At the far end of the street, Gordon Prouty, unaware of the drama being played out before him, came into town driving a wagon. The right rear wheel was squeaking badly, and he knew he was going to have to pack the thing with grease.
As the wagon continued on into town, everyone was aware of its presence, from the squeaking axle to the sound of the wheels rolling on the hard dirt, to the rattle of chains, tongue, and doubletree, to the clopping of the horses’ hooves. It drew the attention of all, and they worried about Mr. Prouty for fear he might get caught in the crossfire. For the moment, though, there was no crossfire as the attention of everyone, even the shooters, was on the wagon.
Matt used the distraction of the wagon to run back to the alley. A ladder was attached to the rear of the leather goods store and, holstering his pistol, Matt climbed to the top. Then, bending down at the waist so not to be silhouetted against the sky, Matt ran to the front of the building and stood behind the false front. Looking around the edge of the false front, he saw that the wagon had passed all the way through town and was now at the far end of the street and turning into the lumberyard.
Matt had hoped that from this vantage point he might be able to see the shooter behind the watering trough, but he couldn’t. In fact, he wasn’t even sure the shooter was still behind the trough.
“Where’d he go?” Matt heard somebody shout. “Hodge? Decker? Either one of you see ’im? You have any idea where he went?”
The call came from the roof of the apothecary which was just across the street from Matt. Matt stepped out from behind the false front.
“Are you looking for me?” he called.
“There he is!”
Matt recognized the one on the roof of the apothecary as Carter. And Carter, even as he was shouting to the others, took a shot at Matt and missed. Matt shot back and didn’t miss. Carter fell from the roof of the drugstore, landing on the boardwalk that passed in front of the store. He hit so hard that he actually broke some of the planking.
Decker and Hodge both shot at Matt, and though both of them missed, they came close enough to cause him to drop back down behind the false front for both cover and concealment. This time he saw where both shots came from. One of the shots confirmed his belief that one of the shooters was still behind a watering trough. The other came from just inside the front door of the Chinese laundry.
Hurrying to the rear of the building, Matt climbed down the ladder, then ran several buildings up the street. Moving up through the gap between Sikes’ Hardware Store and the lumberyard, Matt looked back down the street. He saw Hodge peering out from the front of the laundry, and Decker rising up to look over the watering trough. Both men were focusing their attention on the false front of the leather goods store. That was where they last saw him, and that was where they believed him still to be.