Some say justice is blind. Some say that in Dry Gulch justice depends on how fast you can draw your shooting iron. This heres the story of Sarah Petersen and an eastern fellow who couldnt hit the side of a barn with a rock at ten paces on a clear day.
<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />
Thomas Maxwell the third got off of the stage when he should of kept on a travelin west. Fancy duds, derby hat and specs so thick I here tell that he was almost blind. Thats when I first met him, when he wandered off the stage and into Miss Sarahs place. Near as I can reckon thats when he ran into Toby Keller, that first day. It aint usual for Miss Sarah to take a shine to no stranger, specially one as dutied up as ole Maxwell. But she did and Toby didnt take kindly to no fancy eastern fellow talkin to his gal. Been in Dry Gulch for nigh under twenty years and Toby versus Maxwell was the shortest fight on record. Maxwell was lucky I was there, Im the town Doc and double as the undertaker, sort of an either or sort of job.
Cant rightly recall who helped but we got poor Maxwell to my office over the general store. I patched him up real fine and he paid me with silver. Been some days since Id seen me real silver. Maxwell seemed to be glad to be rid of it, stared at it all odd and stuff. Like it was some kinda poison. Then Maxwell got rightly strange, kept askinbout the time, almost like he was fraid of the dark. I gave him a shot of red eye and told him that Id put him up in the livery stable for the night. Id figured that by now Toby would be mean drunk and lookin to finish what he started at Miss Sarahs.
Townfolks was all expectin ol Maxwell to hightail it out of Dry Gulch on the next coach. The sight of him walkin into Miss Sarahs coulda just about staggered a billygoat. Toby took to hollerin and drew his colt but Miss Sarah stepped between them and said: Why dont you boys settle this someplace else.
Toby said something about high noon but Maxwell sorta laughed and looked at him kinda crooked. I figured it was some kinda eastern thing. Then Maxwell turned and told Toby hed meet him at <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />midnight. I reckon everyone was thinkin the same. Maxwell would be long gone by nightfall.
I wandered into Miss Sarahs and found Toby drunker than an ole hoot owl. The last thing I recall is askin him if he found Maxwell yet.
Dont know where to look, Toby said with a slur as he staggered to his feet.
Try the livery stable. A voice called out. Toby shot me a mean glance and stumbled outside. Id buried enough of his friends to know better than to try to talk sense into the fool. I felt sorry for the fellow, but Maxwell was a dead man.
Spent me some time in towns bigger than Dry Gulch, Tombstone, Cheyenne, Oklahoma city but I never heard me a scream like I heard that night. I think five or six shots followed and then another scream. Miss Sarah took down the scattergun and me and a few of the boys stepped outside. Something had spooked the horses and they were stampeding down the road. I hadnt walked three feet after the horses passed when a young Indian boy came racing down the street and crashed into me.
Athen, I said, whats wrong. I grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. Tears were streaming down his face and his eyes were wild with fear.
Backala`ra, he repeated over and over as he pointed to the stable.
Backala`ra? I asked while I turned toward Miss Sarah.
Its an old Indian legend about a man who can transform into some kind of beast, Sarah explained. Come on, well have to wait for daybreak to track the horses.
Some say justice is blind but I say Toby Keller got exactly what he deserved. I buried him the next day or more rightly what was left of him. Thomas Maxwell the third was never heard from again but local gossip says Miss Sarah has a secret admirer she lets stay in the Old Mills place down by Darby creek. They say she never goes there on nights with a full moon.
