“Let me go!” Rebecca said, twisting away from him. Lovejoy reached for her again, but this time Dalton stepped up to him and pushed him away.
“Leave my sister alone!” he said.
“Well, now,” Lovejoy said. He smiled, but rather than displaying joy or humor, the smile merely stretched his lips and tightened the skin on his face so that it looked just like the skull, in the black “Jolly Roger” flag that pirates once flew.
“You’ve sort of moved this one up a peg or two, haven’t you, sonny? If you had just gone on and minded your own business like I told you to, nothing more would have happened. But that wasn’t good enough for you, was it? Well, I see that you are wearing a gun. How about we settle this now? Draw.”
“What?” Dalton asked. “Are you crazy? What do you mean, draw? I’m not getting into a gunfight with you.”
“You already have, and I’m goin’ to kill you for it,” Lovejoy said. “Draw.”
“If you want my friend you’re going to have to come through me!” Mo shouted.
Without another word, or even the hint that he had heard Mo, Lovejoy drew his pistol. Mo was quick, and he prided himself on his fast draw and marksmanship, but his reflexes had been greatly slowed by the whiskey, and he hadn’t expected Lovejoy to draw against him without the slightest recognition. By the time he realized Lovejoy was drawing, it was too late. To Mo it looked as if his pistol had just magically appeared in his hand. Mo managed to draw his pistol, but not fast enough. Reflexively, he pulled the trigger on his own pistol, firing a slug into the floor, even as he was falling face down.
“Mo!” Dalton and Rebecca yelled at the same time. Dalton started toward his fallen friend, but Lovejoy called out to him.
“Hold it right there, Sonny,” Lovejoy said. His pistol was back in his holster. “Your friend had his chance.”
“He wasn’t just my friend,” Dalton said with tears streaming down his face. “He was my brother.”
“Yeah? Well, then when you get to hell, you can tell him that Frank Lovejoy said hello. ’Cause now it’s your turn.”
Rebecca stepped in front of Dalton and held her arms out, facing Lovejoy.
“If you shoot him, you are going to have to shoot me first,” she said.
“Well, hell, honey. Shootin’ you ain’t goin’ to be all that hard to do. It’s not like if I don’t shoot you, you are goin’ to warm my bed. You’ve already let me know how you feel. But me and your brother have some unfinished business, so either you step out of the way, or I’ll come through you to get to him.”
Tom started toward Lovejoy, but Matt reached out toward him and pulled him back.
“No, Tom, wait,” Matt said.
“I’m not going to just stand here and watch him kill the woman I love,” Tom said with quiet anger.
Matt reached down and snatched Tom’s pistol from its holster.
“What are you doing?” Tom asked, angrily.
“Let me take care of this,” Matt said. “I expect I’ve had more experience.”
“I’m not going to tell you again, Becca. Get out of the way,” Lovejoy said.
“Lovejoy!” Matt called.
“Who the hell are you?” Lovejoy asked.
“Let’s say I’m a friend to the boy,” Matt said. “And I was a friend to the man you killed.”
“And so now, like the avenging angel, you want to take me on,” Lovejoy said. “Is that it?”
“Something like that,” Matt said.
Lovejoy didn’t call the move. Instead, just as he had done with Mo, he made a lightning draw. Only now, by the time Lovejoy’s pistol cleared the holster, Matt’s gun was already in his hand, and a little finger of flame erupted from the end of the barrel.
Matt’s bullet hit Lovejoy in the heart, giving him just enough time before he died to register his shock over having been beaten in a gunfight by a simple cowboy.
Lovejoy wasn’t the only one awestruck. Nearly everyone in the saloon had seen Lovejoy in action before. They were convinced that there was no one alive who could beat him, and yet they had just seen it done.
Before the smoke cleared, Sheriff Hamilton Bell was pushing through the front door with pistol in hand. Seeing two men lying on the floor, one of them Lovejoy, he used the barrel of his pistol to push his hat back on his head.
“What happened here?” he asked.
Everyone began to talk and shout at once.
“Hold it, hold it!” Bell said. “One at a time.” He pointed to Rebecca. “Becca, did you see this?”
“Yes,” Rebecca said in a small, choked voice.
“Tell me what happened.”
Rebecca described the events in detail, then Bell looked over at Matt and Dalton.
“What’s your name, Mister?”
“Jensen. Matt Jensen.”
“I’ll be damn. I’ve heard of you, Mr. Jensen. I reckon if there was anyone who could beat Lovejoy in a fair fight, it would be you. And I’ve never heard anything that would make me think any the worse of you, so I’m inclined to believe the young lady’s report. But just to keep things on the up and up, I’d like to hold a hearing tomorrow morning. Can I have your word that you will be there?”
“I’ll be there,” Matt promised.
During the entire conversation among the deputy, the witnesses, and the man who had actually shot Frank Lovejoy, Rebecca had been aware of Tom’s eyes on her. What did she see in those eyes? Hurt? Anger? Hate? For a moment she was confused by his reaction, then in a moment of clarity she knew exactly what it was.
Frank Lovejoy had called her a whore, and being here, in this place, dressed as she was, interacting with the customers, how could it appear any other way? Rebecca’s eyes filled with tears, and she turned her face away. How could this have happened? How? She saw Dalton standing over Mo’s body, looking down at him, and saw that, like her, he was crying. And she knew at that moment that she was responsible for Mo’s death!
Oh, God help me, the thought. How did I get myself into such a mess?
“Dalton, I’m sorry about Mo,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Mo was my best friend,” Dalton said.
“I know he was, sweetheart. And, it’s my fault that he is dead. It is all my fault.”
Rebecca was sure that Dalton was going to turn on her, and he had every right to do so. But he didn’t.
“Don’t be ridiculous, it wasn’t your fault,” Dalton said. “It just—it just happened, that’s all.”
“How did you find me? How did you know I was here?”
Dalton shook his head. “I didn’t know you were here. We came here to buy a herd of special cattle, and when we came into the saloon, here you were.”
“Yes,” Rebecca said. “Here I am.”
“Come on, sis, we’re getting out of here,” Dalton said.
“No,” Rebecca said, shaking her head.
“Rebecca, I’m not taking no for an answer,” Dalton said, showing more maturity and strength than she had ever seen him exhibit before.
“Dalton, I ...”
“Clay and Dusty are here. So is Maria. You are coming with us,” Dalton said.
Rebecca knew that Dalton was right, and she knew, too, that more than anything she wanted to leave this place, once and for all.
She looked over at Tom again, but this time he looked away.
The Dodge House
Clay and the others, having finished dinner, were now sitting in the lobby near the big fireplace, enjoying the warmth as they continued the conversations they had started in the dining room. Dusty is the one who saw her first.
“I’ll be damned,” Dusty said. Then, with a quick nod of his head to Maria and Sally, he apologized. “Excuse the language, ladies, but I never expected to see her here.”