Although there were six armed men on one side and only two on the other, these bare odds were misleading in the extreme. Both Jeremiah Hammond and Bob Barker had spent their entire lives using firearms and were perfectly familiar not only with the practicalities of shooting, but also with maintaining their heads under fire. It is one thing to fool around from time to time, as all the cowboys had, with shooting at bottles balanced on fenceposts; it is quite another thing to take careful aim when somebody is trying to blow your head off.
The instant that Barker saw the boy reaching for his gun, he had dropped to the sidewalk and rolled down into the road. The young fellow who was shooting at him was, as has been mentioned, tolerably good at shooting fixed and inanimate objects like bottles and rocks, but was less able to hit a moving target. He fired five shots, none of which came within two foot of Barker.
As Barker threw himself down, Jeremiah Hammond moved into action. He was a little vexed with the outlaw for turning up in this way and having the temerity to represent himself as being about to rescue a marshal from this bunch of roughnecks. Never the less, it provided the opportunity that Hammond needed to draw his piece. He did so, cocking it at the same time. The six men all had their backs to him now and he could not bring himself to shoot anyone in the back. When the first shots were being fired though, he marked the man who was doing the shooting and reckoned that this man at least was fair game and could be justifiably shot. The Marshal fired twice at him, hitting him firstly in his trunk and then following that up with a shot to his head.
The other five cowboys were taken aback by finding themselves in the midst of a gun battle. All they had really been after was throwing their weight about a little and showing off. As things had now reached this pitch though, they all of them felt honour bound to draw their weapons and start shooting.
Barker, who had not yet fired, now drew his own pistol and rose to his feet. He singled out the weakest willed of the young men, a boy of nineteen who had pulled his gun out and now stood there looking bewildered, with no idea of what to do next. It was an easy target and Barker shot him twice. Meanwhile, the Marshal had ducked into a store and now leaned out to fire at the four remaining men.
Barker ran down the street a way, giving at first sight the look of a man fleeing from the fight. In truth though, he was both preventing any of the other combatants from drawing down on him and getting a good aim and also encouraging them to waste their ammunition. He stopped running and without any warning dropped once more to the ground and fired at another man. This time, he missed.
The cowboys had recovered from their shock at finding themselves embroiled in a gunfight of this nature and were crouching behind water butts, boxes and other such things which were piled outside the stores which lined this part of Main Street. One of the men was foolish enough to stand up so that he could get a clear shot at Barker, whereupon he was instantly cut down by a bullet from Marshal Hammond. He and Barker, both experienced gunfighters, almost seemed to be working in tandem. The problem comes in such cases from the rank amateur who has no idea how to conduct himself and therefore behaves in an alarmingly unexpected way that can take the professionals aback. A man of this sort can disrupt things badly, as Hammond found to his cost. He had fired four times, killing two men, which was not bad going, all things considered. Keenly aware that he only had one bullet remaining and realising that he might have done worse than hang on to that other pistol which the deputies in Wichita had loaned him, Hammond stopped for a moment to wonder how he would be able to carry on after firing his pistol one more time.
Few activities are more hazardous during a shootout than stopping to think about your next move. For it was just as Jeremiah Hammond’s attention wandered from the here and now that one young man jumped to his feet and ran straight at the Marshal, where he was mostly concealed behind the doorway of the hardware store. Nobody with any prior knowledge of how to survive in a battle of this kind would have dreamed for a moment of making such a rash charge; running straight towards somebody firing from a protected position. Hammond’s mind was elsewhere to the extent that he failed to react to the threat until the young fellow was six feet from him. Then they both fired simultaneously.
The Marshal felt a searing, burning pain in his shoulder and knew at once that he had been hit. It was small comfort for him to see the man who had shot him fall lifeless to the sidewalk, with Hammond’s last bullet lodged in his brain.
Bob Barker was feeling that special exhilaration that comes from surviving a hail of gunfire. He had not looked for such an enterprise this morning, but now that it had come, he was pretty well content at the way that it was all turning out. Between the two of them, him and the marshal were bidding fair to settle every one of those cowboys. It was then that Barker saw a sight which chilled his blood. Esther Hammond, far from going to seek shelter, was now running towards the scene of battle because she had just seen her father get shot.
“Go back!” shouted Barker, but the girl did not hear him. She had seen her father go down and nothing was more important to her in this world, or the next, than speaking to him for what might be one last time and begging his forgiveness. She did not know it but the case was not as desperate as she thought. Hammond had certainly gone down after being shot, but he was not out of the game yet. Although he was bleeding pretty freely from a flesh wound in his shoulder, he still had the presence of mind to snatch up the gun of the man who had shot him. Then, he too saw Esther dashing towards him across the street. He too shouted, “No, get back!”; but his daughter took no more notice of this than she had of Barker’s similar exhortation.
Marshal Hammond forced himself to his feet and even managed a few faltering steps. If the two cowboys had been looking in his direction, it would have been all up with him, because it was all he could do to remain upright, let alone raise his arm and fire a pistol. Fortunately, they were both staring at the spectacle of Bob Barker, who had jumped up and was shouting, “Cease firing, this girl has no part of this. Hold your fire.”
One of the cowboys stayed crouched down where he was, whether he was heeding Barker’s cries or had just had enough of the fight was open to question. His companion though, seeing that one of his opponents had let down his guard, stood up and deliberately shot Bob Barker twice. The first bullet shattered his wrist, but the second took him through the chest. There was little opportunity for him to rejoice at this victory though, because Jeremiah Hammond had summoned up his last reserves of strength and raised the pistol in his hand, shooting the cowboy through the back of the head. The lone survivor of what might not inaptly be termed a massacre, sprang to his feet at this point and sprinted off down the street.
Slowly and unsteadily, Hammond stepped off the sidewalk and towards the spot where his daughter was holding the hand of the dying man. When he reached them, the marshal sank to his knees and said to Barker, “Well, we took them alright.”
Barker tried to smile, but grimaced instead. “I am shot to bits, Hammond.”
“I mind you would not have been so but for trying to save my daughter. I know it and cannot give you thanks enough.”
Barker made a dismissive gesture with his head, as if to say that this was not worth mentioning. Then he spoke one last time. He spoke to Esther, saying, “Recollect what I told you on the road, you hear me?” Then he closed his eyes and did not reopen them.
Now that the shooting had stopped, people began coming out of the stores and extricating themselves from the various undignified places that they had been hiding from the gunfire. The five corpses laying scattered in front of the hardware store excited interest, but nobody wanted to involve themselves in the scene taking place in the road, where a badly wounded man was embracing a young woman over the lifeless body of another victim of the fighting.
Both Jeremiah Hammond and his daughter were prey to strong emotions at the end of what was to become a legendary event in the history of Abilene. For his part, Hammond saw somebody kneeling besides him who was no longer a fractious and disobedient child, but rather a person who was, to all intents and purposes, a grown woman. Esther found herself looking not at a stern and unforgiving parent, but a tired, middle aged man who was looking worn out and borne down by cares. These new perspectives came as something of a shock to them both.
The journey back to Linton was not an easy one. Once his shoulder was patched up, Hammond needed to rest for a few days. He and Esther booked into Abilene’s only respectable hotel for this period. The town marshal was not pleased at the course of events and could not for the life of him make out how a lawman could have ended up fighting side by side with a known criminal such as Bob Barker. It was a mystery that neither Jeremiah Hammond nor his daughter were inclined to clear up for him.
While they were staying at the hotel, Hammond gave his daughter to understand that he was informed as to every aspect of her life since leaving Linton. He offered no condemnation, but rather bent his efforts to destroying every scrap of evidence that remained. This included burning the $100 bills which she still had in her possession.
“I do not propose,” said Marshal Hammond to his daughter, “Ever to mention or discuss this affair again, when once we are back in Linton. You will find that there is a certain amount of suspicion attached to you, but the night watchman who your friend assaulted has now dug up and left. This means that there is no case to answer, as he was the only witness. Still and all, word has spread about what took place and you will find folks look sideways at you. It can’t be helped.”
“I’m sorry..” began the girl, but Hammond cut in, not brutally but in a reasonable and matter of fact way.
“That’s nothing to the purpose, Esther. I am not asking to hear confessions of remorse. I have been to blame in the past perhaps for caring about such outward acts of piety. If you are sorry, then show it to others.”
“What about that fellow in Wichita?” asked Esther, “You know of that.”
“The same thing,” said the Marshal, “I will say nothing of the matter and if you are sorry then try to live better from now on. You are my daughter and I love you.”
This was the first time in her entire life that she had heard her father use the word “love” in connection with her and Esther found her eyes filling with tears. They embraced.
It would be pleasant to relate that Jeremiah Hammond and his daughter never fell out again and that the episode at Wichita marked a complete change in how the two of them were with each other. Life is not really like that and there were to be many occasions in the future when Marshal Hammond wanted to reproach his daughter with her infamous conduct. He somehow managed to hold his tongue though and keep his own counsel.
One unexpected beneficiary of this new way of life was Caroline Hammond, who found her star rising to no small degree in the household; being consulted now about many aspects of her niece’s life, from the clothes she wore to the dances that she might attend. Nearly losing his only child had had the profoundest effect upon Marshal Hammond and it was widely noticed that he was a changed man on his return from Wichita and Abilene.
The very first night that he brought Esther back to her home, Jeremiah Hammond sat up late, reading his Bible. He prayed chiefly for himself, asking the Lord to soften his heart and help him to be a better and more understanding parent. Before he slept, he read once more that text which suggests that the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children. He closed the Good Book and muttered to himself, “Not always. Not here, if I know anything about it.” Then he turned out the lamp and went to sleep.
Thank you Simon that was a very enjoyable read.
Thanks Simon for another great story and it was a pleasure to read it. I'm looking forward to the next one.