Friends and Enemies

Sam put his binoculars back into his saddlebags, checked that his pistol was appropriately sitting in its holster and then both he and Kushala resumed their journey. It only took a few minutes for Sam and Kushala to meet the strangers on the trail. The two men were slightly older than Sam. Although they were currently sitting on their horses, Sam could tell that one was tall and slim and the other was shorter and stockier. When both the strangers and Sam and Kushala had pulled their mounts to a halt, the stockier stranger, who appeared to be in charge, said;

“Howdy folks. It’s a fine morning, isn’t it?”

“Sure is” replied Sam in as friendly and cheerful tone of voice as he could muster.

“My name’s Colt Granger, this here’s my buddy Deke Parsons” said the stocky stranger, indicating his travelling companion who nodded in Sam’s direction.

“My name’s Sam Walker and this is my wife Kushala” Sam returned the introductions. Kushala, to her credit, did not show one iota of surprise on her face at Sam calling her his wife.

“Your wife!!!” exclaimed Colt in astonishment looking at Sam’s companion and no doubt finding it hard to believe that a white man would marry an Indian.

“That’s right” said Sam in a “what’s so strange about that” tone of voice.

“His wife” said Colt looking at his travelling companion Deke.

At the same time as looking Kushala up and down, Colt, who seemed to be the more confident and dominant of the two strangers, asked Sam;

“Where are you folks off to?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Sam replied;

“We’re going to visit Kushala’s family. They live in an Apache village about 20 miles from here”.

“You’re going to ride into an Apache village?” asked Deke, speaking for the first time.

“That’s right” said Sam and then he added with a little smile “It’s safe enough when you’re married to an Apache woman”.

Sam, looking at Colt then asked;

“Where are you fellows off to?”

“We’re just drifting East more or less, looking for work, you know, cattle drives, ranching and we even break in wild horses” said Colt.

“I can maybe help you fellas” said Sam. “About 10 miles north-east of here” Sam pointed to the horizon showing the direction he was referring to “there is a ranch belonging to a friend of mine. John Barton his name is. He’s always looking for workers. I’ve done a fair bit of work for him over the years myself. If you go there, just mention my name and I’m sure he’ll fix you up with some work”.

“That’s mighty hospitable of you Sam, Deke and I will probably do that” Colt replied. “There is one thing that we would like to do first however”.

“What’s that” Sam asked now becoming a little concerned.

“Deke and I have been travelling for eight days now” Colt replied, looking at his friend for confirmation of how long they had been on the trail. Deke nodded to say that Colt was right.

Colt then continued looking at Kushala; “Eight days is a long time to travel without the companionship of a beautiful woman. It doesn’t really matter to us if she is white or Injun”.

Sam was now on high alert. He knew what Colt was getting at. As a last attempt to break the tension, Sam said;

“In that case, about 6 miles beyond John Barton’s ranch is the town of Buxton. Men can find everything they need there, gambling, drinking and even women”.

Colt shook his head and then said;

“That’s another sixteen miles of travelling. Why wait all that time when there is a perfectly good woman right here?”

Deke let out a little laugh at his friend’s comment. As far as Sam was concerned he now knew that the situation was only going to end one way, in death. Who would die and who would live (if anybody) he had no idea.

For as long as Sam could remember, he had always had very quick reflexes. It was a trait that he was obviously born with. After Sam began hunting and doing occasional work for the army at Fort Valiant, he began to practice drawing his pistol from his holster as quickly and as accurately as he could. He never knew who or what he would meet whilst out in the wilderness. The practice had paid off over the years. The natural trait of having quick reflexes and the practice at perfecting the draw of his pistol from his holster meant that Sam was lightning quick on the draw. Sam had only ever been in one gunfight in his life. He had intervened when he came across a man in Buxton beating up a woman. The man had taken exception to Sam’s actions and a gunfight had ensued. The man had barely been able to draw his gun from his holster before he fell dead in the middle of the street.

Sam hated killing. He had only ever killed two people in his life up close, the man in the gunfight and the Indian who had attacked him on his way home which resulted in him in meeting Kushala. He had killed a few Indians who had attacked wagon trains that he was escorting but Sam knew that if he wanted to save both Kushala’s life and his own, he would need to kill two more people now.

“That’s my wife you’re talking about” Sam said to Colt.

“And very pretty she is too” said Colt with a sneer.

“Yes she is” agreed Deke, leering at Sam’s Apache friend as he spoke.

“Gentlemen” began Sam and then continued “Let me give you a bit of advice. I believe that it would be better for everyone if you just headed for the Barton ranch and allowed my wife and I to continue on our journey”.

“I don’t think so” said Colt. He then added with the sneer still on his face “not before your wife and I have a little fun first, besides, and with all due respect to your wife, there are two of us and only one of you”.

“Look gentlemen” said Sam, his voice full of confidence “I don’t have time to wait around here whilst you go and get another five or six men to even up the odds, I’ve got somewhere to go. So why don’t you just get on your way?”

“Cocky son of a bitch aren’t you?” said Colt.

Sam very quickly looked at Kushala who was looking back at him, fear written all over her face. When Sam looked back at Colt he was still sneering but when Sam stared unwavering into his eyes, the sneer quickly slipped away to be replaced with a look of uncertainty.

“Nobody needs to die here today” Sam said in a very steady voice.

No reply came from either Colt or Deke. Sam’s hand was down near the grip of his Colt 45 pistol. Colt licked his lips. Sam saw this in his peripheral vision because he never took his eyes off of Colt’s eyes. The first movement anyone ever made in a gunfight was their eyes and spotting this movement was key to know when they were going to go for their gun