Richard Matheson - The Gun Fight

Her hands shook and there was a great sick churning in her stomach.

Suddenly she sobbed. “ Robby! ” His name fell like a shattered thing from her lips.

In an hour and a half . . .

Chapter Twenty-seven

She’d been silent all the way back to the ranch; silent as he unhitched the mare but left his own horse saddled and tied up in front of the house. Silent as they went into the house and found the kitchen table covered with the remains of the dinner the boys had made for themselves; silent as John went into the bedroom, silent as she stood in the middle of the small kitchen, listening to the sound of his footsteps, the sound of the clock ticking, her eyes fastened to the doorway he would return through. All this time, silent.

But when he came back in, buckling on his gunbelt, she felt herself twitch suddenly and words came.

“John, you can’t,” she said, “you just can’t.”

He stopped walking and looked at her, his face strained with unvoiced tensions. For a moment his hands were motionless on the belt buckle. Then they finished up and dropped to his sides and a heavy breath of air expanded his chest before slowly emptying from it.

“I have to,” was all he said.

“But why?”

His lips pressed together a little as he stood there looking at her. Then he turned and glanced at the clock. It was almost two.

“I think you know why,” he said.

He went over to the stove and opened one of the covers. Dropping in some kindling and crumpled newspaper, he lit them with a sulfur match. Julia stood there, without a word, staring at the pistol butt bobbing slightly on his left hip as he stirred up the flames and put the coffee pot over them.

Suddenly she moved to him and her hands clutched at his arms.

“Just don’t go,” she said impulsively. “Just refuse to fight him.”

He tried to look patient with her but it didn’t work. He shook his head once, very slowly.

“But why ?” she asked again, a tremor in her voice.

“Julia, you know why. You heard what Matt Coles said. If I don’t come into town, Robby’ll come out here.” His head shook again. “I won’t have that, Julia,” he said.

“But he won’t come out.”

“You know different,” he said calmly. “You know what’s behind him, pushin’.”

“But he wouldn’t shoot you down in cold blood!”

“He would if his father made him,” John said, a little more loudly now. “No, it’s no good, Julia, it’s just no good. I’m not goin’ to set here and wait for Robby to come out lookin’ for me.”

“But John, he wouldn’t shoot you, he’s not that way.”

Benton blew out a tired breath and turned back to the stove to move the coffee pot restlessly over the fire.

“Whether he shot me or not,” he said, “it’d be the same. I’d be a laughin’stock.”

“Laughingstock?” she said, uncomprehendingly. “I don’t—”

“I could never ride into town again without bein’ laughed at.”

“Well who cares about that?” Julia argued. “Isn’t it more important that—”

“I care,” Benton said, turning abruptly, his face hard and determined. “I didn’t start this fight, Julia; you know I didn’t start it. But I’m not lettin’ anybody push me into a corner and make a fool of—”

“You’d rather kill, is that it?” she said sharply.

“If that’s what you think . . .” Benton didn’t finish up but turned slowly to the stove again.

Julia felt herself trembling with nervous anger.

“We’ll move then,” she said desperately. “We’ll go away.”

“ What? ” He looked at her incredulously. “After all the work we’ve put into this place? Just move? What kind of an idea is that?”

“I just don’t want you to fight that boy!” she flared up at him.

His face stiffened as if he were about to yell back at her but he repressed it instantly.

“Listen, Julia,” he said, “I’ve done everything you ever asked of me. I finally left the Rangers because you couldn’t take worryin’ anymore, it wasn’t just the Grahams. I never wore a gun in the town, I only wore it on the ranch. I didn’t even join that posse though I should have. But don’t ask me to back out of this.”

“You said you’d never put on a gun against anyone as long as you lived,” she said in a hollow voice.

He looked at her as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard.

“Julia, what do you want me to do—forget I’m a man? Creep away from this fight? I didn’t start the damn thing, I didn’t have a thing to do with it. But, for God’s sake, don’t expect me to run away from it when—”

“You promised, John.” It was all she could say.

“I said I wouldn’t put on a gun against anybody! I never said I wouldn’t defend myself! Can’t you see there’s a difference?”

“This isn’t just anybody!” she said vehemently. “This is a boy who hasn’t got a chance against you!”

“I make it that way?” he asked. “Did I tell him to challenge me?”

“It doesn’t matter who challenged who! You can’t fight him, that’s all!”

“Julia, I’m going to fight him.”

The words seemed to come from the very depth of her fear and her fury; they fell from her lips slowly and clearly.

“John Benton,” she said, “if you draw your gun against that boy, it’ll be murder. Murder !”

He looked at her colorless face a long time before turning away to the stove and saying, “That’s right. It will be.”

She stood there shivering, watching his steady hand pour coffee into the cup. He took the cup and walked out of the room and she listened to the sound of his boots moving through the house, then the sound of him sinking down on their bed.

Her eyes suddenly closed and she flung a hand across them as a wracking sob broke in her throat. Stumbling through a haze of tears, she moved to the table and sank down, her head falling forward on her arms, her body lurching with great, hopeless sobs.

She was conscious of the clock striking two.

Then, outside, there was a sound of turning wheels and thudding hooves. She straightened up with a gasp, a look of shocked surprise on her face. Hastily, she reached into her dress pocket and drew out a handkerchief. She dabbed at her cheeks and eyes as she stood up and hurried to the door.

It’s them, the terrifying thought came suddenly. They said three but it was only a trick and they were coming at two to catch John by surprise.

Then, in the doorway, she stopped and stared out blankly at the small woman getting out of a rig with hurried, nervous movements.

Julia stood rooted there as the woman came up to her.

“Your husband hasn’t gone yet, has he?” the woman asked quickly.

“No,” Julia said, not understanding. “No, he—”

“Thank God,” Jane Coles said fervently, then stood there awkwardly, clutching the shawl to herself.

“Come in,” Julia said, feeling her heart start to throb in slow, heavy beats. What was Mrs. Coles doing there? For a second, Julia had the wild hope that the fight was canceled and Mrs. Coles was the one they’d sent with the message. But that didn’t make sense and she knew it.

As she stepped aside to let the small woman enter, John appeared in the other doorway, tensed as though he were expecting the same thing Julia had expected.

When he saw Robby’s mother, the tenseness left his face and was replaced by a look of startled surprise. He didn’t say anything as Mrs. Coles came over to him.

“Mister Benton,” she said.

He nodded once. “Missus Coles,” he replied, looking down at the small frailty of her.

“I—” She said. “I . . . wanted to—to—”