An Incident At The L. C. Saloon
By Mike Gombas Sr.
A persistent driving downpour
Transformed into a quagmire the roads and byways
Getting about was a soggy, unpleasant chore
For ranch hands looking for strays
Life had slowed to an insufferable pace
For the fed up, waterlogged farmers of the settlement
Mothers struggled with unruly children about the fireplace
While the men gathered at the saloon to drown their discontent
The Last Chance Saloon wasn't much of a sort
Just a Leaky old barn that was converted for the use
Also served as the seat of the Circuit Court
When his honor came calling, with the law and a noose
The converted watering hole was sparsely laid out
Opposite the rough hewn bar there were four tables and a few chairs
In the corner stood a potbellied stove with a tall, black spout
An upright-piano sat facing the door under the wooden stairs
The poorly lit, musty loft contained a few tiny rooms for hire
For those rare occasions when a visitor was willing to pay the fare
It has been quite a while since a customer paid a silver dollar
To take his nightly rest, in the lap of luxury... up there
***
Josh Johnson lived in a dilapidated cottage at the edge of town
With his widowed mother and younger sister
Most folks considered him to be a good for nothing clown
Who would never become anything but a freeloading drifter
Josh was blessed with striking, cerulean blue eyes
High cheek bones and shoulder length raven black hair
Many a farmers daughter had coveted the far to willing prize
The dangerous young man with an easy charm and unusual flair
The lad was sixteen years old with a strong, wiry frame
Yet, he was not much help to make ends meet
He always found someone else to blame
When he was let go for malingering or leaving a job incomplete
His mother took in sewing and loads of wash
From the town folks who felt it to be their Christian obligation
Sometimes they brought a side of venison or a basket filled with squash
To help ease the hardworking widow woman's situation
Years ago, the barkeep lost his daughter to the fever
Polly Johnson nursed her dear friend to the last
Her father never forgot how Polly risking her life to save her
He gladly helped out with the heavy lifting since Jed Johnson passed
Polly's husband died a year after Charity was born
Jed met his maker when his horse was spooked by a rattler
When he fell, his foot got tangled around the saddle horn
He was found with a broken neck by a cowboy looking for a straggler
Mrs. Johnson was thirty three but the years had not been kind
Her once lustrous raven dark hair had long lost its sheen
Her gentle mannerisms indicated a life that was once refined
In another life, so long ago, when she was seventeen
***
Josh was a difficult lad even before the accident
There was a strong willfulness in his character
Everyone could see that he would grow up to be obstinate
Especially after his fathers guiding hand was no longer a factor
Mrs. Polly lovingly forgave her son his many transgressions
Believing that in time, he would grow out of his unruly ways
Yet, she had often prayed during confessions
For the Lord Savior to guide her son, out of his destructive phase
***
A half hour before sunset a traveler entered Main Street
Riding a leathered Appaloosa splashing through the mud
The tall, middle-aged man sat hunched over his worn, leather seat
As the rain poured of his Stetson, duster and his weary stud
The horse instinctively trudged his way to the livery
Where the rider dismounted and made arrangements with the keep
Then inquired; where can I find the apothecary?
And a dry place, where I might get a few hours of sleep?
We have a man in town he sets bones and such
The Last Chance Saloon is where you'll find him
I don't recon he'd charge much
The man is a faro dealer and goes by the name, Slim
The rider thanked the man and paid the nightly fare
And with his rifle in hand and with his saddlebags over his shoulder
He walked out into the damp nightly air
That since the sun went down, felt much colder
***
There were a dozen or so town folks in the saloon
Playing cards or pouring a heady brew from a masonry jar
A man named Slim sat by the piano playing a tune
When the stranger entered the saloon and walked over to the bar
Barkeep whiskey, said the stranger
As he shook of the rain from his hat and duster
The smiling Swede replied; that will be two bits mister
The stranger threw a couple of new silver dollars onto a coaster
The noise of the smoke filled place fell abruptly still
The arrival of the unexpected visitor turned everyone's head
All the men folks had seen the yellowing handbill
With a drawing of a fugitive, wanted alive or dead
A good argument could be made
That the man leaning against the bar with a shot glass in his hand
Was the man who escaped a hanging at a stockade
For killing a lawman south of the Rio Grand
The piano player who also dealt faro
Reached for a revolver concealed in his boot
Having recognized the man who he cheated years ago
With a pair of loaded dice on a paddleboat of ill repute
Before he could bring the weapon to bear
He heard a dispassionate, unwavering voice
And looked into the steel gray eye of deaths icy stare
...I'd make a better choice
Don't do it Bill ... give me a chance to explain
I'll repay every penny... and more
You have nothing to lose and everything to gain
Let me set right our lopsided score
Relax Slim; I am not here for retribution
I didn't know you were in these here parts
There is a way you can make restitution
I hear you are the local practitioner of the healing arts
I have a scratch that needs tending
If you patch me up good, I'll forgive your thieving ways
And forget our present misunderstanding
Or ...right here and now....I'll end your days
Slim was somewhat relieved
And carefully slid the small caliber revolver into his boot
Though there was a chance he was being deceived
Bill had the drop on him and there was no doubt he would shoot
Come upstairs Bill, I'll do what I can
In a loft room is where I keep my gear
I was given free lodging being the apothecary man
I hope for my sake, that your condition is not to severe
William Penny did not trust the gamblers kindly pretension
He kept his well oiled forty four loosely in play
Disregarding the onlookers stunned reaction
He followed his double dealing host without any further delay
***
Although it was still raining powerful hard the following morning
Word spread like wildfire throughout the settlement
Every homestead within reach had received the warning
Stay clear of the L.C. Saloon's newly registered resident
***
An hour before noon the rain slowed to a fine drizzle
Farmers inspected their soggy fields cowhands rode the tree line
Mrs. Johnson hitched her wagon and haltered her mule's muzzle
And nudged in the towns direction, Old Crabby Clementine
***
Josh was on his way to his usual hideaway
When he crossed paths with Bob a drover from the double D
He was eager to tell the lad about the previous night's gunplay
And about the mysterious stranger who faced down Slim so easily
***
Slim drifted into town a couple of years ago
It was no secret that he was a gambler on the Mississippi
Rumor had it that he practiced medicine in Laredo
And was forced leave town, after performing a procedure illegally
The tall, gaunt gamblers pasty, pockmarked features
Were overshadowed by a huge, hawkish nose
In his narrow mouth he wore a brace of gold filled dentures
And in the lapel of his dude like duds, he wore a yellow rose
Slim was known to be deadly with weapons of every kind
He killed or wounded five men, in a more or less fair fight
But when he found out that he cheated Will Penny in a blind
He gave up his life on the riverboat and fled that very same night
***
Josh was blown away by Bob's retelling
In his mind, no one could best his hero, Riverboat Slim
His exploits had inspired many fancy imagining
Of daring shootist's, in desperate situations, risking life and limb
This curious stranger was someone Josh had to see
Trouble tended to follow such man of questionable repute
There could be a chance encounter with destiny
The boy was not about to miss such rare moment of truth
***
In a nearby ravine were the ruins of a mud brick dwelling
With its thatched roof fallen in and the walls mostly washed away
This secluded spot was where Josh spent his time practicing
Aiming at tin cans, propped against the hard baked clay
He found a revolver and boxes of ammunition
Wrapped in an oilcloth and hidden by a fallen rafter
The rare discovery fulfilled Josh's most fervent ambition
And through much practice, his draw had become faster and faster
The excited lad was in a great hurry to reach his favorite site
But when he entered the ravine he smelled smoke in the air
And at the ruins there were signs of two riders, who spent the night
And folded camp about sunup, leaving an unmistakable trail
Josh found the revolver, gun belt and boxes of ammo
Exactly where he hid it, under a fallen beam
And after he strapped on the weapon he left the hollow
Skirting the ravine bottom that had turned into a turbulent stream
***
Mrs. Poly had dropped off most of her neatly folded wash
She had only one more delivery to make
The weary widow had wondered what had become of Josh
Since he left the house an hour or so after daybreak
***
Slim noticed the freshly minted double eagles
And wondered how many more Bill had in his money belt
Though the loot was guarded by Will Pennies pistols
If he was carful, there could be an Ace in the deck fortune dealt
For now it was premature to let slip his true intensions
Even with his wounded shoulder Bill was far too lethal
Slim would bide his time and keep up his pretentions
Until the outcome of his betrayal, would not be personally fatal
***
The rain started again but with slightly diminished intensity
The fog lifted just enough to allow a view of the nearby summit
About two in the afternoon a pair of riders rode up to the livery
And inquired about the man who made last nights deposit
The riders appeared to have been on the trail for a quite a while
They were bounty hunters carrying pistols and rifles of heavy caliber
Their driven aspect bespoke of men who were intensely volatile
Who preferred to end arguments with a bullet from a Spencer
***
William Penny woke up that morning and removed the chair
He wedged under the doorknob for added security
Opened the window to let in some fresh air
And ordered a plate of steak and eggs from the local eatery
He pulled on his boots and tucked in his shirttail
Checked the saddlebags concealed under the bed
While wondering if the bounty hunters were still on his trail
After the botched ambush attempt that left two of them dead
Bill poured some cold water into a metal washbasin
Opened his razor and began shaving his weatherworn face
And as the naked blade glided across his prominent chin
He recalled a life of a tumbleweed; drifting from place to place
The shaving mirror reflected Bill's blue eyes that saw too much death
Yet, he was proud that he never killed for pleasure
Though his thunder and lightning had taken away many men's breath
He refused to hire out his guns for ill gotten treasure
Combing his long dark hair Bill noted the silver strands
And wondered where all the years have gone
Fighting someone else's fight protecting someone else's lands
The years slipped on by, unnoticed, behind the gun
***
A little after one, Will Penny reconciled his outstanding debt
Paid a boy to fetch his horse from the stable
Sat down by the pot belied stove and rolled a cigarette
And ordered a bottle of whiskey to be brought to his table
***
Slim sat on the edge of his cot with a loaded revolver by his side
Trying to screw up his courage to do the backhanded deed
Knowing that if he failed he would be committing suicide
And pay the ultimate price for giving in too his treacherous need
***
Josh made it to the saloon a few minutes after three
Mrs. Poly was just coming out of the general store
She saw two men push past Josh and walked in to the L.C.
To her dismay Josh was wearing a gun belt standing by the door
***
Though the bounty hunters recognized Bill's horse at the rail
They were taken in by his clean shaven appearance
Neither one had seen him clearly on the trail
And the poster wasn't much more than a vague reference
Of the four cousins hired by a cattle baron
Only two vengeful kindred remained to collect the bounty
But the man who killed their kin didn't look like the aging patron
Who sat by the stove smoking and drinking politely
Where is the owner of that pony outside?
Growled the taller of the two
The Swede took the question in stride
He would be the gentleman, seated behind you
For a heartbeat there was an awkward silence
In the mirror the cousins could see Bill's carefree disposition
A second later the saloon erupted in thundering violence
As they dove for cover in an effort to fulfill their deadly ambition
Bill was not deceived by the bounty hunters reaction
One cousin was dead before he landed in a heap
While his kin crashed behind the bar seeking protection
Bowling over stools and the astonished bar keep
***
Josh had never seen such lightning fast gunplay
He was mesmerized by Bills lethal speed and accuracy
Mrs. Polly froze among the rivulets, lakes and soggy clay
When she heard the thunder of gunfire coming from the L. C.
***
Slim was shocked out of his musings by the sudden volley
With revolver in hand he opened the door a crack
Directly he saw that his vantage point on the balcony
Afforded him a perfect spot, to carry out a back handed attack
***
The last bounty hunter had dropped his Spencer repeater
During his desperate scamper a few seconds before
He was glad to get hold of the scattergun behind the counter
Both barrels loaded with buckshot, would even the score
William Penny ... you cold blooded bastard
You kilt my kin' I'll send you to hell
Bill checked his gun ....didn't say a word
And deliberately loaded a shell
The bounty hunter fired a barrel to give himself cover
Dove toward a table to get a clear shot
Fired his second load in mid air and landed with a clutter
As his pellets ricocheted harmlessly off of the cast iron pot
Behind the table he reloaded and made ready
To take advantage of a better angle and a closer range
Slim realized that this was the moment of destiny
He would make his move, during the next exchange
***
Once more the bounty hunter fired both barrels in Bill's direction
Then peeked over the table's edge to direct his aim
Slim stepped from behind the column's protection
And dealt himself into the deadly game
From the corner of his eye Bill saw movement on the balcony
He rolled and fired hitting the man behind the table in the head
His instincts nearly saved him from Slims treachery
As most of his duplicitous fuselage bounced off the stove instead
One bullet that reechoed of the iron pot hit Bill in the side
Lodging in his lung after ripping through his torso
But not before Bill's return fire caught Slim in mid stride
Shot in the stomach, he fell over the railing onto the sawdust bellow
When Josh saw his mentor tumble over the banister
He burst into the saloon with his gun at the ready
Bill heard the creaking of the doors and was a breath faster
Though he was hit hard, his aim was good his hand was steady
Yet, for some unknown reason he didn't fire
There was something odd about the lad's blue eyes and wavy dark hair
A crazed woman pushed Josh aside foiling his brash desire
Don't kill my boy mister, she shouted, her voice filled with despair
In that strange moment when the universe was in perfect balance
Bill's fading vision and the woman's pleading eyes met
There must have been a nod to the eternal divine in that glance
Along with surprise, recognition and a lifetime of regret
Before his six shooter fell onto the floor
Bill fired a single shot
Hitting Joshes gun hand with the slug from the forty four
Then Bill slumped onto the ground behind the cast-iron pot
The End
Epilogue
There are three unmarked graves on Boot Hill
Some say there should have been four
No one knows what happened to Bill
He had disappeared into fanciful western lore
Mrs. Johnson moved to San Francisco
Word got around that a rich relation left her a fortune
On days when a storm raged over the high plateau
She shed a tear for the man who died at the L. C. Saloon
Joshua's hand mended well enough to hold most tools
Though, he would never again draw a revolver
His mother enrolled him in the finest schools
And in time, he had become a respected editor and reporter
***
By the side of an alpine trail on a south facing plateau
A granite boulder stands in a field of Forget Me Not
Last Chance 1858 is etched on its side in a neat row
Causing traveler's to wonder, as they pass by that solitary spot
