by: Denise Wallan

Marshal Duke

The spotted Appaloosa stepped from the trail into town, its riders head tipped forward, his eyes looking at the ground with an eye of profession. The bright sunshine caught the Marshal’s badge on his cow hide vest an it shined brightly as the light of the sun beat down on it.

The Marshal eased the horse onto the well worn road into town, the hoof prints that the Deputy Marshal had been following slowly but surely disappeared among thousands of similar other tracks. Bewildered, the young dark haired Marshal brought the horse to a stop at the edge of town and sighed, he had lost the tracks.

“Looks like we did all that fer’ nothing hoss.” The young Marshal shook his head and road on into the town.

He was almost sure that the person he’d been tracking had ridden right into the town and not around it. Highly unlikely as it was, that the outlaw would ride right into the town, even if it was the outlaws place of birth it would be a stupid move. None the less, it was possible, the Marshal thought to himself as he road up to the front of the supply store.

An if anyone, even an outlaw passing through in a hurry, came through they had to stop at the supply store before moving on. There wasn’t another town for miles and miles, an even the hardiest of people couldn’t survive without getting supplies of some kind.

The young dark haired Marshal stepped his horse up to the hitching rail and halted there dismounting and then tethering the horse to the rail. The young Marshal stood before the supply store, a clean shaved and decently friendly face with soft features. His black hair combed back neatly under his dark brown Stetson, his white shirt neatly pressed an peeking out from under his cow hide vest, buttoned up neatly and his black dress pants clean an fresh.

He walked up the steps of the store, his black boots shined and he was met at the entrance by the young, timid clerk. The clerk said nothing, the look of fear still written on his face as clear as the sun shine that beat down through the cloudless sky. The young timid clerk pointed in the direction of the saloon, words weren’t needed to tell the Marshal that this boy had seen the outlaw that he was hunting.

The dark haired Marshal nodded, his eyes never leaving the younger mans eyes until he turned and descended the steps and untied his horse from the rail. He turned his back and led the spotted Appaloosa down the street towards the saloon, the dust kicked up from his shined boots with every step. An the people in the streets nodded or waved a friendly hello to him as he passed through, business written on his face, like usual.

Cautiously he approached the rail out front of the saloon, his gentle eyes peered around looking over the horses that stood at the rail. The horse that he had been tracking was not any of them that stood there, he stepped up onto the boardwalk an walked past the entrance of the saloon. He glances around the corner of the building, and his suspicions were confirmed, there stood a blue roan mustang stallion, with splashy white paint marks, dozing quietly in the shade. The deputy smiled to himself, his trip through the wilderness hadn’t been a complete loss after all.

The Marshal returned to the entrance of the saloon and paused at the hitching rail to acquire his rifle from its scabbard on his saddle. He rested the barrel of the gun on his left shoulder and entered the saloon, his eyes scanning the room thoroughly. But his outlaw was nowhere in sight so he approached the bar and order a glass of sarsaparilla an leaned against the bar an tried to look casual.

“You looking fer someone Marshal?” The bartender asked as he wiped off the bar.

“”Why yes, yes I am.” The Marshal replied as he took a gulp from his glass and set it back down an looked at the tender, who he had known since he was a child. And the tender knew who he was looking for and he gave up his fun and games and pointed up the stairs towards the second floor rooms.

“Thank ya.” The Marshal replied and started up the stairs towards the rooms there, where games of Faro and Poker were going on.

The young dark haired Marshal shook his head, the outlaw he was hunting had always been one hell of a gambler, he couldn’t remember the man ever losing. He levered a slug into the chamber of the rifle of the gun, his ears hearing the sudden shudder of the building and the clatter of chairs and feet as half of the people down stairs took shelter.

The stairs creaked with the Marshal’s weight as he topped them and walked down the hallway to the Faro room at the end. Faro was his outlaw’s choice of game, it had always been and it would always be. He approached the open door of the room and leaned his back against the wall, his rifle ready in his hands as he prepared himself to take a peek into the room to catch an eye full of his outlaw.

But when he peeked around the door frame and into the room, he didn’t see the face he was searching for and he moved into the door way with caution. Still his outlaws face did not meet his eyes, he moved into the room a little more an turned his head from side to side an then….his heart stood still as he herd the instinctive sound of a pair of .45’s clearing leather.

As fast as he herd the .45’s drawn he dropped to the floor and rolled back into the door way and onto his knees where he quickly shouldered the rifle.

********

Chet sat up stairs in the Faro room playing a game, he had specifically chosen a table in the corner of the room near a window and to the right side of the door. He’d seen his brother, the Marshal the moment he stepped through the door way, but because he sat in the corner his brother could not see him until he cleared the door frame.

His brother came into his clear line of view an he drew prepared to cut the deputized man down, but Breyer unsuspectedly rolled back towards the door frame in the blink of an eye. Chet raised to his feet, his chair toppling over backwards. The other men sitting at the gaming table dove for the floor and others scattered to the walls of the room eager to get out of the gun fighters way. Chet’s guns molded into his hands with a professional and custom style. He fired a couple rounds at his brother, splintering the door frame an grazing Breyer’s left shoulder.

“Breyer!” Chet hissed through gritted teeth as he moved closer to a near by window.

“Ah!” Breyer shouted in pain as the bullet grazed his shoulder and rocked him back a little.

Chet gazed around, all eyes were on him, he had a clear an open shot to destroy his kin an get the law off his back for good. But too many eyes were watching him, there would be too many witnesses, if he killed the Marshal right then and there everyone would know that it was him.

He glanced to his right turning his head to clearly see, the window set only a few feet away to his right an he thought fast. The window was not a drop off, a small lower level roof hung over the front of saloon to protect the entrance way from heavy weather. Chet fired two more shots at his brother, kicking splinters and dust up from the floor boards as his brother retreated back into the hallway.

Chet holstered his guns and tightened his hat with one hand, then suddenly made a mad dash through the window. The glass shattered all around him as he rolled a couple feet down the roof an onto his feet at the edge. He looked back over his shoulder, then back down into the street ten feet below an gave a short whistle.

In the shade of the building Blue perked his ears and backed up away from the buildings brick side an came galloping out front. As the horse galloped by Chet jumped from the roof down to his horse grabbing the horn of the saddle and hanging on the left side of the galloping mustang. He dropped his legs down to the ground and kicked up swinging his right leg over the saddle and riding away at a high gallop, his dust lingering in the streets.

********

Breyer raced down the stairs from the second floor of the saloon and out of the building an onto the board walk, his rifle still in hand. He had hunted his brother for nearly a month, and his hard work wasn’t about to just slip through his fingers in the blink of his eye. He grabbed his spotted horse’s reins from the rail and roughly swung up into the saddle kneeing his horse into a hard gallop down the street in the same direction that his outlaw brother had gone.

He kicked his heals into his horses side, his rifle gripped tightly in his right hand bobbed up and down with the steadiness of the horses gallop. The dust still lingered from freshly on Chet’s trail, Breyer edged his tired horse on harder eager to catch up to his brother an arrest him or kill him if he must.

The two men galloped deep into the G.A. forest, cutting there own trail into the wilderness that quickly became thicker and thicker. Breyer halted suddenly reining his horse in hard as he came to a shallow creek bed, his brother not far ahead of him. But this all seemed strangely familiar, and suddenly it clicked in his mind, his brother was playing an old trick on him. One that he had played long ago when they were younger, back when they felt like the world would part at there finger tips and back when life was fun and games.

Breyer turned his horse in a western direction, Chet would circle around from East to West a few times then change direction and circle again North to South. He rode up a small hill that towered over the lower floor of the woods, an he stopped his horse at the very peek where trees grew at an angel on the side of the hill. An although the forest was dense and thick he seemed to have a clear view down into the woods lower floor where he knew his brother would soon circle back and pass through.

He dismounted from his horse and stood by the spotted animal checking the ammunition and sights on his gun. The leaves under his feet crackled and crunched with his every step and he scuffed his boot on the ground until the dirt showed through and he stood next to his horses back the animal standing loyally.

The heavy sound of a horses hooves crunching over the dried leaves on the forest floor came faintly to Breyers ears and he raised his arms an the rifle steadily resting them on the horses back.

********

Chet circled around an returned to the path that he had ridden into the forest on, his mustang picked its way through the dense, mossy flooring at a steady lope.

“Easy hoss…..easy….” Chet whispered in the horse’s ears his eyes surveying the area all around him as he slowed the horse to a walk.

He pulled Blue to a stop to rest for a few moments as he built a smoke wondering if his brother was still on his trail an he grinned to himself, his famous side ways grin. Chet lit his cigarette an shook out the match an drew his right hand .45 an pulled back the hammer firing a shot into the sky.

From up on the hill looking down into the floor of the forest a horse’s shrill call came echoing through out the woods. Chet’s stallion replied to the other horse and reared for the sky calling out to the other horse and becoming nervous.

Chet reined the horse in, the call from the other horse had come from the West where the dense woods descended into a hill. His eyes went wide as he realized where his brother was positioned, again Blue reared to the sky.

And suddenly a shot rang out and Breyer’s horse call came nervously and blood exploded from Chet’s right thigh just as Blue had gone sky ward. He gouged his spurs into the horse’s sides as the animals feet touched down. The mustang leapt forward into a high gallop as another bullet rang through the woods, zinging past his head an only missing him by near inches.

Chet turned his horse North an edged him on gritting his teeth as the pain in his lower thigh crept up into his body. Suddenly, only seconds after Chet had hurried Blue into a gallop a bullet caught him in the back entering just below his left shoulder blade and exiting out the front side of his body barely missing his arm. And yet another bullet caught him, this one lodging itself low in his right side just above his right gun belt. The impact of the bullet jolting him from the saddle and throwing him to the hard, leave covered forest floor.

His horse reared for the sky again only seconds after Chet had been unsaddled and then stood nervously by its fallen rider.

Chet hit the ground like he had hit rock hard cement and laid there unmoving for a few moments, slowly but surely coming back to his senses from his fall. The wounds in his body lay numb but steadily flowing with blood and weakening his body. He moved slowly, his head feeling dizzy for a few moments and then becoming more clear as he reached out and retrieved his black hat.

Chet placed his hat on his head and stiffly pushed himself to his hands and knees, the ach of his wounds slowly catching up with his stiffening movement, a little slower he raised unsteadily to his feet. And he stumbled to his horses side, his right leg screaming in shouts of pain as his other wounds remained numb for the time being.

Slowly and painfully he swung his left leg up into the stirrup an pulled himself into the saddle, Blues nostrils flared an he took a great intake of breath smelling the blood the horse became nervous and pranced around. The wound in Chet’s right side just above his gun belt screamed and blood ran down his side onto his chaps, he pressed his hand over his side an took up the reins in his other hand. The pain caused him to hunch forward in the saddle and hug his legs around Blue’s sides, the mustang galloped deep into the woods, further and further away.

Chet rode towards Atlanta as fast as the stallion could run, an away from his brother who had begun once again to pursue him.

********

Breyer had watched as his twin brother had been knocked out of his saddle by his rifles bullets, but Breyer cussed himself, he had planned on ending his brother’s life with a single bullet. An now he was ridding away mortally wounded, his body to be lost among the thick and dense GA forests.

The evening darkness was beginning to swallow the land as Breyer road down the hill that he had fired the shots from. He shook his head in bewilderment, his brothers horse would be impossible to track in the dark, an by morning the trail would be completely lost to the eroding night winds.