End Of The Line
by LimeyJack
(cc) by-nc-sa
3. Four Graves
Adam Smith Liche looked down into the four open graves through the haze of sideways rain. A pile of mud sat beside each one, and a collection of simple wooden crosses lay in a pile. The graves had been dug for some time. Grass was growing around their edges, and water pooled at the base of each. Just the sight of them send an ominous shiver down Adam's spine. He shifted his ridiculous looking hat around his head, trying to keep the rain off his face.
Up the main street, towards the chapel, Mayor Fish trudged through the bad weather. He wore a canvas poncho and a wide brimmed hat, but he still looked decidedly uncomfortable. His mustache was pasted to his face, and around his neck his paper collar was slowly loosing it's starch.
“How's that for dedication to the job?” The Mayor said when he was in ear shot. “Before he done left for Deadwood, the Grave Digger dug them four graves. Said if we ever managed to filled them up, he'd come back and dig up some more. Down right lazy, if you ask me. Can't even be bothered to wait for a fella to die before digging his grave. Just lazy.”
“Gives me the cold shivers.” Adam volunteered, looking down into the four holes.
“Reckon it might. You going out of your way these last few weeks to make yourself a candidate to fill one.” The mayor finally stepped up besides Adam, huffing from his climb. “You sure know how to poke the bear in the eye, I'll tell you what.”
“Any word of the Gaffa?”
“Nope. But this town is sure fit to burst. Word is the Anacreon boys are camped just up the pass aways. That's keeping the crew from the Lazy S in town. Burke's men are sticking around to see how it plays out, and Michael's outfit are setting up in the all old Palace Hotel. And everyone walking around with one of them new Colt handguns being sold by at Entenmann's. And repeating rifles too. No one's looking to make a fool of themselves by getting water logged, like the Gaffa did. No Sir, they've all seen the light... I'm telling you son, you're got to do something.”
Adam looked up from graves and at the white clapboard church. The mountains beyond could barely be seen pushing through the fog.
“What'd you want me to do?”
“Heck, I made you Sheriff for a reason, boy. There's folks in this town still. Decent folks. After the gold panned out, that's all that's been left, but if there's much more gun play, those folks are going to shin out too. I wouldn't blame them. You show up and we've got Ranchers at each other's necks...”
“Then you made a mistake making me Sheriff...”
“The heck I did. This town has got to stand up to them. Yes we do. And I ain't seen no one better able to make a stand than you, Dude. That was something else the other night. You strolling out of the Hinny plain as day, and facing the Gaga down. We got faith in you, that's why the Council's gone and done what its done. 'Cause we're figuring you can make something happen.”
Adam felt a sinking feeling.
“What the Council gone and done?”
“They only sane thing decent folk can do when four armed gangs are occupying their town. We've passed a law: No firearms in the city limits of Endaleleen. Effective immediately.”
“You want me to take away their guns?” This made Adam smile.
“You got it. And stop that Sears woman from selling any more! Just don't make a lick of sense. All them guns and all them itchy trigger fingers. If we don't do something there'll be blood in the streets! You take away them guns so this place can get back to civilization!” With that, the Mayor turned and trudged off back down the hill.
“Civilization? Here?” Adam said to the empty graves and shrugged.
They next morning, the rain abated, and Adam posted the new city ordinance at the railroad platform, at the trail head into town, and (most importantly) on the door of the Singing Hinny. At first the ordinance created quite an uproar, with much stabbing of fingers and puffing of cheeks. But as evening rolled around, and the cowboys began to migrate into the saloon, reality began to set in. Gully had been instructed not to serve anyone who hadn't turned in his firearms. As the choice between guns and whiskey sunk in, thirst became a mighty persuader.
As the evening went on, and the whiskey flowed, and the pile of pistols and rifles behind the bar grew, a genuine sense of comrade seems to form among the rival ranchers. Rounds of drinks were being bought. Playful barbs were being thrown. It looked like the Council's plan might actually work. Adam had to admit it, despite his skepticism. Without the ever present threat of violence, the cowboy were able to find common ground in drinking and bawdy jokes. At closing time, as everyone stagged off to their bed rolls, no one seemed to feel naked without their gun.
So there it was. The cowboys were that easily unarmed. No fights, no shots, just whiskey. Adam's next task, however, wasn't going to be as easy. He soon found himself in Entenmann's Hardware Store, under the gaze of the formidable Mrs. Sears.
“Why, they can't do such a thing!” She threw he hands up in disgust. Adam had just broken the news of the Council's prohibition on weapons sales. “It's prior restraint- Or some such thing! I have my rights, you know!”
“I'm was a banker, before I was Sheriff.” Adam said apologetically. “No lawyer.”
“Well, those dunderheads! They'll be... I'll just...” Her anger suddenly overcame her, and she seemed to choke back her emotions. Adam suddenly felt like a bully.
“It's just the guns and ammunition you can't sell. All other merchandise is still fine...”
All the emotion drained out of Mrs Sears' face, and she fixed him with her deathly stare once again. Adam felt foolish for momentarily feeling sorry for her. By the look in her eyes, she was no one who ever need to be felt sorry for.
“May I show you the store room?” She said, as if it was an invitation to tea in the parlor. Adam shrugged and followed her to the back of the store. She opened a back door and they stepped into a dusty room piled high with merchandise. There were some prospecting equipment, and some woodworking tools, but most of the room was stocked with crates of guns.
“My Lord...” Adam managed. He dusted off one crate and reveled 'Winchester Repeating Arms Company' stenciled in white. “I...”
“You asked to speak to Mr. Sears when you first came into my store.” Mrs. Sears said behind him. Her voice was low and serious. “There is a Mr. Sears, well was. Is. I mean, he's still alive. He's just not Mr. Sears anymore. Well, he is... I'm not... Well, you know how it can be...
We bought this store together three years ago. It's never the miners that get rich in gold rushes, you know. It's the storekeepers. Success or failure, every miner spends the same on picks and shovels. We were going to be rich. Endaleleen was a busy town back then, and we were well on our way. But the gold panned out, and the miners with it. My husband sunk our profits into a deal to supply arms to the Cavalry. But after the Bighorn, that order fell through. The gold moved to Deadwood and so did my husband. I understand he's trying his hand at digging the stuff up this time. I wish him success. He never had the temperament for being a storekeeper. Very few men do.
And I'm left here. Selling gold pans to a town with no miners. Now the only thing people in this town want, other than whiskey, is illegal for me to sell. Tell me Sheriff: How am I supposed to make a living? What exactly is there in this town for a woman to do?”
Adam turned around and looked at her. He knew what she meant, and he already knew better than to pity her. The anger in her eyes told him not to. He dug into his vest pocket for some silver dollars he had taken from the Hinny's cash box.
“I now have the means to pay off my chit. For the gun and the hat...” Adam said, holding out the money.
“Get out.” Mrs Sears said, almost with indifference.
As word of the No Gun Law made it's way out to the Anacreon boys camping in the raing, cowboys by the ones and twos broke camp and came into town. They surrendered their guns, and happily drank with cowboys from the rival ranches at Singing Hinny. All animosity seemingly forgotten. Neither Adam or Gully could recognize anyone they had traded shots with from the other night, and in the interests of the truce, they didn't make an issue of it. It seems that the cowboys were leaderless anyway, as the Gaffa had returned across the Big Sue to to nurse his wounds, and Banner had take a train out of town a few days after the gunfight. They were left with orders to bottle up the town, but were far more interested in drinking whiskey, and sleeping in a real bed. And drink they did. With all the cowboys from all the ranches in town, their pockets full of pay from the year end roundup; it was beginning to look a lot like the good-old-days in the Singing Hinny Saloon. On any given evening, cowboys were lining every inch of the bar, and taking every table. The place was bullet ridden, with boards over every window, keeping the rain out, but it was the only saloon left in town. Occasionally, one of the older hands might pull out a squeeze box and fumble through a tune. Despite the questionable playing, voices would be enthusiastically raised in chorus, if anyone knew the words or not. Gully collected guns, the cowboys drank, and all was peaceful in End of the Line.
That is until Banner returned.
Perhaps three weeks after Adam had posted the No Gun Ordinance, the four thirty train arrived in End of the Line as usual. Unusually, however, five pairs of boots stepped off the train that day. Adam, as Sheriff, had made it his habit to watch the comings and goings at the train platform each day. This was the first time he had seen anyone disembark during the tenure.
One pair of boots belongs to Jacob Banner. He was no longer dressed as a cowboy, but had taken the opportunity of his absence to purchase a gray suit. He still worse his colt on his hip, however, and it shinned in the evening light. The other four pairs of boots were black. The men wearing them also wore black suits. They each carried a pair of pistols in black leather holsters hanging from black leather belts. Topping off their outfits, each wore a black hat that made Adam remember how ridiculous his made him look.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” Adam said, stepping towards the five men.
“Good evening...” Banner began, then he saw the badge on Adam's coat. “...Sheriff. Why, that is a surprise.”
“Your friends staying in End of the Line?” Adam nodded towards the four men in black.
“They will be spending some time in town.”
“Then I best inform you of the new town ordinance barring the carrying of firearms in the city limits.” Adam tapped the sign he had posted on the platform. “If you gentlemen will check your guns with the bartender at the Singing Hinny...” There were some bemused grunts from the four men. “Is there going to be a problem?”
“With all do respect, Sheriff.” Banner began. “These fellas ain't the kind to check their guns with anybody...”
“Council didn't make room for exceptions...” Adam could feel the situation going south quickly.
“I don' t think you understand, Liche...”
“What's there to understand?” Adam looked from man to man. They did have some mighty fine hats... “If you're friends want to stay in town, they're gonna need to give up their guns.”
“Well, I'll ask, out of respect for your position, but I can't guarantee anything.” Banner turned to the neared of the four men. “Ed, you want to check your guns with the Sheriff?”
“Sheriff?” The man grunted. “I'll spit in his eye.” Banner turned back to Adam.