The Time Rippers Book 2: Gettysburg by Pete Bertino - HTML preview

CHAPTER 10 SUPPORT YOUR

LOCAL SHERIFF

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When the new century began, Billy who had saved a great deal of money since wedding Isabella,

prepared to make his first journey home to New

Mexico in almost twenty years. He left with

Miguel and left Isabella who would come later

when Billy had secured a home for them.

It was only a few days ride on horseback, but to Billy it seemed to take forever. Billy had his wife telegram Mr Connelly and Susan McSween to be

expecting them in a few days. Billy was quiet the whole time.

Feelings of excitement of seeing home again, and the anxiety of having to walk the same streets as James Dolan conflicted with his emotions. Even

after his pardon Billy, was still reluctant to return to America. The newspaper articles he had read

after his escape wouldn’t leave his mind.

“The people have changed, Mr McCarty. Mr

Dolan’s deeds are being exposed.” Connelly told him upon their first meeting.

It was the cannon that had fired upon El Tiempo, it was just a blurb from the Sun News at first. A

miscalculation of inventory, an officer was quoted.

But when it was found out an officer and buck private went missing as well, there was investigations from the military and an independent investigation by Dolans personal detectives, one of which was Selman.

There had been grumbling about that, and louder grumbling still when the government allowed him to do so and didn’t ask why it took so long for Dolan’s detectives to report a missing military

officer. They had also been the ones responsible for retrieving the cannon as evidence. The

investigators concluded it was damaged to much to be identified.

There had been a small paper trail Dolans

investigators found, and that the blame had laid with a Lieutenant Wentworth Ruskin an officer

who was a big gambler. Dolan’s investigation

concluded the Lieutenant motive for attacking a small Mexican village was that it wasn’t an attack but a suicide by explosion after going AWOL.

The private had been unaware of the Lieutenant

actions and took his own life for the guilt of not stopping his CO from taking his own life. The

Messila headline the next day said ridiculous in bold font with a drawing of an explosion and a

caricature of Ruskin trying to light a cigarette with the cannon while wearing a blind fold.

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The government had been satisfied with that and had drawn the same conclusion. Connelly however didn’t let the matter drop when he took on Billy’s case for a pardon and still tried to find a

connection to Dolan

Connelly didn’t think he could ever prove it, but was using it as a way to keep Dolan from going

after Billy, especially with the federal government watching his every move. Or until the government

felt he no longer had too much of their tax money.

Dolan wouldn’t be going to jail as Connelly had said, but the will of the people and the power of the press, not the law, had freed Billy The Kid just as the lawyer had been trying for.

It was afternoon on the second day out when Billy began to pick out familiar places he thought he would never see again. He felt a sense of joy rising inside of him as the mountains north of him drew closer, the sting of sand blowing in the wind

pelting his face was a joyous feeling.

He was still a boy when he high tailed it out of there under cover of freak green lightning and night time sand storm. Now here he was again, with the beginnings of grey hair and joints that felt a little too tight when it was cold out. Leaving as a boy but returning as a man.

Entering the town felt unreal, like the dream that kept reoccurring to him for many years while he

slept. In the dream people would be going about their business, but would stop and wave to Billy.

Though people were milling about there own

business here, they hadn’t stopped to say hi, but

Billy didn’t care. He was home.

“So this is where you were born, amigo?” Miguel asked.

“Actually I was born in New York City. I prefer to call this home though.”

Billy and Miguel rode to the former office of the Late Thomas McSween, where Connelly and Susan

were to meet them. They had just dismounted their steeds out front of the office when Billy noticed her standing there.

She was a lovely matronly looking woman of about sixty. She stood on the steps of the office building

watching Billy. Her hair sat in a neat gray bun, wearing a dress the color of pink pastel, she

smiled her eyes were glazed with tears of joy.

He removed his hat and approached her, she held out her arms and they embraced.

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“Susan, it’s good to see you again.” he said

holding her tight.

“Glad to have you back, Billy.”

She stepped back and took a look at Billy the Kid as a man.

“Last time I saw you Billy you still couldn’t

shave.” she said caressing the stubble on his cheek in amazement. “And i wasn’t such and old maid.”

Connelly then came out to greet them.

“Mr McCarty, welcome home.”

“Well Mr Connelly I’m looking for a home for me and Isabella. Think ya might be able help me out? I got five hundred save up from selling my livestock to this thief here.” he said cocking a thumb at Miguel.

“Mayor Otero.” Connelly said politely.

Miguel chuckled but Connelly either didn’t hear or ignored it.

“Well Mr McCarty I think you’ll need to discuss

your living arraignment with someone else.”

“Why can’t you help me?” Billy asked.

“Cause he don’t want you stinking up his office!”

said a voice filled with laughter from behind

Connelly.

A man with a brown Stetson and a dungaree shirts with chew stains and tears walked out with a cock sure grin, he rested his arm on the shoulder of Connelly who rolled his eyes.

His greasy hair was shoulder length with grey

showing through his black hair.

“Jesus Christ, Frank!”

Frank gave Billy a bear hug as Billy laughed and slapped him on the back.

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“So you buck toothed fool, I heard you joined the Mexican army and and retired to sit on a pile of young senoritas. Whose your friend?”

“This Miguel. Miguel this is Frank Coe.”

“Thanks for keeping eye on my friend Miguel.” he said with a handshake. “he probably still cant wipe his ass with out a getting lost on the way there.”

“Frank, language.” said Susan who had for years listened to vulgar words but had grown used to

them.

“So where’s George?”

“Come with me, Kid.”

“Aw heck, Frank. Let’s kick our boots off, I’m

saddle sore.” Billy asked but got back on the

horse.

“Come on, Billy. It’ll be worth it. You’d like a ride Mrs McSween?” he asked holding out an arm

for her to take.

“If you promise to keep your vulgarities in check.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll ride with Mayor Otero, I have some ideas about infrastructure I’d like to share with him.”

It was short ride, and it took only a moment or two before Billy realized were Frank was taking them.

It was a ranch house with wide empty land that

was covered in patches of grass, some of which was withering. A wooden fenced reinforced with chicken wire ran the entire circumference of the surrounding land.

At the entrance to the large heath was a wooden sign that was three by four feet, it had writing on it some of it had been washed out by the sun. The

little bit of writing still visible

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was easy for Billy to read since he remembered

the sign from his youth. It said Tunstall Ranch, Dolan never got around to change the sign Billy guessed.

Billy got off his horse and looked upon the land of his friend and employer who had been murdered.

He had been just seventeen or so when he robbed Tunstall, who gave him a job instead of throwing him in jail.

He’d been given chances by others but he always managed to get himself deeper in trouble afterwards. Tunstall though, he had treated Billy like a man, an equal. When Tunstall gave him a

second chance Billy took it with pride. A voice coming from the ranch house brought Billy out of his thoughts of Tunstall.

“Hell, Frank what stinks?!” said a man of similar build but with short hair and wearing a bowler.

“Its your ass, George!” Billy shouted back

jovially.

They rode up to the porch of the former home of John Tunstall. George had a bottle of Kentucky

bourbon and a half dozen glasses and toasted to Billy’s freedom.

They sat in a semi circle on the porch were chairs had been set out, the sun was high but they sat in the cool of the shadow cast by the porch overhang.

“So how did you guys get the money to buy this

place, and how the hell did you get Dolan to sell to ya?”

“Well, Frank and me wanted to save up some

money hoping we could maybe...uh..whats that

word Mr Connelly?”

“Bribe.”

“Yea, bribe somebody into get you a pardon. But Susan says that was foolish, but I wasn’t so sure at first.”

“Because you are stubborn, George.” said Susan

matter of factly

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George grinned at the woman who they all

considered a mother figure and continued.

“So she says it would be better to use the money procreativly.”

“proactively, you dumb ass.” Frank said.

“I know what I mean. Anyways, I say how bout we hire a lawyer to take on your case a good lawyer like Tom McSween.” George said reaching out and putting a hand on Susan who smiled at him.

“So I talked to Mr Connelly who offered to work on your case pro bono.” said Susan

“But we kept saving up anyway,” George continued “ and when Dolan found all that silver and the federal government started rooting through

his life, he started selling every other piece of land and cattle. I couldn’t get the general store though it was demolished after Dolan bought it, but I was the only one who put a bid on the land when

auction time came. I let word get around getting John’s land back was personal Billy. Speaking of which, I heard you got hitched so here’s your

wedding present.”

“It’s from all of us Billy.” Frank said

George pulled out an envelope an removed a slip of paper with a seal and a large title on the top. It was a deed to Tunstalls land. Billy took it with numb fingers.

“And its legit, Billy my boy. Aint that right, Mr Connelly.?” George said rasing his glass to the lawyer.

“That is correct, Mr Coe. Once you sign at the

bottom Mr McCarty the land will be officially

yours.”

“I can’t take this. I was on the run and that was my fault, hell even if Wallace did double cross me that don’t mean you should have to spend your life

savings giving me a home. I got money...”

“Billy,” Susan said “besides Frank and George

here, you’re the only one to fight for us.James Dolan is a tyrant, you showed him he couldn’t push people around. When Tom...” Susan choked on her husbands name.

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She placed a hand over her mouth as her eyes

glazed over. Billy got up to console her but she held he hand up.

“Even after he killed my Tom,” she continued “you were still ready to fight Billy. You risked your life and your freedom Billy for my husband, for Tom

O’Folliard, John Tunstall everybody Billy. We

can’t begin to thank you, we owe you Billy. This land is yours whether you think it is or not.”

Susan rose and stood in front of Billy, who stood up as well. She kissed him on the cheek and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Think of it as Frank said, a wedding present.”

“OK, I will then.” Billy said embracing Susan.

“Well I say we drink to that and to Mrs Billy the Kid, when do we get to me her, Billy?” asked

George.

“Well the hard part is over, but I need some more cattle, it’ll be easier still now that Dolan’s got his hands in silver these days. No price fixing.”

“Not with the sheriff around, nobody trying that shit.” George said happily.

“Who’s sheriff now?”

“Alex Tully.” said Frank “his daddy worked for

Tunstall back in the seventies. He’s a what ya call it? A cookie.”

“A ginger, you ass head.” George said

“Yeah, you remember him Billy. He was just a

little squirt with freckles when you were still here.”

“Really? How old is he?”

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“He’s about twenty five or so.” said Susan

Twenty five! Billy thought has it been that long?

“Where does time go?” Billy said mostly to

himself.

“Welcome to getting old Billy.” Susan said.

“Yeah. twenty five seems young for that job

though.”

“Well he’s qualified enough i suppose. He went in the army for a couple years, plus Dolan’s not

raising hell so much since the trial. Not much going on around here until that mine of his is up and running.” George said lifting a glass and

sipping.

“Sheriff Tully, remembers you Billy. He’s a friend that thinks you got a raw deal too. Any problems you got he’ll help you. We wont have to put up

with Dolan’s shit no more.” Frank said.

Within a few weeks, Isabella had arrived with some belongings but not very many. The ranch

home was fully furnished and was stocked with

plenty of lumber for the wood stove. Miguel stayed for a while longer to help Billy reacquire cattle and with help from the Coe Cousins made minor

repairs on the the late Tunstalls home, which was now Billy’s home.

A number of people some old timers and some

new ones came to meet the famous gunslinger Billy the Kid. The Mesilla ran a story in the op/ed section about Billy’s vindication.

“Mr McCarty, what do you plan on doing now that you are a free man?” asked a reporter.

“To raise live stock and grow old on that there porch with my wife.”

“what about law enforcement?”

“No, sir. I hung up my rifle a while back. Guess the gophers will be happy bout that.”

The reporter from the Mesilla chuckled and said

good day. All Billy hoped for was healthy live stock and many nights star gazing on the porch with Isabella. So far it had been a

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peaceful transition. One night though, Billy and Isabella were sitting on the porch when a man with

a sandy colored mayer rode up to the gate of the fence a dozen yards or so away.

He wore a coat lined with brown fur and a white hat with a feather sitting in the brim at an angle. In the darkness Billy could tell who was sitting there.

He could feel his body shake with adrenaline as he stared upon James Dolan.

Billy stood up and almost out of habit steadied his hand in case he had to draw, but remembered he

had no weapon. Dolan just sat on his horse and

stared back at them.

“Who is that, Billy?”

“No one.” Billy said still looking back at him.

Billy walked down the steps and towards Dolan he was worried about being unarmed. He wouldn’t

put it past Dolan to try something.

“Something you need, Dolan?”

He stared at The Kid in an attempt to scare him, but Billy stared right back. Dolan looked away

first.

“Look’s like you doin well for yourself, Kid.

Everybody is welcoming back the hero, regular

fucking Robin Hood they callin you down in Old

Mexico.” Dolan nodded in disgust.

“It’s OK people up here still think you’re an

asshole.”

Dolan looked back sharply at Billy with an audible snarl.

“You dirty little Irish cock sucker. If the god damn feds hadn’t got in my way I would’ve had Selman rape and murder every hole in that town. Starting with that slice of beaner pie on your porch there.” Dolan quickly pulled his coat open revealing he carried iron to keep Billy in check.

“Why don’t you drop your iron and fight me like a man? Huh, or you need that burnt piece of meat

Selman to throw punches for you too?”

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Dolan grinded his teeth, feeling like Billy had bested him despite his carrying a revolver, Billy’s courage scared Dolan. Without a word Dolan

kicked his horse and rode away. Billy stood

quietly for a moment in silence when he was

startled by the comforting hand of his wife tugging his elbow.

“Is that him? Dolan?what did he want, Billy?”

“He was trying to scare me.”

“Did he?” Isabella asked.

“No.” he said simply as he put an arm around his wife.

“I don’t think you are scared of anything.” she said as they made there way back to the porch.

“There are worse things than rich asshole’s my

love.”

So far that had been the only incident, Billy didn’t

bother the sheriff whom was a friend as the Coe’s had said but knew the incident would only come down to Billy’s word against Dolan’s. Isabella asked why he didn’t say anything, but he convinced her it was just Dolan being his bully self minus the liquor.

It was not until summer was near its end again, while Billy helped Miguel pack his horse for his trip home when the local blacksmith, a man named Wyatt came around the front porch knocking

hysterically not noticing Billy and Miguel right behind him.

Isabella had come to the door and watched wide

eyed as the man stammered at her.

He pulled off his hat and said “Un...Mrs Billy, Uh I mean Mrs McCarty I need Billy have you seen

him?”

“Si,” she said and nodded behind him.

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“Oh thank Christ! Billy! Billy, it’s Sheriff Tully.

He’s been shot, oh God its bad. He’s been

screaming for ya for the last half hour.”

“Holy shit, what does Tully need me for?”

“No Billy, its not the sheriff that wants you, it’s the shooter. Billy, it’s Pat Garrett. Come on, I’ll explain on the way.”

Miguel joined Billy as they made there way on foot towards the bloodshed. Wyatt had explained that he had closed the shop to take lunch at the tavern and walked in on an argument between Garrett and Deputy Wilcox. Garrett was making drunken

advances on the barmaid who had thrown a drink in his face, it was then that Wilcox arrived to stop

it from escalating.

Wilcox gently raised one hand, about to speak

when Garrett took out his revolver and shot the deputy three times, everyone was out of the tavern before the deputy’s body hit the floor. Billy and the others reached the corner of the tavern and

crouched, a shot rang out some where close. Billy came around and looked down the street.

“I heard Garret was in Nevada.” Billy asked.

“He was, but people said he had run up a lot of

debt and couldn’t pay, so they ran him out.” Wyatt said putting his hands on his head when another shot rang out.

Other than the sporadic gun fire the street was Sunday afternoon quiet, twenty feet or so away from them was the tavern. The bay window was broken by a chair which sat in the middle of the street. It was a bright day but it was as dark as a cave inside the tavern.

Just to the left of the tavern laying next to the sidewalk was Tully. He was moving, but Billy

could see blood stains on his shirt.

“Alex,” Billy said but not to loudly.

Immediately Alex picked his head up and looked

and mouthed the word help.

“Just like back in El Tiempo, amigo. But I don’t have a rifle this time and you have no liquor.”

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Without a word Billy ran across the street and

made it nearly all the way across before another shot rang out. This one was closer and Billy slid down and began to crawl towards Tully, staying as

close as possible to the ground.

“How bad you shot up, Alex?”

“Drunk bastard got me in the elbow.” he said in a wavering voice.

Billy leaned on his side carefully to observe his wound. His arm below the elbow hung limp in the dirt that was eagerly soaking up the blood

emanating from the hole.

“Shit, can you move...”

Billy laid flat back down as another shot rang out just over their heads.

“Wherein the FUCK is he?!” a slurred voice called out from the tavern. “I’ll shot everyone in this town like mangy fuckin animals! Get him over here!”

Garret screamed and another shot rang out.

“Billy.” Tully whispered his eyes were spilling over with tears. “Billy, I can’t do this my arm is fucked.”

“Stay calm, Alex.” He whispered back.

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick. He wants to talk to you Billy. Take this.”

Alex took his good arm and removed his revolver and slid it over to Billy across his chest.

“don’t you have another deputy?”

“I’m deputizing you Billy. Sorry I don’t got the star for you with me.”

Billy took the gun reluctantly, and shoved it down the back of his pants. He hadn’t held a fire arm since Mexico. He hadn’t taken any firearms with him when he returned to America thinking a free man wouldn’t need them. He was slowly beginning to realize he would always need to carry a firearm.

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“If something happens to me, you’re gonna have my wife to deal with.”

“Understood, Billy. If he didn’t ask for you I

wouldn’t have deputized you.”

“I want Billy The Kid!” Garret shouted as another pistol shot rang out. “Bring him here.”

He called out again in a cracking voice. Billy was hoping Garret was starting to feel remorse, he

could hear gentle sobs coming from the tavern.

“Pat Garret.” Billy said loudly.

The sobbing stopped and every sound with it, as if time had become frozen. In the distance a tumble weed caught in a chicken wire shook with the

breeze as if in angry denial. Billy was about to call out again when Garret called out.

“Billy?”

Yeah, it’s me Pat. Look here, I’m gonna get up and walk to the window OK? I’ll keep my hands up.

An we’ll just talk.”

It was a minute or so before Garrett answered him.

“OK,” he said in an even voice.

Billy put the revolver in the back of his trousers and stayed at the edge of the sidewalk as he came within Garret’s view. The candlelight inside was dim and it made it hard to see anything. Billy felt a shudder crawl up his back as he thought back to that long ago night when they last met.

Out of the darkness a tall figure wearing a dark and dingy duster and bowler hat approached Billy. In his hand was a revolver, in the other was a bottle of whiskey. On his face sat a drunken smile while he was crying silently.

“Pat,” Billy said gently “you can’t be doin this.

Shootin up the town, the law don’t...”

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“Don’t you tell me about the law!” Garrett

screamed and aimed his iron sights on Billy’s fore head. “You jus a cattle rustler a thief!”

“I stole what I was owed, five hundred dollars Pat.

What about Dolan stealin from me. He took a lot more from me than five hundred dollars, Pat. Tom O’Folliard, Thomas McSween, John Tunstall. I’d

give up five million dollars to Dolan if it meant they would come back.”

“I’m a bad man, Billy.” Garrett said looking off

some place else in his own mind.

He dropped the bottle which thudded but didn’t

break, he still held onto his pistol however.

“Aw hell Pat, no you aint. You worked for a bad man, forget...”

“No, Billy. I was gonna shoot you in the back that night. Dolan told me to do what I had too, even if it meant that. I was ready to murder you, I wanted so much to be the one to get you. I planed on writing a book, and being rich. Dolan promised me, I made a promise with the devil.”

Garrett looked at his revolver closely studying its deadliness. Billy was hoping he could talk Pat

down and get him to just go to jail peacefully. He wasn’t sure if he could reach his own gun with his hands up in the air quickly enough.

“I made a fool of myself Billy. I owe everybody something. I am sorry about your friends Billy.

Young Tom most of all, I know he was like a

brother to you.”

Garrett raised the gun to his own head and pulled

back the hammer and released the trigger, a click was the only sound, the chamber was empty.

Billy

immediately jumped through the window and

tackled Garrett to the ground, but he made no effort to resist.

Hours later Billy sat in a chair in Tully’s office, with Miguel and Isabella and a US marshal. In the building next to the office was the lock up where Pat Garrett sat in a locked cell being kept guard by the Coe cousins. The Sheriff had to have his arm removed, the bullet all but destroyed the bone

below the elbow.

The town people were angry and wanted to hang

Garrett on the spot, Frank sat at the front door of the jail with a Winchester repeater while George sat by the cell were Garrett was passed out. The citizens had calmed down some since the US

Marshal had arrived.

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The Marshal was a tall man with crisp blue uniform and wore a pair of ivory handled revolvers, he had taken statements from everyone who had witnessed the event. A few reporters

were wandering around outside talking to whoever was willing to talk.

“Do you have reason to believe, Sheriff, Dolan

may have sent Garrett after you again?”

“I don’t believe so, sir. He was drunk and feeling remorseful.”

“Nor do I. From what I gather Mr Dolan lost use of his services years back after he left this office. I believe he’ll hang though, Sheriff.”

“I don’t know how comfortable the town folks

might feel about my new title, Marshal.”

“Sheriff McCarty, I spoke to a lot of folks before I spoke to you. Let me make one thing clear, those people are sayin you a hero, and that if it hadn’t been for you a lot more would have died.”

“Aww hell, Marshal..”

“Sheriff, I’ve seen similar situations like this and they normally end a lot worse. If we had more

lawmen like you twenty years ago, the territories would be in better shape today.”

With Tully losing his arm and Deputy Wilcox dead Billy inadvertently became interim sheriff as the law states, until election time the following year.

After Garrett had his first hearing a week later, he was transfered to County prison but he had hung himself the next morning with a pair of his prison issued trousers.

In the end Billy thought it was better that way, Billy never considered Pat his enemy and felt truly remorseful for him. Dolan had dodged many

questions from the Mesilla about his impromptu

firing of Garrett years back.

“He was good for nothing drunk and degenerate

gambler!” Dolan had been quoted as saying.

It was over now, but things were just getting

started. The population was increasing steadily as Dolan began blasting out his mines and was in

desperate need of men. The money would flow in, and so would trouble.

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Nothing so big as the Lincoln County war, but

Billy knew there was going to be violence. And it seemed Billy, for the time being, was charged with keeping control of Fort Sumner. The election for sheriff was still four or five months away but Billy wasn’t sure he wanted the job, Frank had been at Billy trying to convince him.

“Come on now.” Billy would protest.

“Well why the hell not?! You done got experience.”

“Dolan, thats why not. He can buy anybody he

wants for sheriff” Billy said.

“He aint got this town under his thumb no more, silver mine or not. No one workin them mines can vote anyhow if they aint already been livin here a year, an everyone seen by now he’s an asshole.”

“I don’t know.”

“Perhaps you should, Billy.” Isabella said one night during dinner.

“People trust you Billy. It is as I once told you, when you asked to marry me. Do you remember?”

she said while stirring soup with a ladle.

“Yes, but i don’t want to be a hero.”

“They don’t need a hero, Billy. They need a good man. And I shall stand by and defend you no

matter what your wishes maybe."

Billy thought back to his days regulating back in the 1880s, it was hectic most of the time and hard to keep your head about when you’re out for

justice. Running and gunning and hoping to make it to the next battle with out having to dig too many iron pellets out of your body. Always scrambling for ammo cartridges and looking for sanctuary in every hole in New Mexico.

The biggest decisions back then were made by

candle light with a rifle cocked and ready. Now as a man they were made by the light of a lantern in proper home with a beautiful wife

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stirring a tasty looking soup and ready to help him with this decision. Billy thought for a moment

about it all and laughed.

“What is so funny, Sheriff?” Isabella asked.

Billy got up and kissed his wife on the neck, glad to have her and glad to be alive to enjoy this.

“I just love you so much, I don’t ever want to

forget to tell you that.” he said caressing her cheek with his hand.

“Billy, it’s almost time for dinner.” she spoke with a blush.

Billy took the ladle from his wife’s hand and said:

“I could get killed. I’m not afraid to die,I didn’t used to be, but I don’t want to leave you alone. I’m afraid I’ll die on you.”

She turned to face him with a look of sadness and said: “Nothing can change that, Billy. Someday we all go, if you should die protecting your homeland than it’s as it

should be. But you must first decided if you want to do it, I know you do, other wise you would not be so conflicted.

Do not let me keep you from doing what you feel you have to do.”

She combed his brown hair from his brow with her fingers.

“You were ready to protect El Tiempo, my home

when it needed it. This place, your home needs protected now, Billy.”

“I still don’t know. I haven’t been home very long and I’m sheriff, I still have to be officially recognized or endorsed Connelly said the other day...whatever the hell that means."

“Let’s not worry about that now, Billy." she said damping the stove and untying the back of her

apron.

“What about dinner?" Billy asked but didn’t care at the moment.

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“Wouldn’t you prefer dessert first?" she asked with a gleam in her eye, and took her husband to the bedroom.

“Can I have it again after dinner?” he said with a laugh.

He stepped out the next morning from his ranch

home onto the sturdy pine boards of his porch, it was a cloudy morning with a chill in the air.

Isabella was inside cleaning the breakfast dishes, they saw each other through the window and Billy felt the happiest he had ever felt in that moment as they smiled at each other.

Billy breathed in the fresh morning air with closed eyes and his heart and soul filled. Last night he decided if he got an endorsement, an official one, he would run. In the distance, Frank was

approaching on his horse carrying something in his

hand. Billy stepped out to meet him.

“If your here for breakfast you’re too late.”

“You should read this.” Frank said handing him a copy of the Mesilla News.

It was on the byline of the front page next to a headline about the silver mines getting into full swing. It was another op/ed about Billy titled: Why Billy the Kid should be sheriff Mesilla Staff

writer Robin Teepet.

As I write this piece, I think of the old saying 'In times of war, the law falls silent. That sums up the southwestern territories in the previous quarter century. What war? You ask, take your pick. Cattle war, war with the red savages, war between

fellow Americans armed to the teeth with silver and gold gleaming in their eyes, war with

corruption up and down the municipal government.

When there is war, no matter what kind we

surrender liberty for security as Dr. Franklin once said, and he also said we would deserve neither.

Which is what we have gotten for fear of that we may become a casualty of war. The local

government and wealthy interests in this territory give us their chosen candidates who allow the top of the local economic food chain do as they please, while the bottom 99 percent suffer.

However our previous Sheriff Alexander Tully is an honorable young man who served this county

well and judiciously, he was a welcome reprieve from the usual violent or corrupt

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men that would normally sit in that office. But I as I stated before and I shall again here, I feel he was too young for such a post even in this new century that I hope will not be as bloody as the previous.

That is why I want Billy for Sheriff. He has seen the corruption upon that office, being a victim to it himself. No man should be exiled or lose his life to get a fair trial, whether that man be innocent or

guilty. We the citizens of this territory no longer give the wealthy interests any more power.

But in order for that Billy must run, he has a war record and it’s the cleanest you’ll ever find. He fought in Mexico defending his second home in the tiny village of El Tiempo with a cool head as

cannon fire reigned down on him, though here in the territory some say it is all falsehoods. A local citizen from the tiny Mexican burg and alleged

witness to the cannon bombardment, I met said 'I

was in the Mexican war, Senor. If General Santa Anna had more men like him, New Mexico would

still be Old Mexico.

Brave, loyal, and extremely affable to the residents of Fort Sumner and the entire county. Why haven’t we asked him to run sooner? He saved countless

lives from a former sheriff and never even drew his weapon. I have been given permission by the editor in chief of this publication the announcement

that should Billy run for sheriff we whole

heartedly endorse him and wish him luck.

“You gonna run now?” Frank asked when he

handed back the paper. “Nobody else gonna run

anyway.”

“OK, I’m in.”

Frank went to the paper to announce Billy’s

candidacy. The majority of people in the county had been excited but some, Dolan included, where outraged.

“Irish bastard fuck!” Dolan screamed as he

pounded his fist on his oak lavish desk.

The picture of himself and James Murphy, taken over twenty years ago fell over. Selman immediately picked it up and sat it back on the desk. Selman went over and stood with the men

who worked under him as security at the silver

mine now.

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Since his failure to capture or kill Billy the Kid, Selman was relegated to security on Dolan’s

ranches. Then when Dolan had to sell it off, he became security of the silver mine. It was his brute force and strength that kept Dolan from firing him outright.

“Let that thieving harp run for sheriff. I’ll be burning in hell before I let that son of a bitch run.”

Dolan grabbed a tiny crystal snifter filled with green tea too hard and snapped the stem, and spilling the amber liquid all over.

“Cock sucker!!” he shouted tossing the snifter to the wall were it shattered.

”That‘s what I get for tryin to take a drink.” Dolan snarled as wiped furiously at his fingers with a hankerchief.

“But there aint no one else runnin yet, Mr Dolan.”

Selman said simply.

“No shit! I’ll get somebody else to run. I know who.”

Selman could couldn’t understand his boss’s

obsession with Billy, it was he that had been

permanently scarred by the Kid. If there weren’t so many eyes on his boss, Selman would have been glad to finally put an end to Billy The Kid.

“Who you got in mind?”

“Jack Anderson, he used to ride with Sheriff

Brady. He owes me a big debt, if he can secure the election I’ll let him think were square and he

makes a good mouth piece. He makes you look like a regular Isaac Newton.”

Selman smiled at the joke made at his own

expense, and although the pay was better than good he still hated his boss fiercely. Dolan was good on his word. A few days later another candidate had been announced in the paper.

And for the first few days it seemed like it would be a close race when people got to know the

candidate. But there was an apparent leak on

Anderson’s side of the campaign. His campaign was being financed entirely by Dolan. The Messila

News and The Sun were at war

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with Messila for Billy and The Sun siding with

Anderson stating that there was no wrong doing in funding the candidate they prefer if they had the finances to do so.

Rumors of men, stating that they worked for

Anderson but were paid by Dolan, were harassing men of voting age with warnings to vote for

Anderson or else. Even some West Coast papers

had picked up on the heated election that was still a few weeks away.

It was was a crazy time for Billy, handshakes,

speeches, and answering the same questions over and over. He had thought about it all in bed one night and laughed.

“What are you laughing about?” Isabella asked.

“I never would of thought shaking hands would

hurt my hand more than firing a revolver.” he said rubbing his hand.

It was the day before the election when the biggest surprise came yet. Billy was rewiring a fence

when a group of men where riding towards Billy’s home. The majority of them were dressed in black dusters and hats with a few men riding in the rear wearing the color of blue, while surrounding him were four men dressed in black.

At the head of the group was a large stout man in his early fifties, wearing a pair of wire rim

spectacles on his face. Upon his head sat a khaki colored Stetson, as they approached Billy could see a large even set of teeth.

Billy’s mind was trying to work out who he was seeing, but he wouldn’t let his mind believe it.

They reached the gate as Billy stood there

unbelievably as President Theodore Roosevelt

dismounted his horse and smiled the biggest smile Billy had ever seen.

“Ahhh...” President Roosevelt said after a deep breath. “nothing like a morning ride in the cool to wake up the senses. You must be Sheriff

McCarty.” he said with a hand held out.

“Mr President, uh I...it’s nice to meet you.”

As they shook hands one of the men in black walked up to him.

“Mr President, the press are getting anxious.”

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“Well let them through I suppose. But keep them off the good sheriffs lawn.”

The man lifted his arm, a flock of reporters with pencils and tiny notebooks in hand began to ask the President questions about his impromptu visit.

“I heard some undemocratic things coming out of here against this upstanding citizen right here. I am here to make sure a fellow knickerbocker gets a square deal!”

“So you’re endorsing Sheriff Mccarty, Mr

President?”

“I am, my only regret is that I am not a resident of this county and can not vote for him myself. This man here has done more for his community then

most of the miscreants that have been elected to this position.”

After an hour the reporters were finally satisfied and left. By this time Isabella had joined them as well as Chris Connelly and Susan, and the Coe

Cousins. Escorting the president was the secret service, since the murder of his predecessor it was hard for him to enjoy a morning ride in solitude.

Also riding with him was his eldest and most

beautiful daughter, Alice. She wore a pair of

slacks as she rode on her horse while wearing a hat similar to her male counter parts. She

dismounted and approached her father and Billy.

“Wow, her ass looks great in pants.” George

whispered, and was promptly elbowed by his

cousin.

“pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms

Roosevelt.” said Billy.

“Thank you, Sheriff. Would you happen to know

where the nearest lodge is? My father refuses to understand the term saddle sore.”

Before Billy could answer the President clicked his tongue in his mouth.

“Now, Alice. I told you not to come riding as it is, you are the cause of your own discomfort.”

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“And I suppose you’d have me riding side saddle like some ninny in a vaudeville act, eh being

strangled by petticoats below the waist.” she

argued back.

President Roosevelt rolled his eyes.

“Please, Mr President, Ms Roosevelt. If you would like to come in and sit and have some tea we would be honored.” Isabella said.

“That would be Bully!” President Roosevelt

exclaimed.

Billy had spent the day before the election with President Roosevelt at his side, imploring the

undecided who they should cast their vote for. By that evening Billy and the president had possibly shaken hands with every voting male in the county.

The election came and went without incident’s of electioneering, nor was there any hint of

intimidation on either side. After the election, the final vote tally can take weeks but Billy had been

voted for in a virtual landslide, it didn’t take long to officially declare him winner, in the end count he had gotten more than seventy percent of the

votes.

Billy took the oath again, but this time it felt right to him, proper. And as he walked out on the

streets of Fort Sumner with a pair of revolvers and a gleaming star on his chest, he felt it all sink in and thought of Tom.

“Tom, if you could see me now.” Billy said hoping that the worst was behind him now, and forever.

Date: April 9, 1906 Universe: 4

Butch Cargill sat on a dusty old rocker, just outside the opening of the silver mine as the sunset on that Friday evening, annoyed. Another weekend

guarding the mine while in town beer was being

poured and women were being plowed in

celebration of another work weeks end.

Just a few feet away from Butch was Chad Plum his usual partner during the weekend shift.

Butch

let out a breath of disgust as Chad fiddled with his own rocker which had a broken leg. Least that

hamburger face could do was get us working

chairs! Butch thought angrily.

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When he had first come to town months ago, he

was anticipating nothing but money in his pocket and tits in his face. He arrived and went to see the mine’s foreman but said the only positions that still needed filled was security. Which wasn’t the

worst thing, Butch was still uneasy about going underground.

At least security would keep him topside and he still got hazard pay. There was no training, as long as you knew how to use a firearm, Selman

welcomed you aboard. He was an ugly and mean

son of as bitch, he would knock you down if you so much as looked at him the wrong way.

“Aw fuck it!” Chad yelled at the broken rocker.

He kicked it hard enough to break the other leg and then picked it up and tossed it into the darkness away from the camp fire they had built. Butch

grinded his teeth in disgust, the chair was the least of the problems Butch had.

A few weeks earlier the well that they finally

finished digging was fully operational, but the water tasted horrible. Then there were the coyotes

that howled most of the night, he had heard coyotes before since he was from California originally, but they sounded different here. The thing that scared him most was that people just seemed to be

dropping like flies, in the past two weeks three men had just up and died.

He heard Selman talking about it with another

foreman a few nights ago.

“Not even forty and his fuckin ticker gave up.

Doctor don’t think he was water poisoned though.”

And then one guy who worked the overnight shift by himself during the week just disappeared.

Didn’t take a thing with him, just rolled up his copy of The Sun with a partly finished word

jumble put it on the ground next to his rifle and took a walk, never to be seen again. Chad was still kicking at rocker spitting curses at it in a frenzy.

“Shit, Chad just sit on the fucking ground.” Butch said starting to get annoyed with Chad’s temper tantrum.

Chad was always making a spectacle of any minor thing and explode with cursing and shouting like a belligerent drunk though he was sober as a priest.

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“Stupid fucking cunt chair! Fucking fucker rocker!

“ he said stomping over towards the camp fire.

“Cheap dirty cock suckers!” Chad continued as he sat down on the dusty cold ground.

“Fucker Selman, stuck in here for another

fucking...”

“Shut the fuck up! I ain’t in the mood for your fuckin jawin.”

Chad looked up at Butch in his rocker with

disdain.

“Least you got a chair! My fucking ass stuck on the ground you fuck....”

Just then the the sound of hooves and the whinny of a horse greeted them just in the darkness. Selman rode close to the fire, the camp fire showed the gleam of scar tissue on his face. Though Butch and Chad were big men, five ten and five eleven

respectfully, Selman was taller and heavier and they feared him.

He chewed slowly on a wad of tobacco looking at both men who had risen from where they sat. He

took a quick circle around the fire and spit a

stream of goo into the fire causing it to sizzle.

“You boys need to use your eyes as much as you

do your fuckin lips. You want I’ll get another pair a boys to do your job and you get spend the

weekend sticking your cocks in a greased hole

since you won’t have money for real trim.” he said spitting into the fire again.

“No, sir, Mr Selman.” Butch said.

“Yeah, we was just blowin off some steam is all.”

Chad said fearfully.

Butch was pissed Chad said ‘we’ Butch was more

than content with the situation.

“We’re your rifles?”

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Butch’s sat leaning next to his rocking chair.

Chad’s was laying in the dirt were his chair had once sat.

“Pick that fucking thing up! I’ll stick that up your ass you leave that lyin the fuck around and dock ya for it!”

Chad ran and picked up the rifle and held it up at chest height, smiling like a dumb dog.

“Worthless fuck! Keep your eyes out for thieves.”

Selman said before riding off towards town.

When Selman was long gone both the men sat

down with a quick sigh of relief. Selman was

pissed and they were lucky not to get fired. The silver mines were the best paying job around and Butch was happy to get away with just a scolding.

“Fucking Selman,” Chad said. “I ain’t afraid of the burned up hunk of beef. Fuck his mother.”

“I’d like to see you say that too him, ya fuckin pus.”

“Ah shit, I’d kick his ass in a proper fight. The sheriff kicked his ass once and he a short fucker.”

HA! Butch thought. The sheriff was one of the bravest men between here and California. The

thought that Chad was even remotely as tough as Sheriff McCarty was funnier than a pig flying.

“You’d shit your pants like a bitch if Selman came back right now.”

A howl from a coyote cut through their

conversation like a hot knife through butter. They both looked around, the howl was close.

“Fuckin coyotes.” Chad said with goose bumps

forming on his arms.

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“You scared? I thought you weren’t scared of nothin?” Butch said noticing Chad’s arms.

“Shit I aint! They was loud is all, I got sensitive ears.”

“My ass. If one of them came walking up right now you’d be climbing up that fuckin mountain ya

fuckin half a sissy.”

Chad’s face was red with the biggest set of pouted

lips Butch had ever seen.

“I ain’t a sissy! I hunted coyotes, they aint shit!”

Chad said spitting between words.

“Oh yeah?!”

“Yeah, I killed plenty!”

“Let’s see it then.”

Butch went to a pack he had sitting behind his

rocker, in it was strips of jerky for his midnight dinner. He showed Chad the strips and threw them out into the night. He was sacrificing his days meal, but if it meant shutting Chad up it was worth the sacrifice.

Butch grabbed the rifle he was using and gave it to Chad. He knew it worked and didn’t want Chad

trying to make some excuse.

“Here you go. Bait’s hooked, go fish.”

“Wh...where you goin?” Chad said worried.

“I’m goin for a squat, you should have that fucker skinned by the time I got my ass wiped.” Butch

said heading towards a hole dug on the other side of the mine.

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He found it without a light and managed not to fall in head first. He always had the hardest time going when not in an outhouse. He felt vulnerable and found himself looking around in fear for whatever reason.

“Fuckin Chad.” He said trying to forget the moment of fear that came over him.

Now that he was angry he couldn’t go, his

intestines felt tied up in knots of anger.

“God damn it.” he said.

He couldn’t go but waited patiently squatting over the whole with pants and thermals down to his

knees. He stopped thinking about it and tried to ease his mind. He felt his bowels finally start to

relax when a loud shriek and a rage filled roar echoed all around him.

Butch jumped up and pulled his pants with a yelp.

He had gotten his genitals pinched between his

pants and belt. He hurriedly tucked himself into his pants forgetting his need to squat.

“Chad,” He said weakly.

Butch slowly adjusted his pants looking back

towards the direction of the fire just out of sight behind a sizable boulder. He looked around

quickly for his rifle before he remembered where it was. Butch licked his lips and began to walk towards camp.

“Chad,” Butch said again a little louder.

He came around the large boulder but no one was there. He walked towards the camp fire when he

saw a puddle of red. It had spilled out from Chad or what was left of him. His torso looked like it had been ripped open, Butch could see the

beginnings of his rib cage and a hip bone

protruding from his left leg which looked like it had a chunk of meat ripped clean from him in one large bite.

Chads face was white, his mouth was slightly open with blood coating his lips like a vulgar red paint.

Beside his massacred corpse was Butch’s rifle.

The urge to vomit came over him though he had

nothing but stomach bile to regurgitate he fought it off some how, even when he saw his own

reflection in Chad’s glassy dead eyes.

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Butch walked around the body and picked up the

rifle sitting just a few feet from Chad’s corpse. The rifle was unfired and fully loaded. A few feet

further away, Butch saw a bloody paw print,

followed by another and another heading out into darkness. Butch took a deep breath and followed them, he didn’t want to lose his job. He went out of the comforting light of the fire and back into the dark gloom of night.

He didn’t hear anything but kept his rifle high. If it was an animal with rabies it wouldn’t think twice about coming back, though he never seen an

animal, rabid or not, do that to a man. A bear might but they were rare this far south but if it wasn’t an animal then...what a monster?

Butch tried to laugh at the thought but couldn’t, he had been reading that book that came out a few years back called 'Dracula’ and thought of the the Russian ship where something was eating the crew one man at a time...but he didn’t want to remember

that part right now. He crept slowly in the direction the prints were, though he could no

longer see them. He came to a cluster of rocks that looked like a natural wall that went out into the abyss of desert, he carefully climbed up and

looked towards the mountains.

It was open but so dark he couldn’t see much, just the dark outline of mountains underneath a sky

peppered generously with stars. Whatever had

killed Chad was gone. Butch lowered the rifle to his side with an easy sigh.

He’d have to leave the mine unattended and go find Selman, who would be all kinds of pissed. He was thinking of the bashing he would get from Selman when he turned around and was greeted with a pair of ghostly green eyes. They were looking right at him, less than twenty feet away from him.

The creature was standing on the same rocky

formation he was, silent and still. Butch felt his bowels let go and fill his pants but he did not notice. Behind those eyes came a deep throaty

growl, it was then he realized the creature was on all fours but was still eye level to him. Butch began to shake uncontrollably as the eyes came

closer.

Butch gripped the rifle still in his hands as the

green eyes seemed to dim, which was followed by another growl, louder, meaner, hungrier. Butch

slowly began to raise the rifle, the creature snarled causing Butch to slip and fall to the ground.

The creature snarled again and jumped down

slowly moving forward, all Butch could see were those ghostly eyes of emerald. Butch began to

weep.

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“holymarymotherofgod” he said rasing the rifle on the approaching monster. “prayforussinners”

He pulled the trigger but the shot did nothing but anger the beast.

“nowandatthehourofourdeath” he said in a whisper as he chambered another round.

He pulled the trigger and missed, then it pounced on him and began to eat as he cried out the word amen.

To Be Continued