Authentic Tales of the West: Part 14

Bret is Revealed

Arnold Ashford’s Journal Entry #14

Unbeknownst to me, I was part of that vile plan. The folk of Abilene had been making good headway on that new Doctor’s Office; and good work usually meant lively evenings. People winding down from a hard day in the Saloon. Which is right where Bret Beauville had been parking himself for the previous three nights. On this night though, those cold eyes lit up with a danger that I’d not seen before. Because those eyes fastened right onto me!

 I was sitting with a group at a table near to that corner where Bret was skulking. I had been keeping one eye darting back over to the shadow in the corner every few seconds, but when the local Rancher came in and bought a round for everybody, the whole Saloon gave a loud cheer. It was at that moment that I felt a hand grip my throat and a dull thud clapped me in my right temple. I was being pulled toward a pair of eyes filled with malice and greed, with a big iron pressed into my head.

 The next few minutes felt like hours but passed in seconds. I heard this gravelly, nasally voice holler from what seemed like inside of my left ear. I’m told he was barking out his demands to the Rancher; I can’t remember a word of it. I do remember Rusty Cobb bursting through the front of the Saloon in a slow-motion flash of movement, I remember his eyes meeting mine, and I can remember the expression slowly change on his face as they did so.

 In what was almost like an actor mimicking a man moving slowly as if underwater, Rusty’s hands crept upward once he saw my predicament. The very instant that his hands reached his hat, an explosion went off next to my head. Bret must’ve gotten what he wanted, because when my head stopped ringing, he was nowhere to be found. And Rusty Cobb lay dead on the floor of that Saloon.

— Check back next week for a new entry in Ashford’s journal —