Showdown at Dead End Canyon

“I told you, ma’am, he killed two men yesterday.”

“But you also said the other men drew first, did you not?”

The sheriff nodded. “That’s what the witnesses are all sayin’.”

“If that is the case, wouldn’t it be classified as justifiable homicide?”

“Justifiable homicide?”

“Self-defense,” Bailey explained.

“Yes, ma’am, I reckon a body could call it self-defense. But that’s not for me to decide. It is up to a judge and prosecutor to decide whether or not they want to charge him and bring him to trial.”

“You and I both know that when they hear the witnesses’ testimony, they are going to rule it was self- defense,” Bailey said. “So, there’s really no need to arrest him, is there? Couldn’t you just parole him to my care? I promise to be responsible for him.”

The sheriff chuckled. “You promise to be responsible for him?” he asked. “Excuse me, ma’am, but you must know how strange it sounds that you, a…woman”—though he didn’t say small woman, he implied it by the break in his words—“could be responsible for Ethan Dancer?”

“Sheriff, you have to understand that Mr. Dancer does what I tell him to do. Exactly what I tell him to do,” she added pointedly.

The sheriff stroked his jaw for a moment. He obviously didn’t want to face Dancer. Finally, he nodded.

“What is your name?”

“My name is Bailey McPherson. I’m sure that even the most rudimentary check as to who I am would satisfy you that I can do what I say.”

“And you want me to parole him to you?”

Bailey smiled up at him. “I do.”

“You’ll make certain he is present for the trial?”

“If a trial is necessary, I will make certain that he is present,” Bailey promised. “But for now, I have business that I must attend to in Green River. And I shall require Mr. Dancer to accompany me.”

“If you don’t mind my askin’, what would he be accompanyin’ you for?”

“If you must know, he is my bodyguard. I frequently carry large sums of money, and I feel safe when he is with me.”

“Yes, ma’am, well, I reckon I can see that all right. Is there a way to get hold of you, Miss McPherson? I mean, if I need you for anything.”

“Yes. You can always send a telegram to Bailey McPherson Enterprises, Green River. The telegrapher will get the message to me.”

“All right, I’ll parole him to you,” the sheriff said, clearly pleased that he would not have to attempt to arrest Dancer.

“You’ve made a good decision, Sheriff,” Bailey said.

Leaving him, Bailey walked up to the ticket counter to check on the train. She could barely see over the counter.

“Excuse me,” she said.

The ticket clerk turned around. For a moment he was confused as to where the voice had come from.

“I’m down here,” Bailey said.

Looking down, the clerk saw her. “Yes, may I help you?” he asked.

“What is your latest information on the westbound train? Will it be on time?”

“We received a telegram from Bushnell a short time ago,” the clerk replied. “It left the depot on time.”

“Thank you.”

As Bailey returned to the depot dining room, she thought of what the sheriff had told her. Although Dancer had said nothing about killing the two men, they had been in Bitter Creek two days earlier and the train had spent an hour in the depot there while some repair work was being done. Bailey stayed on the train, but Dancer left to go to the saloon. He returned in time for the train to leave, then sat in the overstuffed chair of the parlor car and went to sleep.

He had said nothing at all about an encounter at the saloon.

Bailey wasn’t really surprised, either that it happened or that he had said nothing about it. Employing a man like Ethan Dancer was a little like staring into the abyss. She found it frightening, but at the same time strangely erotic.

“I just spoke with the ticket agent. The train is on time,” she said to Dancer when she returned to the table they were sharing.

Dancer nodded but said nothing.

“I spoke to the sheriff too.”

“Did you?” It was Dancer’s only response.

“Mr. Dancer, when the train stopped in Bitter Creek the other day, did anything happen?”

“Why do you ask?” Dancer replied.

“The sheriff says you killed two men.”

“I did.”

“God in heaven, man!” Bailey burst out. “You killed two men just in the period of time that we were in Bitter Creek, and you didn’t even think it was important enough to mention?”

“I figured you had read about it,” Dancer said.

“Read about it?”

Dancer picked up the paper and pointed to a story that was on the front page in the lower right-hand corner.

“It’s no secret,” he said.

Bailey looked at the article he pointed out.

TWO MEN KILLED

Thursday night last, a terrible shooting affair occurred at the Boar’s Breath saloon in Bitter Creek. Two Texans, at this point known only as Boomer and Dooley, arrived in Bitter Creek, ostensibly to look for employment as cowboys.

An altercation developed between the two cowboys and Ethan Dancer. It is not known why

Ethan Dancer was in Bitter Creek, as this small town is not a normal part of his “haunts.” It is believed, however, that he was on the eastbound train, which remained in town longer than normal due to a mechanical problem.

Apparently, the cowboys did not recognize Ethan Dancer, despite his distinctive appearance. As tempers grew hotter, angry words were exchanged, and the two cowboys went for their guns. Although no witness can recall what caused the altercation, all are in agreement that the cowboys drew first.

It is not known how many rash men, attempting to try their hand at besting Ethan Dancer, have fallen under his guns. It is not certain that even Dancer knows. But let all who would challenge him be warned. He is as deadly as a rattlesnake, and as quick as thought.

A collection was made to purchase two coffins and the cowboys are buried in a common grave under a single grave marker with the following inscription:

Here Lie Boomer and Dooley

Two cowboys from the South.

They would still be alive

If they had not opened their mouth.

Bailey read the article, then looked up. “Mr. Dancer, what is it like?” she asked.

“What is what like?” Dancer replied.

“What is it like to kill a man? What does it feel like?”

Dancer was surprised by the expression on Bailey’s face and the intense look of excitement in her eyes. He realized then that, instead of being distressed by the fact that he had killed two men, she was actually intrigued by it. She was more than intrigued, she was fascinated, even excited.

“It’s a good feeling,” Dancer said.

“A good feeling, how?”

“A good feeling like when I have a woman and—”