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Page 8
"Now, sit up straight, Julius. Wherever did you get this suit? It's way too small and look at all the lint. I told you that you needed a fresh suit. You never seem to listen," she harangued the financier.
"Don't see why I'd has to be here," he groused. "Never done me no good. Just costed the bank that there reward he wheedled out of me." Those two never made a truer match than had ever been.
All the friends the joyous couple made in the last couple of days were present and most of the rest of the town. Any excuse for having a party, you know!
The appointed hour was upon them and Clint nervously waited at the rail with Bruce standing next to him in support. Reverend Moore motioned to the woman at the organ to begin.
The organist, Mrs. Moore (a dainty wisp of a girl of no more than twenty years), pumped her feet on the bellows of the reed organ with gusto as she played the Wedding March. Aggie appeared from the nave, smiling and carrying a small bouquet of daisies. She proceeded to the rail and moved over into place as the Maid of Honor.
All eyes were on the alcove and a murmur raced through the throng as Smitty Akin stepped out, clean and dressed in a freshly pressed suit and tie. The most beautiful bride in the Universe was on his arm. That was the groom’s opinion as he stood gazing at her. Clint's heart soared when he saw that vision of loveliness. Any doubt that he might have had vanished in a haze. Her beauty blinded him as the sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting multicolored rays about the chamber.
Off-key music from the old organ died down as the bride reached the front of the small chapel. A happy pair knelt on the pad especially provided for that purpose. Moore was in full evangelical mode as he preached to the largest congregation he'd witnessed since his ordination. The sin of Pride was upon him, and he finally recognized the demon. His mind pushed those thoughts out, and he turned to the expectant couple. He began the traditional litany,
"Dearly beloved, we gather here today before God, angels, and these witnesses, to join this man and this woman in the bonds of Holy matrimony. If there be anyone here with just cause to object, let him speak now or forever hold his peace."
The witnesses might have heard a pin drop, if someone had a pin that is. No one moved, and the Reverend continued.
"Do you, Clint, take this woman Jane for your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love, honor, and cherish her for all the days of your life, as long as you both shall live?"
"I do!"
"Do you, Jane, take this man Clint for your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to honor, love, and obey him all the days of your life, for as long as you both shall live?"
"Gladly, and I do."
"It is customary to exchange a token of this bond you pledged here today. What token do you bring?"
Reverend Moore had asked for the ring. Clint looked around, a panic-stricken look on his face. He had forgotten to purchase the requisite ring. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. Then he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. Turning he saw Smitty standing there. Clint's friend held his hand out and placed a gold band in Clint's hand.
"It was Bertha's. She would want this," He sat down again.
Reverend Moore continued the litany. He had them repeat their vows as he directed.
"With this ring, I thee wed. For better or worse, in sickness and in health, to honor and cherish from this day forward, til death do us part," Clint pledged as he placed the ring on her left fourth finger.
Janie turned slightly and extended her hand. Aggie handed something to her. She turned back to Clint. "With this ring, I thee wed. For better or worse, in sickness and in health, to honor, cherish and OBEY from this day forward, until death make us part," she slipped the ring on a surprised Clint's finger. She had subjugated herself to him for life in that change of the phrase.
Reverend Moore concluded with "By the authority vested in me by God, the state, and the church, I now pronounce y'all man and wife. What God has brought together, let no man put asunder. You may kiss your bride."
Since the kiss was invented there have been only five deemed the most passionate, the most pure. This one beat them all. This kiss, while chaste because it was in public, held much promise for the pair. Those in the church suddenly burst into applause and the organ swelled with the strains of the recessional. The happy couple moved to traverse the aisle to the back. Grains of rice thrown over the ecstatic pair by the congregants was more of an irritant than anything else.
The church's ladies organization seated near the back of the sanctuary had left slightly before the recessional started. They had stationed themselves outside under the shade of the big oak trees that dotted the churchyard. They had set up tables before the service and food was now being set out from baskets hidden in the back of the chapel. The good women of the ladies' auxiliary were bringing them out.
A smorgasbord of culinary treats greeted the participants. They had smoked hams, bacon, some batter fried chicken, bacon, venison roasts, more bacon, beef roasts and ribs, potatoes, yams, beans, corn, greens, and pies. There were all the pies, too. Apple and cherry and peach and pumpkin and squash and rhubarb pies.
A table filled with wrapped and unwrapped presents was at the end of the food line and off to the side a little. Many homemade items like quilts, towels, washcloths, and household implements, both new and lovingly used were there. There even was a new bed that Mr. Johansen, the furniture and cabinet maker had made for Ollie Olafssen, but never got around to deliver before the Olafssens went back to Denmark. Ollie had been a large man and the bed would work well for Janie and Clint.
"I have a little something for you," Smitty said with a grin after kissing Janie on the cheek. "Right over here a little."
Tied to a picket a short distance away from the corner of the chapel stood the white mare with her little white filly at her side. After a long labor, the triumphant mare gave birth earlier today. Smitty kept the delivery a secret as a surprise for the married couple.
“Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed. “It this for real? Are they really mine?”
The ecstatic bride rushed over to where they stood and knelt to pet the little foal. She beamed with pride at the new addition to their stock. The little filly proved a hit with the children. They all wanted to pet her. Janie cautioned them not to spook the momma and to be gentle.
The whole town showed their appreciation for the couple and what they did for the town. Janet had let the cat out of the bag to the women's group and that got the ball rolling that created this big shindig for the newly married couple. The party was in full swing as dusk descended on the happy throng.
Two riders, strangers, rode into town and up the street towards the party, which spilled over into the street. Sheriff Roberts found himself nearest to the pair, and he approached them. The men drew their weapons without warning, and one fired, hitting Smiley in the left leg. He dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Mrs. Roberts rushed to him and in the next moment headed for the man who dismounted from his steed. Her ineffective fists beat on the man's chest, but he knocked her down next to her wounded husband.
"Howdy Folks," he announced. "Name's Bart McCluskey. This here is my brother, Brett. We did heard y'all got yurself a reaper protectin' yur town. Now I am certain that it can't be that sorry excuse I plugged, so wherever he is, he best show hisself afore I take exception and have to shoot someone else."
He punctuated his statement by cocking his gun. Janie pulled back on Clint's arm as he took a step forward. He looked into her eyes and smiled. He kissed her and pulled his vest open a little with a surreptitious move. She saw the reassuring pearl grip of his Colt in the shoulder holster.
"Be careful. I love you," she whispered.
Clint stepped away from the crowd, and off to the left of McCluskey.
"Say, Mister, don't you realize that I got married here a little while ago? Why not put the guns away and join in the festivities? No harm done here." Clint called out.
McCluskey swiveled to the left to line u
p with Clint.
"Well, looky here. We got ourselves a dude," McCluskey sneered.
"This is my wedding day and you've ruined our reception. So in order for you to stay alive, you best mount up, turn that nag you call a horse around, and run back to the hell you came from," Clint spat the words out, but he half raised his hands so that McCluskey would think he didn't have a weapon.
McCluskey did not believe Clint’s moxie. "Few men have ever addressed me like that, Stranger. None of them are alive to tell the tale. Now I will kill you where you stand, Fella. Next, I'm gonna take your pretty new bride and I'll let the little whore go in about a month or two, since that's all she'll be good fer when I'm done."
Clint responded "I guess that takes us back to the original premise, doesn't it? I can tell by your actions that you don't cotton to fair fights. You out and out shot our Sheriff. So how are we going to do this? You going to give me a chance or up and shoot me like you did Smiley?"
"This ought to be fun," he said. "I will give you a chance. Toss him your gun Brett, so I can gun him down all legal like. We don't want the US Marshals after us, do we? We can get around to killin' that Reaper feller once we finish him."
Brett threw the gun down on the ground, landing at Clint's feet. Clint stood still as a rock with his arms now raised high above his head. The crowd backed away from the action.
"You best pick the weapon up, cause I'm counting to three and I'm blasting your hide to kingdom come when I get there," he warned as he holstered his gun in preparation for the pending gunfight.
"You remember the Reaper who you referred to a few minutes ago?" Clint asked. "Are you certain that you want to meet him? We can arrange that if you're a mind to."
"You tryin' to tell me somethin', Dude? Are you saying that you're the Reaper?" McCluskey let out a big laugh at the idea. "You sayin' that I should be skard of a dandy like you?"
"Oh no, Sir," Clint said in his most put-upon tone. "I'm not the Reaper… She is!"
He pointed down the road towards the hotel. There appeared a woman with a rifle standing in the street. McCluskey noticed the woman. Then he pulled his gun. The pistol moved enough that the cylinder appeared at the top of the holster before Janie's shot rang out. A second and third followed suit as she levered multiple rounds into the chamber of the Winchester 73.
McCluskey jerked like a puppet on a string as each slug tore gaping holes through his worthless body. He stood without moving, dead on his feet when a different shot pierced the air. The other McCluskey brother, still seated on the mare, might have felt his brain explode, spraying blood and gore all over the landscape at the moment of his death. The McCluskey brothers would provoke no more trouble in this world, but there would be the Devil to pay for their actions soon enough.
Bruce walked back into the light of the lanterns hanging out for the celebration. He removed the spent round while reloading his gun and he holstered the weapon as he walked up to Clint.
"Man, that t'were quick shootin' yur Missus done did, Boss. I ain't never seen the likes. But sorry about the mess with t'other one. I pulled my shot."
"Pulled your shot?" Clint exclaimed, "You blew his freakin' head off!"
Clint gave Bruce a hearty pounding of congratulations on his back.
"Yeah, Boss, I did, except I done aimed fer his chest!"
Both men broke down laughing. The townspeople shook off the shock and gathered around to congratulate the two friends as Janie joined the group. Doc Anderson had joined the celebration earlier, and already finished bandaging Sheriff Roberts' leg. It turned out to be a bad week for the Sheriff.
"Let's get back to the party!" Clint exclaimed.
Janie handed the rifle over to her husband of a few hours. She also took his hand and pushed her hideout 32 in it.
"The darn thing causes unsightly bulges in my bodice. You hold the thing for me. Come dance with me, Husband," she exclaimed as she pulled him toward the music. Heaven forbid that we should see extra bulges in her bodice. Clint's opinion of her bulges remained his secret.
Earlier Janie had hidden her gun with Aggie, who put the small gun in her handbag while the ceremony progressed. She didn't remember the little peacemaker until McCluskey threw his weight around. Aggie disappeared, and Janie couldn't find her to get the revolver back. She ran over to the hotel and pulled the Winchester from Clint's saddle scabbard. He had hitched his horse to the post in front of the hotel earlier in the afternoon and hadn’t made his way to the stables yet.
Mrs. McCluskey's boys ceased to exist. Even now, Mr. Shriver appeared to collect the bodies. Clint knew he needed to go by the undertaker’s place to collect his new property and the reward chit. Time for another fit from Banker Barnes!
The stable boy, Timmy Johnson gathered the horses up, and Mr. Akin told him to put those two in the front corral. They'd sort through it tomorrow. Clint asked him to take his horse down for the night too. The boy trotted down the street toward the stable, horses in tow. He didn't want to miss out on any of the excitement.
Timmy didn't know that the excitement for the crowd was over for the evening. They couldn’t say the same for the happy couple. Clint and Janie slipped away after a while and consummated their marriage in the big bed in their suite at the hotel. There were no interruptions since the townspeople canceled the shivaree due to excessive blood in the street.
Bruce brought breakfast up to the Honeymoon Suite in the morning: eggs, bacon, grits, sausage, toasted bread, biscuits and gravy, butter and strawberry preserves for two. Janie asked for a replay on the evening's activities from Clint first. The two lovers later remembered to eat the food. Clint had a thought while spending quality time with his bride. He excused himself, saying that he needed to run several errands. Janie was a little sore and welcomed the respite. Clint kissed her with as much passion as he could muster, and then got dressed and left the room, putting the breakfast tray on the table in the hall.
Clint went to collect the McCluskeys’ belongings that were being held by the undertaker. Mr. Shriver pointed to the pile near the door and handed Clint the chit for the reward. Clint's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"One thousand dollars?" Clint exclaimed. "Whaa... How…" He seemed to be at a loss for words. It turned out McCluskey’s body wasn’t as worthless as Clint thought.
"Rewards in four states on both men." Mr. Shriver told Clint. "Six hundred for Bart, and four hundred for Brett. It seems like you are making a mighty fine living clearing up the scum round these parts. Haint been bad fer my business neither, now that I think 'bout it."
"Thanks for remembering about the rewards. I'll make sure that I bring any other bodies this way," Clint offered. "We should do well for each other."
Smitty suggested he keep the black and sell the gray when he checked at the stable.
"I'll give you eight dollars for the gray. Neither horse nor saddle is in good shape. Now if you wanna sell that other, I'll give ye thirty-two for the pair."
"I'll sell you the gray and keep that black gelding. His tack looks top rate, and I'd bet the horseflesh is of the same caliber. I'll just get the saddlebags from the gray and you can put my new gelding with the rest of my stock. I'd say that I need to find me a better solution for my livestock."
"You can keep 'em here as long as you want," Smitty responded, "I don't mind."
Clint grinned. "Yeah, and I'll be broke in no time with what you charge."
Smitty sputtered at that but then noticed that Clint was laughing behind his hand. Smitty realized that he was being joshed and took it with a good-natured laugh. Clint paid the stable fee for his new horse and Smitty put the gelding with the others. Clint then was off to see about the reason for leaving the hotel room.
The search was on.
Clint's first stop was the mercantile once more. He stood over in the corner by chance, away from the exit, but also across the store from the clerk. He was looking at a clothing rack with shirts when a pair of men entered. Clint looked at them and instantly
got an uneasy feeling in the pit of his gut. He made his way around the shelving, keeping a wary eye on the two. They had stepped up to the sales counter and started a disturbance. Clint decided it was time to interfere.
He stopped a young boy from entering the store.
"Hey, Tommy, over here," he whispered with his finger to his lips, making the universal shushing signal. "Go run for the Sheriff. There will be trouble here soon. Be quick and there'll be two bits for you when you get back."
The lad took off at a gallop. The men at the counter were ignorant of that action. Clint moved to position himself so that he'd have a good line of sight for each gunman without endangering Mr. Jorgensen, who was behind the counter.
The bigger one was dressed like a Mexican Vaquero, including black vest, red tie, and large colorful sombrero. He was tall and lean, and exhibited a long purple scar across the left side of his face, extending from above his ear to his jaw. The other guy was medium height and build, and was wearing an ornate double gun rig. The guns were pearl handled and looked new. They were a contrast to his clothing which were shabby. Clint doubted that he was the original owner of such fine equipment.