Chapter 45
“Your name Le Monte?” a man asked Chris seated at a table in the hotel dinning room in Odessa Texas having his morning meal.
“That’s right Christopher Le Monte,” he replied.
“I hear you’re a pretty good gunman,” said the elderly man.
“Gunfighter . . . not gunman,” Chris pointed out.
“Whatever,” said the man “I want someone to get rid of a mean nasty owl hoot by the name of Wilber McKing.”
“You want me to shoot him?”
“Shoot him, drown him, throw him off a cliff, but get rid of the no good skunk.”
“What makes you think I’ll do it?”
“$500 says you will.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep,” said the fellow as he handed Chris a stack of silver dollars. “Here’s $50 on account. You’ll find the no good varmint out at his place just west of town about ten miles.”
“You want me to ride out there and do the fellow in . . . just like that?”
“Yep,” he replied “and I want to watch you do it.”
“You want to watch me do it?”
“Yep . . . he’s been asking for it for a long time now.”
“You want to show me where he lives?”
“Yep . . . that’s so I can watch you do it.”
“I’ll get my horse and we’ll ride out that way then.”
“That’s his place,” said the elderly man as they rode up to the gate which stood wide open. They reined their horses through the gate and continued on toward the house. Chris rode right up to the house and they stepped down from the horses.
“McKing,” Chris yelled real loud. A few moments later another elderly man came to the door of the house. He was holding an old single shot rifle in his hands. The weapon was the kind that had been used during the Civil War between the States. It was a muzzle loading kind that used a very large ‘Mini Ball’ type of bullet and black powder.
“You better say your prayers,” shouted the first man.
“You get off my land,” shouted McKing.
“Not until this feller shoots you full of holes.”
“What is it between you two,” asked Chris.
“That skunk fought for the Confederate Army,” yelled the first man.
“That was my choice to make and I chose it,” said McKing.
“So . . . he fought for the south,” said Chris.
“He was suppose to fight for the Union, but oh no, he ran out on me and I had to serve in the Union Army.”
“Wait a minute,” yelled Chris “what has that got to do with anything.”
“You dumb . . . or just plain stupid,” barked the first man.
“Explain this to me, will you?”
“My name is Wilber McKing and I was living in Pennsylvania when the war broke out. I was called to serve in the Union Army. If I could find someone who’d take my place then I wouldn’t have to serve. This rat said he would go in my place and I gave him $50 to take my place . . . only he doubled crossed me and went and joined the Rebs.”
“You’re name is Wilber McKing . . . and yours is . . .” Chris pointed to the first man then to the other one.
“My name is Wilber McKing too,” said the second man.
“You’re both named Wilber McKing.”
“That’s right . . . we’re cousins” said the second McKing.
“And that is what all this is about?”
“That’s it,” said the first McKing. “So I want this traitor shot full of holes.”
“You and whose army is going to do that,” yelled the second man as he rushed forward to face his cousin.
Chris quickly took the rifle from the hands of the second man and stepped back as the two began to yell in each others face. Chris inspected the weapon and saw a cap on the nipple, so he cocked the rifle and pulled the trigger with the barrel pointed skywards. The loud report of the weapon being fired sent them both ducking for cover. A thick blue-black cloud of smoke drifted slowly away.
“You promised to pay me $500 to shoot him . . . you gave me $50 so where is the rest of it?” Chris asked. He tossed the old gun aside.
The first elderly man pulled out his purse from his jeans and took out some gold coins. He counted out several $50 coins and handed them to Chris. “Now you going to shoot him full of holes?”
“Just a minute,” said Chris as he turned to the second man “Now, you saw him pay me to shoot you.”
“You dang right I did and I’ll swear to it in a front of a judge, too.”
“Will you pay me $500 to keep me from shooting you and shoot him?”
“You dang right I will,” the second man pulled out his purse and counted out some gold coins. He handed the stack to Chris. “Now it’s your turn to get shot full of lead.”
“There’s one thing you both have over looked.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” They both asked.
“I now have a contract from each of you to shoot the other . . . as I see it if I shoot you both . . . neither of you win . . . on the other hand if I keep half the money you both gave me and give each of you back half then the next one who causes trouble for the other one is the one I’ll ride back here and shoot . . . is that agreed.”
They both stood looking at each other for a few minutes than they both said “agreed.”
“Good . . . here’s your money,” he handed them each $250 then mounted his horse. “Remember the first one who causes trouble for the other is the one I’m going to shoot full of holes.”
They both stood in the yard as Chris rode away at a slow gallop.
“You think he means it?” asked one of them.
“I reckon he does fer shore?” said the other.
“It look’s like the feud is over then.”
“Yep, shore nuff.”
“What’d he say as he rode away?”
“So long.”