William Johnstone - Eyes of Eagles

Burl questioned the boy, and got the same story as he had earlier from Sam Montgomery.

“Let fly them arrows a bit quick, I’d say,” Hart Olmstead said.

“You weren’t here,” Jamie said, meeting the man’s gaze. “So how would you know?”

“Don’t you sass me, you smart-mouthed half Injun pup!” Hart said.

“That’ll do, Hart!” Sam stepped between them. “You’re forgetting that you are in my home. I’ll not permit you to browbeat this boy.”

“I’m an officer of the law, Sam. You interfere with my questionin’ of this boy and I’ll put you behind bars.”

“I’d like to see you try that, Hart,” Sam’s words were quietly offered. But they were edged with tempered steel. “As far as you being an officer of the law, you’re nothing but a joke. You and John both. Now get out of my house.”

Hart Olmstead marched to the front door of the fine home near the edge of wilderness, his boots thudding heavily. At the door, he turned and pointed a blunt finger at Sam. “I’ll thrash no man in front of a good woman, Sam Montgomery, and your Sarah is a good woman. But I give you warnin’ now, first time I see you alone in town, I’d challenge you to fists, by God.”

Sam stiffened in anger. He was not as big as Hart Olmstead, but was very strong. And Jamie suspected, from looking at Sam’s big, flat-knuckled hands, the man knew how to fight.

“Sam ...” Sarah said.

“Stay out of this, Sarah. I’ll have no man throw down a challenge and expect me to stand by and do nothing. Get outside, Olmstead. I am going to teach you a lesson you will never forget.” Sam had no way of knowing how prophetic his words would turn out to be.

Hart Olmstead’s face turned first chalk white and then beet red. He very nearly tore the door down getting out of the home. Sam Montgomery removed his coat and took off his shirt. His muscles fairly rippled as he flexed his arms. He winked at Jamie. “I don’t hold with fighting, lad. But there comes a time when a man must fight for what he believes in. Sarah, would you be so kind as to grind some beans and have a fresh pot of coffee for me. And also have some hot water to bathe my cuts and bruises. Mr. Olmstead is a brute, and I shall not come out of this unscathed.”

Sarah waited until the heavy bell stopped ringing in the front yard.

“Certainly,” Sarah said, her face pale. She cut her eyes to Jamie. “The boy...”

“The boy has been a man for some time, I suspect. He will be outside, with me.”

“Why the bell, Sam?” Sarah asked.

“Olmstead wants everyone in our community to be here to see me receive a thrashing at his hands. I am afraid he is to be sorely disappointed. Sorely, in more ways than one,” he added with a small smile.

Sam and Jamie walked out of the house while the neighbors were gathering. The women hurried into the house. In the front yard, Sam said, “Get away from Sarah’s flowers. I don’t want them trampled on.” Sam walked out of the yard and to the side of the road. “Get over here, Olmstead, and toe the mark.”

Jamie looked back at the home. All the women had gathered at the windows and thrown open the shutters. He turned to look at Hart Olmstead. Sam had been right; the man was a brute, with massive shoulders and arms. And Jamie could tell he was spoiling for a fight.

Olmstead spat on the ground and lifted his fists. “Now, rich boy, you’ll get your comeuppance. I intend to knock you off that ivory tower you sit on like a king.”

Jamie had been right in guessing that Sam Montgomery was a man of substance. And people like John Jackson and Hart Olmstead always resented those with money.

Jamie’s pa had told him that.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Jamie had taken a pistol from Sam’s holster that hung from a peg in the hallway and shoved it behind his belt and pulled out his shirttail to cover the butt. He didn’t trust the sheriff or John Jackson. He believed neither of them to be honorable men.

Hart walked up to Sam and Sam hit him twice in the face before Hart could blink. The blows were powerful ones that rocked Hart’s head back and bloodied the bigger man’s lips and nose.

Hart cursed Sam and took a wild swing that, had it connected, would have done some damage. Sam ducked under the whistling fist and struck Hart a terrible blow to the stomach. The air wheezed out of Olmstead and before he could recover, Sam had knocked him down in the mud with a hard left.

“I’m probably making a bad mistake, but I’ll not put the boots to you, Olmstead,” Sam told him, backing up and giving the man room. “Although if the position were reversed, I believe you would not hesitate to kick me.”

Hart Olmstead rose slowly to his feet, hate and fury in his eyes and on his bloody face. “No man does this to me,” he panted the words. “No man!”

“I just did,” Sam spoke calmly. “But it need not continue. Whether it does or not, depends entirely on you.”

With a roar of rage and a wild obscenity on his lips, Hart charged Sam, hoping to get him in a bear hug and crush some ribs. But Sam had anticipated that and merely stepped to one side and tripped the bigger and heavier man, sending him crashing to the ground, sliding in the mud for a few feet, on his belly, chest, and face.

The men all laughed and that made Hart Olmstead even angrier. “Damn you all!” he screamed, getting to his knees and squatting there in the mud and the blood. “I’m an officer of the law in this county. I demand respect. And I command the whole damn lot of you to stop laughing.”

That brought even more laughter and hoots and catcalls of derision from the crowd of men. Over it all, Jamie could faintly hear giggling coming from the house. Jamie cut his eyes to Sheriff Marwick. The man looked embarrassed.

Hart got to his feet and the man was a mess, mud and blood dripping from him. Sam stood nonchalantly, still neat as a pin. He had not even broken a sweat.

“Give this up, Hart,” Sam said. “We’ll call it a draw and shake hands and you can clean up over yonder at the rain barrel. What say you, Hart?”

“I’ll kill you!” Hart screamed, and rushed at Sam.

Hart was swinging both fists and they both connected against Sam, knocking the man backward and bloodying his lips. Sam regained his balance and clubbed the maddened Olmstead hard on the back of the neck, knocking him down. Olmstead was up on his feet fast and rushed Sam. For a moment, the two men stood toe to toe and slugged it out, both of them landing hard punches.

But soon Sam’s blows began to have an effect on Olmstead, backing the man up, blood streaming from the man’s mouth and nose. Olmstead’s lips were pulped and his nose was nearly flat.

Hart back-heeled Sam and sent him crashing to the ground. Hart tried to put the boots to the smaller man and Sam rolled away, jumping to his feet. Hart rushed him and Sam stopped the man cold in his tracks with a solid left and right to both sides of the man’s jaw. Hart’s knees wobbled and Sam bored in relentlessly, hammering hard with blows to the head and the body.

Hart covered up his face and backed away, trying to clear his head and recover his waning strength. But Sam pressed him, hitting hard with body blows. Hart lowered his fists to protect his bruised and aching belly and Sam wound up a right and blasted the big man flush in the mouth, following that with a left that when it landed sounded like someone hit a watermelon with the flat side of an axe. Hart’s eyes rolled back and he went down to his knees in the churned-up mud. He stayed on his knees for a few seconds, then slowly toppled over, face first in the rutted road.

The crowd stood silent, but every man there had a smile on his lips. And that did not go unnoticed by Sheriff Marwick and John Jackson. It was at that point when Jackson realized just how much he and Marwick and Olmstead were disliked by the members of the community.