Devil Rising: The Heart of a Gunman. R. B. Conroy

      Piano music drifted out the window of the Barbee as Jon and Babe rode slowly into town. It was almost dark now. Camp, shoeing a horse by the light of a kerosene lamp, rose up when he saw Jon coming. A dejected Zing Fuller looked over and gave the young stable hand an ugly stare as he rode past on the lead horse. The dead gunman’s arms dangled to the side of the following pack.

      “You okay?” Camp shouted.

      “I’m fine Camp, see you at the Barbee tomorrow at the usual time,” Jon shouted.

      Camp stuck his black thumb in the air and quickly went back to work. He had a stable full of horses that needed shoeing by morning.

      “Sheriff’s back, one dead and one alive!” a young boy playing in the street shouted.

      A few folks gathered along the side of the road to greet their returning hero. Jon sat tall in the saddle as he tipped his hat to the crowd. He rode slowly toward the jail, keeping a close eye on Fuller.

      “Whoa girl!” “Whoa!” Babe’s head jerked back as they stopped in front of the jail. Deputy Morgan came running out to meet him.

      “Any chance?” Ed asked, shocked by the sight of the young man’s body.

      “Not a chance,” Jon replied. “How’s Malone doing?”

      “Not so great, but Doc Fletcher seems to think he’ll make it okay. Lost a lot of blood, but he’s a pretty tough hombre.”

      “Might have to get someone to fill in for Jack while he’s mending,” Jon replied.

      “Okay Jon, looks like we’re gonna need all the help we can get round here.”

      “Make sure this poor fool gets a proper burial. He’s only a kid, it’s a shame.” Jon sounded distressed as he spoke of his most recent kill.

      “Sure thing Boss, you better clean up a little and get down to the Barbee. Libby’s been coming down here every twenty minutes to check on you. I’ll send one of the boys o’er to the Barbee to tell her you’re okay.”

      “Thanks Ed.” Jon smiled at his loyal deputy. He tied Babe to the hitching post and hurried down to the Westwood Hotel to spiff up a little.

      The floor boards creaked as Jon walked to his room at the end of the hall on the second floor. He turned the key, and the door fell open. Jon stepped in the room and quickly closed and locked the door behind him. Steam rose from a pan of hot water sitting next to the bed. They’re spoiling me, he thought, as he tossed his hat on the bed and slid his hands into the water. He splashed his sweaty face, it felt great. He grabbed the cotton towel off the brass bed rail and patted his face dry. His black leather vest and denim shirt came off. He slipped on his white silk shirt and brocade vest, slapped on some cologne and took a quick look in the mirror. “You handsome devil,” he mumbled as he grabbed his hat off the bed and hurried down to see his girl.

      * * *

      Libby’s eyes kept glancing at the door as she waited for her big lover. She reached under the bar and pulled up a small bottle of expensive perfume and carefully dabbed it on a few key spots on her neck. She liked being Jon’s girl, even with all the uncertainty. Why do I always fall in love with the wrong men?” she thought, as she carefully placed the perfume under the bar.

      The door opened, Jon walked in slowly and stopped. He looked around the room for Libby. She smiled and waved; his face lit up with a big grin as he straightened his hat and headed for the bar.

      “How’s the prettiest girl in town?” Jon said as slid up on the bar stool.

      “Just fine! And how’s our big handsome local Sheriff?” Libby said enthusiastically. She carefully lifted a bottle of Early Times out of the rack, the amber liquor splashed into Jon’s glass.

      “I’m doing okay,” Jon replied.

      “Well I guess all my worrying was for nothing.” Libby’s pulse rate jumped as Jon’s big hand slipped around her delicate wrist.

      “I’m right sorry ‘bout that Darlin’. But I can take care of myself alright; try not to worry too much.” Jon smiled and winked at the happy saloon owner. He lifted the shot glass to eye level. “Here’s to the loveliest lady this side of the Gila River.” He downed the shot of Early Times and smiled at Libby. He paused for a moment as his eyes went to the center of the empty glass as if in deep thought.

      “Forgive me for worrying so much!” Libby said, interrupting his thought.

      “You’re forgiven, Sweetheart,” Jon said quickly.

      “Dinner?” Libby asked.

      “Thought you’d never ask!”

      “I had Sam set us up in the back room; it will be quieter there,” Libby said, as her face broke into a warm smile.

      “Sounds good!”

      Libby slid effortlessly around the end of the bar; she grabbed Jon’s hand and led him back to the separate room. The candelabra’s flames reflected off the shiny silverware as they entered their private retreat. Always the gentleman, Jon slid Libby’s chair out and waited for her to be seated. He tossed his brown felt hat on the table and sat down next to her.

      Sam arrived with two glasses and a bottle of imported wine; he carefully poured the expensive wine into the delicate glasses.

       “Ready to order or do you need some time?” Sam asked.

       “Well if Libby doesn’t mind, I’m pretty much starvin’,” Jon replied.

      “That’s fine, I’m a little hungry myself,” she replied.

      Sam reached inside his apron and pulled out the green order pad.

      “What’ll it be?” he asked.

      “Venison parmesan over pasta for me, Sam,” Libby said softly.

      “How bout a big t-bone steak with fried potatoes,” Jon said.

      “Scalloped corn’s good tonight, Jon, and you need some veggies.” Sam grinned as he lectured his good friend.

      “Okay Sam.” Jon laughed.

      Sam hurried off to the kitchen.

      Libby lifted the glass up to her lips and took a sip. “Somebody said there was gun play out there today. Is that right, Jon?’

      Jon looked down at the table, he seemed distressed. “Yea, the young fella, the one who shot Jack, was kind of trigger happy,” Jon said.

      “And.....” Libby said.

      “And...I ah had to kill him.” Jon was upset; it was the same old feeling, but now for the first time in his life he wanted to talk about it.

      “What is it, Jon? What happened?” Libby said, very concerned.

      “I.....uh.....I gave him every chance to back off, but he still went for his gun! I had no choice!” Jon’s voice trailed off as he talked of killing the young man.

      Libby looked intimately toward the powerful gunman. Her hand gently stroked his thick forearm. “Are you okay?” she asked.

      Jon’s eyes began to well up, they glistened as he spoke. “Yea, I guess I’m just.....” his voice trailed off once again.

      “You’re just what, Jon?” Libby asked. She had never seen her big, fearless lover so vulnerable before.

      Jon looked over at Libby. His face filled with pain. “I’m just tired.”

      “Tired of what, Jon? What are you talking about?” Libby’s eyes darted up and down Jon’s face, looking for any sign of the answer. He seemed genuinely upset; it wasn’t like him.

      “Tired of all the killing, tired of living with this rage inside of me!”

      “But