Alex Bell - Fighting with fire

Something unexpected happened on the second morning, though: Jeremiah came to Dry Gulch House. Lex was in the bar when he arrived. Jeremiah came on his own, by carriage? the fool. He must have brought the carriage with him on board his ship, for it had the East coat of arms emblazoned in gold on the door. No doubt he had travelled across the desert in it when he reached the Western shore and was forced to leave his ship behind.

Lex was sitting by the window eating a tin of beans when Jeremiah arrived. Someone had given him a spoon but, for the look of the thing, he felt compelled to spill most of them down the front of his shirt, anyway.

No one actually noticed Jeremiah until he walked into the bar. When he came in, dressed in his fancy royal-blue coat with the golden buttons, hair brushed, jaw shaved and generally looking as clean cut as a man can be without being a woman, he couldn’t have stuck out any more than he did. Everyone went quiet, staring at him in amazement. Everyone knew that only cowboys were allowed into Dry Gulch House, now. Peasants weren’t allowed, farmers weren’t allowed and noblemen definitely were not allowed.

‘I am Jeremiah East,’ he announced to the room. His booted feet were planted firmly apart on the floor like he owned the place. It was clear that he was pleased with the fact that everyone had gone silent at his appearance. He had no idea that this was just the calm before the storm. ‘This house was the rightful property of my great-great-uncle, Nathaniel East. It was unlawfully taken from him a hundred years ago by savages. I have consulted a lawyer who has assured me that, despite the time that has elapsed, no deed of ownership was ever passed. This house is therefore still the property of the East family. You are all trespassing. I will give you one hour to vacate the premises. I expect you all to provide me with contact details so that later we can negotiate reparations for the vandalism done to the house. If you carry out my instructions to the letter then I will agree to waive my lawful right to collect rent for the period during which this house has been illegally occupied.’

Lex goggled at him. He’d known Jeremiah could be stupid, but he hadn’t realised just how stupid. As an ex-law-student, Lex knew that everything Jeremiah had said was, technically, true. But things like that just didn’t matter out here. Not here in the Wild West where disputes were decided by duels and the sheriff was just someone to throw stuff at on a slow-moving day.

The scar-faced cowboy Lex had crossed earlier was the first to react. He stood up from the table where he’d been drinking and told Jeremiah? with rather a lot of unnecessary swearing? to get out. Jeremiah actually looked shocked and outraged by this. It was clear that he had expected his little speech to work flawlessly.

‘The law is on my side,’ he said, going quite pale with anger. ‘I have the documentation with me, if you’d like to examine it. It’s quite bad enough that my poor uncle was slaughtered right here in his own home by a gang of savages like you, without having his house overrun by them as well! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves! You’re a corrupt, contemptible lot of cowards and I want you out of my family’s house right now.’

Calling them cowards was going just that little bit too far. These were men who produced far too much testosterone as it was, and prided themselves on being tough and manly and other such meaningless things. Yet there Jeremiah stood, looking rather smug and clearly thinking that he had just put everyone in their place, when, actually, the most likely reaction now was for one of the cowboys to stand up and shoot him straight in the chest.

‘Y’know I’m getting the sort of feeling that history is about to repeat itself,’ the scar-faced cowboy said. ‘First the uncle, then the nephew. We’ll put your head up in the trophy room, kid.’

‘You wouldn’t dare touch me!’ Jeremiah sneered.

Lex could have groaned aloud. He believed it! The idiot actually believed he wouldn’t be harmed here, when the fact was that he was seconds away from either being shot, or dragged outside to be strung up from the nearest tree. Lex had to wonder how the nobleman had even managed to survive into adulthood. He shook his head in despair (but only on the inside). The parents were to blame, really. This was what a posh school and too many private fencing classes could do to a person. But Jeremiah getting himself killed was the last thing Lex wanted. After all, he didn’t want to win the Game by default. Where would be the fun in that? He wanted to win gloriously. And that would be difficult to do with both Lorella and Jeremiah dead, and no one but Tess and a little sprite left to compete against. It would be like being the only adult on a toddlers’ wrestling team: you’d win all right, but there would be no glory in it. No, this wouldn’t do at all. Lex was just going to have to save the nobleman from himself. Again.

Before anyone else could do anything, Lex quickly scooped up a spoonful of beans from his tin, drew the spoon back, took careful aim and flicked them right at Jeremiah’s face. Lex was sitting only a few tables away and his aim was good. The beans splattered right across Jeremiah’s right cheek.

‘Boring man,’ Lex announced blithely to the room in general. ‘Boring speech. But nice coat.’

The other cowboys erupted into cheers and laughter at the same moment that Jeremiah roared in outrage. The nobleman’s head whipped around, looking for his assailant. Lex could have lowered his head and hidden his face under his hat, but he didn’t. Their eyes met and it was worth the risk to see the expression of utter amazement and fury on Jeremiah’s face at the sight of Lex sitting there in Dry Gulch House, calmly eating a tin of beans? or calmly dribbling a tin of beans, as the case may be. Disciplined as he was, it was too much for Lex and he broke one of his own rules then by breaking character just long enough to wink at Jeremiah. Then he instantly slipped back into Slow Sid and continued to eat his beans, staring vacantly out the window as if he’d already forgotten Jeremiah was even there.

‘Oh my Gods, that’s Lex-’ Jeremiah started to shout above the din, but was instantly cut off by a crust of bread hitting him on the nose. A moment later, he was being positively pelted with food. Everything and anything edible within easy reach was hurled at Jeremiah. It was mostly beans. Soon they covered his coat and his skin and his hair. It would have been glorious fun to watch but Lex forced himself to calmly finish his lunch whilst gazing blankly out of the window because that was, after all, what Slow Sid would have done.

Jeremiah tried to throw a punch at one point but the danger had passed by then. The cowboys were in too good a mood to think about killing him now. A lot of blood all over the place would completely ruin the atmosphere. So he was unceremoniously hurled out of the front door instead where he landed on his back in the dust by the front steps.

Lex hoped he would just get back in his carriage and drive away but instead Jeremiah stood up and, still bellowing in anger, actually started coming back towards the house? like someone just begging to be hanged by his neck until he was dead. The cowboys had clearly had enough of the game by then, for one of them fired a shot. It was not intended to kill but, still, the sound seemed to tear through the air as the bullet bit the ground between Jeremiah’s feet. The nobleman stumbled back, white as a sheet. The sudden quiet from the rest of the cowboys indicated very clearly that the fun was most definitely over.

‘If you don’t want to be strung up from that tree right there,’ the scar-faced cowboy said, pointing at the nearest one. ‘Then get in your fancy carriage, drive away, and don’t ever let us see your sorry face here ever again!’