Ways Of The West

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Ways Of The West - book excerpt

Chapter 1

Sheriff Bill Hawkins could hear them singing down at the church. The Sheriff was hardly a religious man, but he liked to hear all those voices singing in unison of a Sunday. It gave him the feeling there were lots of good people in the town, all of them with the same idea in their minds.

            He’d never been tempted to attend any of the services himself, but he respected those who did. Even if, as had happened today, the noise they made disturbed his slumbers. He liked to think of the good people of Monkford all huddling into the small church, to praise the Lord. Liked to think of them all being happy in their time of worship. Liked to think of them being happy in their faith in the Lord as well as in themselves and their town.

            He got up out of bed and shook his head. Still a little groggy from the previous night’s drinking, he went over to the sink and splashed some water on his face. He was just putting his trousers on, when the singing stopped abruptly. Something didn’t feel right, he thought. Why had it stopped like that?

            Hawkins went over to the window and peered out. The sun was already up, and the street was empty of life down below. Something was up: he could feel it in his gut. And whatever it was, he didn’t like it.

            He finished dressing in a hurry, tied on his gun belt, with his vintage Colt in the holster, and hurried out of the house. His boots raised the dust as he made his way along the main drag. He heard the neighing of a horse as he passed the livery stable. Nothing going on at the bank, as you’d expect on a Sunday. Just then, the batwings of the saloon opened, and Ben Culler came out. Hawkins looked over, and Culler tipped his hat and said, ‘Sheriff.’

            ‘Ben,’ Sheriff Hawkins said. ‘You seen anything happenin’ that shouldn’t be?

            Culler shook his head. ‘No, I just been havin’ myself a little whiskey, to praise the good Lord in my own quiet way.’

             ‘Seen Steve?’

            Culler’s bony face creased in a smile. ‘Sleeping off what he drunk last night I shouldn’t wonder.’

            Hawkins didn’t have time to go round to Steve’s place and get him out of bed. Whatever was happening at the church called for his urgent attention. Sensing there wasn’t a moment to lose, he pressed on. As he passed the tailor’s, he found himself hoping the singing would start up again. He would have liked to be able to turn around and go back to bed. His head was thumping, on account of last night’s Bourbon, and he could really have used another couple of hours to sleep off his hangover.

            Then the singing resumed. Only somehow Sheriff Hawkins didn’t like the sound of it. It wasn’t the singing itself exactly that he didn’t like. Hard to say what it was. Just a moment ago, he’d been hoping it would resume so he’d be able to turn around and go back to bed. Only he wasn’t about to do that, not now. Now until he’d gone into the church, and checked that everything was as it should be. He wanted to see it with his own eyes.

            At that moment, three men emerged from the church. There must have been at least one hundred paces separating the Sheriff and the three men, but they didn’t look like God-fearing folk to him. He reckoned he could tell, even at this distance, the sort they were. The no-good sort. The sort he didn’t want to see in his town. And if he did see them, then he wanted to hurry up and see the back of them. Only here they were, just having come out of the church, and with the congregation once more booming out the hymn they’d stopped singing earlier.

            Every nerve in Hawkins’s body told him something wasn’t right. Men of this sort didn’t attend church. And if they did, then…well, you knew they were up to no good.

            A fourth man emerged from the church, and he had a young woman with him. If the Sheriff’s eyes weren’t deceiving him, it looked like it was the Minister’s wife, Kate. She was a fine figure of a woman, and a real good sort, too.

            And now here she was, with this no-good looking sort. Only it was clear she hadn’t left the church with the man of her own choosing. The shove the man gave her in the back would have set Sheriff Hawkins straight on that score, if he hadn’t already been wise to the situation. Then he saw that she had her hands tied behind her back, and that the man had his gun out.

            Realizing that he was hopelessly outnumbered, Hawkins knew he had to think fast. It would be no good trying to take the four of them all by himself, here, outside the church. They’d gun him down as easy as a you’d squat a fly. He might be fast enough to take out one or maybe even two of them, but he’d never get all four.

            He turned and hurried down to the store, which was at the far end of the street, near to the bank. Got to the door just as John Collins, the man who ran it, was about to close for the day. ‘Good idea, John,’ Hawkins said. ‘Better let me in before you lock up, though. Wouldn’t want to turn away one of your best customers, I’m sure.’

            The man looked uneasy and put out, but realizing he could hardly turn away the Sheriff, he allowed Hawkins to enter, before locking up for the day. ‘Man with a nose for trouble like yours’d make a good sheriff, John.’

            ‘I don’t want any trouble.’ The storekeeper’s eyes were alive with fear.

            ‘No more do I,’ Hawkins said. ‘But like it or not, trouble’s what we got.’

            The storekeeper pulled the curtain aside and peered out through the window at the street. ‘There they come,’ he said. ‘They’ve got a woman with them…it’s the Minister’s wife.’

            Peering out over the head of the diminutive storekeeper, the Sheriff saw the four men coming this way down the main drag, casting shadows before them and taking their time like they had no reason to hurry. The Minister’s wife, Kate Sherrin, walked just ahead of them, and whenever she slowed one of them would speed her up with a shove in the back. The men were spread out, and looked like they reckoned they owned the place. Like the town of Monkford was all theirs to do with as they pleased.

Hawkins knew it was up to him to put a stop to what these men were up to; but he couldn’t do it single-handed, and he didn’t know if he could count on anyone else to lend him a hand. He could sure have done with his Deputy, Steve, being here right now. But he wasn’t here, and so Hawkins knew he’d just have to make-do as best he could.

            ‘I wonder what they’re going to do?’ the storekeeper said.

            Without taking his eyes off the four men, as he continued to peer out the window, Hawkins said, ‘I’d lay money they’re headed for the bank.’

            ‘They’re going to rob it, you mean?’

            ‘Shouldn’t wonder.’

            ‘And why do you reckon they’ve got the woman with them?’

            ‘They’ll be figuring on using her as a shield if they have to.’

            ‘To stop anyone shooting at them?’

Seeing that Sheriff Hawkins wasn’t about to respond, the storekeeper said, ‘Don’t reckon they’re planning on killing her, do you?’

            ‘I hadn’t got to thinkin’ that far ahead, John.’

            ‘But I bet they must have done.’