Showdown At Silver Tip

Chapter 1

August 25, 1874.

In three days, the town of Silver Tip, Wyoming, so named in honor of the Grizzlies who had long reined supreme in that area, would be six years old. Unlike in past years, no plans had been made for a celebration to mark this particular anniversary. With the town's very existence threatened, few were in the mood to celebrate. Silver Tip, along with the land around it for a hundred miles or more, had not been blessed with even a drop of rain in the last two months.

Had the founders of the town bothered to speak with the people in the Shoshone and Cheyenne villages, they might have had second thoughts about establishing their town in this location in the first place. It seemed that both tribes had, for as long as anyone could remember, considered that section of land to be cursed.

Just a stones throw to the east of town, the previously always reliable Jennings creek, was now nothing but a meandering dry dust bowl. In the last three weeks, after being forced to watch their crops burn up from an unrelenting sun, four farming families had given up, loaded their wagons, and left in search of a better life elsewhere.

They weren't the only ones who had found it necessary to admit defeat. Two ranchers, unable to sell, or even give away, their few surviving cattle, had fired their ranch hands, then killed the few cows they had left. For ranchers, it was truly a gruesome task, but those cows were too weak to travel, and no real cowman could leave them to suffer and die from thirst. That done, much like the farmers before them, the two rancher owners packed up and left to start over elsewhere. One rancher and his family headed for Nebraska. The other, with no family to support, chose Oregon as his next destination.

The long drought that seemed to be without an end, had taken it's toll on the people in and around the town. Patience was as rare as hen's teeth, and tempers seemed to flare more often with each passing day. Just recently, while the Sheriff was out of town, two longtime friends argued, then fought viciously with fists and feet, until neither man could get off the ground without assistance. When later asked why they had fought, neither combatant could recall the reason behind their anger.

* * *

Marsha Riggs was hanging laundry in her back yard, when she noticed a solitary rider pass by, then tie his horse to the hitching post in front of the only Saloon in town, The Broken Spur. The afternoon sun was unbearably hot, yet when she recognized this dark and grim faced man, a cold shiver ran down her back.

Her husband Mel had related enough stories about Emmett Bonner, that she well understood he was both dishonest, and vicious. Marsha watched as Bonner took his own sweet time looking up and down the sun baked street, before finally entering the Saloon. When she returned to hanging clothes, Marsha promised herself that once she was back in the house, her first order of business would be to keep her husband's shotgun close at hand, until he got home.

* * *

Inside his office, Sheriff Silas Boyd, after a losing battle, had fallen victim to the mid afternoon heat. Grace Foster, the Mayor's only daughter, found Silas with his head on the desk, sound asleep. Smiling, she reached back, then slammed the door closed.

Snapped out of his nap, Silas Boyd looked around his office in momentary confusion. Catching sight of Grace, he took a deep breath, then quietly asked, What's going on?

Laughing, Grace answered, Nothing really. I just thought I should wake you, just in case Daddy might happen by. As you well know, he would love to find an excuse to fire you.

Silas nodded. I reckon you're right on that account. Grace's father was Earl Foster, Mayor of Silver Tip for the past three years. His son, Robert, had turned out to be a huge disappointment to the Mayor, who had envisioned a long and successful career in business and/or politics for his son. Unfortunately, Robert simply wanted to be left alone, to live his life with as little responsibility as possible.

For that reason, when Robert left to pursue a life of his choosing in Chicago, Earl Foster had transferred his plans for success to the ambitious and capable hands of his daughter, Grace. Unlike her brother, Grace shared her father's hunger for success and notoriety. Not that there was much of it to be had in this little dusty sun baked town, but a career had to be built from the bottom up, and in her mind, Silver Tip was as close to the bottom as she ever wanted to be.

All of the men of any importance in and around Silver Tip were already married. For sure, among them were at least a few, who would have entertained the idea of having Grace for their mistress, but she was wise enough to know that such an option would make for a poor base upon which to build her career.

As she saw it, her next best choice was Sheriff Silas Boyd. Grace found him to be good looking, in a stern unbending sort of way. He stood nearly six feet tall, slim at the waist, with shoulders that showed signs of great strength. More importantly, he held the one remaining position of importance in the town. A factor that barring a critical mistake, could go a long way towards helping to build the sort of foundation that she required in her vision for the future.

Unfortunately for Silas, Grace's father was not at all happy with his daughter's decision to establish a romantic connection with the Sheriff. As he saw it, Silas had no future above being a small town lawman, or possibly, a ranch hand. Again and again, he had tried to convince his headstrong daughter to wait for a better candidate to come along, but in this case, the apple hadn't fallen far from the tree. Earl Foster had always been an impatient sort, and his daughter was no different. Grace was determined to start her life plan now, and Silas Boyd was the man she had chosen to help her get started. Although not blind to the amount of attention Grace had been devoting to him, Silas was both somewhat mystified that he had somehow drawn the interest of such a beautiful and important woman.

* * *

With the drowsiness now cleared from his brain, Silas looked at Grace, and inquired, Anything in particular bring you down here?

Before she could answer, the door swung open, and in stepped Rhoda Douglas. She and her husband Glenn, owned the Diamond D Ranch. Stepping between Grace and Silas, she immediately grasped his wrist as she demanded his help.

Sheriff, you've got to get to The Broken Spur right now. Emmett Bonner is in there drinking. Glenn found out that Bonner has been selling off some of our cattle for his own use, and he's gone into the saloon to settle with him. Gripping his wrist even harder, she stared hard into his eyes. Silas, ten years ago, Glenn might have been able to handle Emmett, but he's not as strong or as quick as he once was. The old fool is too damn stiff necked to allow anyone else handle what he considers to be his business. You've got to get down there before he gets himself killed!

The Sheriff bolted out from behind his desk, and as he rushed out the door, called out, Grace, keep Mrs. Douglas here. No sooner had he stepped off the boardwalk to cross the street, than a gunshot rang out from the direction of the Saloon. Silas yelled a warning to the people on the street to take cover, then raced toward the Broken Spur.

Having heard no additional shots by the time he reached the doors to the Saloon, Silas stopped and listened for any sign of activity inside. It was as quiet as a graveyard. In an effort to avoid being shot by mistake, he called out, identifying both himself, and his intentions.

This is Sheriff Boyd. I'm coming in. Once inside, he found Glenn Douglas face down on the floor, with a bullet wound in his back. It only took a second to determine that Douglas was dead. After regaining his feet, the Sheriff turned to face Emmett Bonner. Did you kill him?

Bonner shrugged his shoulders. Sure. What was I supposed to do? The old fool came after me. I had to protect myself.

Then how do you explain the bullet in his back?

Damned if I know, Sheriff. Maybe I missed, and the bullet ricocheted off something and hit him in the back. What difference does it make? He tried to kill me, and I defended myself.

Ain't so, Sheriff, called out a voice from the rear of the saloon. Tim Eads, who sometimes rode shotgun guard for the stage coach, stepped forward. Douglas came huntin' Bonner to fire him and pay him off. Emmett called him a liar and said he didn't steal any cattle. Glenn Douglas was a hell of a man for many years, but I knew he was in over his head against Bonner, so I finally talked him into letting you handle this. He was headed out the door to come talk with you, when Emmett shot him in the back.

Staring into the eyes of Emmett Bonner, a part of Silas hoped that Bonner would fight, instead of surrendering. It was a sad day when the likes of Emmett Bonner could kill a giant of a man like Glenn Douglas and get away with it.

After losing his ranch, cattle, and all he owned, during his absence during the Civil War, Douglas, his wife, and two sons headed north to start over. The Diamond D ranch was born years before the first building went up in the town of Silver Tip. Glenn Douglas and his family fought off Shoshone, Pawnee, and Cheyenne warriors, as well as white rustlers, in order to protect their herd. Both of the Douglas sons were killed during those fights. First came the youngest, then two years later, the oldest boy was killed. But Douglas and his wife would not be driven out. It was their success that gave others the courage to start their own ranches and farms, and eventually, the town itself. Now, at an age when he should have been enjoying life on his front porch, Glenn Douglas had been shot in the back by a man who wasn't fit to shine his boots.

The strange factor in this murder, was that Emmett Bonner had twice been a peace officer in his earlier days in Kansas, and Nebraska. Aside from those days, he had bounced around the country, working as a ranch hand, and riding shotgun for various stage lines. It was also alleged, but never proven, that he had robbed various ranch houses while the ranchers and their hands were out with the herds. One thing almost everyone agreed on. Bonner was not a man to be trusted.

Silas's voice was even and firm when he spoke.

Unbuckle your gun belt, Emmett. You're going to jail for the murder of Glenn Douglas.

Bonner smiled. Douglas made a mistake. Don't you make one too, Sheriff. You try to arrest me, and I'll kill you.

The Sheriff's answer was simple. Either drop the gun belt, or pull your pistol. I'm through waiting.

Bonner's cold eyes never changed as his hand flashed to his holster, pulled his pistol and fired twice before the Sheriff could get his pistol clear of it's holster. Despite taking Bonner's first bullet in the chest, Silas fought to stay on his feet. A second later, a second bullet hit him just below the rib cage. Emmett Bonner fired a third bullet, but it made little difference, for it missed, when the Sheriff fell face first to the floor, and lay still.

Chapter 2

With the men in the Saloon still somewhat stunned at the sight of their Sheriff lying in a pool of blood, Emmett Bonner raced out of the Saloon, climbed aboard the horse he'd left tied out front, then rode out of town as if the devil herself was chasing him.

Sam Rainey, the nearly bald, three hundred pound bartender, rushed to Silas Boyd's side, turned him over, examined his wounds, and then for the benefit of those in the Saloon, declared him to be dead. As a hush fell on the men, they began filing out the front door, on their way to spread the news to family and friends.

The exodus from The Broken Spur came to an abrupt halt when Noah Hale, the capable but often disagreeable town doctor, pushed his way through the crowd. Sam Rainey pointed at the Sheriff's body.

Doc, there's no need to waste your time. I checked him good. Silas is dead.

After closely checking the Sheriff's condition, the doctor, in his usual gruff manner barked, Sam, you wouldn't know a dead man from a marble statue. For your information, Silas is still alive. I don't know for how long, but right now, you can help most,by getting some men in here to carry him to my office.

* * *

While small groups of citizens kept a vigil outside the doctor's office, Silas hung between life and death, as Doc Hale, working with precious little rest, fought valiantly to keep him alive. Callie O'Brien, owner of O'Brien's Cafe, kept the place open late, so the people who kept watch, would have the food and coffee needed to help get them through the night.

If Silas Boyd had to go and get himself shot, he had one thing on his side. There were few doctors anywhere who had treated more gunshot wounds than Doctor Hale. During the Civil War, from start to finish, he had followed battlefield after battlefield, treating wounded soldiers, be they Blue or Gray.

Once the war was over, physically and mentally sick after enduring four years of bloody carnage, Hale headed west, looking for a nice quiet community, where he could start a normal medical practice. His stay in the first two towns had been short lived, for they were wild frontier towns, that far too often for his liking, once again had him digging bullets out of bodies. His third try landed him in the town of Silver Tip. Prior to this day, he had only been called on to treat gunshot wounds three times in the last two years, and one of those had been an accident.

On the other hand, most of the people in and around Silver Tip were hardy folks, who refrained from calling on a doctor for anything less than matters of a serious nature. While the lack of patients left him plenty of time to pursue his hobby of recording his western experiences on paper, it all too often presented a challenge in terms of paying his bills. Toward that end, Doc dug into the savings he had set aside for a rainy day, and bought a business, hoping it would provide a steadier source of income.

His new business was located approximately two hundred yards north of town. The building was plain, with no markings or signs. For reasons unknown, it had become known to it's patrons, as simply, The Lair.

The woman who sold the business to Doc Hale, was called Big Kay. She had been forced to go back east to tend to her father, who had been injured while working in a coal mine. Needing a quick sale to raise the money needed for her trip, once she heard Doc was looking for a deal, Big Kay acted quickly. The negotiation took less than fifteen minutes. In that scant amount of time, Doctor Noah Hale bought himself a whore house.

There were only four girls working in The Lair, and during the week, they faced more boredom than customers. Most of the income came on Saturday nights, when the cowboys from the area ranches came to town looking for fun and a break from the hard ranch routine. Doc Hale knew he was not going to get rich from his newly acquired business, but it was enough money to pay his bills. That allowed him the luxury of being able to hide most of the money he earned as a doctor, in an old suitcase that he kept hidden under the floor of his office.

* * *

Since Doctor Hale refused to leave the Sheriff's side, Callie O'Brien had been bringing food over to his office every day. On the third afternoon, as she reached the top of the stairs, Callie found Doc Hale holding his door open for her. As she stepped inside, Callie cautiously inquired, How is he doing?

His eyes weary, his face haggard and drawn from lack of sleep, the doctor reached over and used his knuckles to tap on his wooden desk.

I just finished giving our Sheriff another examination. He's better. No doubt about it. With a fair share of luck, I think he just might make it.

As she set the food tray down, Callie turned to her left, hiding the tears that suddenly blurred her vision. Quickly brushing away the tears, she turned and faced the doctor. Despite her efforts at self control, when she spoke, her voice broke just a little.

That's wonderful news, Doc. Thank you!

He offered a knowing smile, and in his usual gruff tone of voice, growled his answer.

Thank him, not me. If Silas hadn't insisted on living, I would have been wasting my time. Nodding in the direction of the room where he had been treating the Sheriff for the last thirty eight hours, he admitted, Yonder's a tough man. Nine out of ten would have died the first day.

Fearing that any attempt to speak might once again bring on tears, Callie simply nodded, then quickly left the office. Ignoring requests for information from those gathered outside the doctor's office, Callie kept her silence as she ran back to the Cafe. Expecting a few of the watchers to follow and insist on hearing the latest on the Sheriff's condition, Callie rushed through the Cafe, then locked herself in her living quarters located in the rear of the building.

Before she could trust herself to speak of Silas's condition without shedding tears of joy, she needed to deal with her own emotions. Like most everyone