Read Online No Less Than the Journey by E.V. Thompson - Free Book Online
Authors: E.V. Thompson
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exceptional muscle power in Wes’s arms and he used every ounce of it now to twist the young man’s arm sharply up behind his back, causing him to double over, his face coming into violentcontact with the baize covered table top.
The revolver he was trying to draw had almost cleared his waistband but he did not have a firm grip on it and as it fell to the floor Wes kicked it beneath the table before releasing his hold on the young man who was now shouting loudly that Wes was breaking his arm.
Wes hoped the pain would be sufficient to dissuade his opponent from continuing his violence and that he would leave the saloon. Instead, he came at Wes, arms flailing like a schoolboy involved in his first fight.
Wes, on the other hand, had been drawn into more than one brawl when drunken miners from rival mines were paid out their monthly wages in the same local hostelry.
Easily avoiding the other man’s wildly inaccurate blows, it took only two well-aimed punches to send him crashing to the saloon floor. Here, he lay on his back with only a twitching face muscle to show he was still living.
The noise that erupted from the crowd in the saloon was a combination of relief, approval and admiration. It died away when the overweight man whom Wes had seen board the steamboat at Vicksburg with the now unconscious young man, stormed into the saloon.
He had apparently been made aware of what was happening and, looking about him angrily, demanded, ‘Who did this? Who attacked my son?’
By this time the young man was showing signs of regaining consciousness and Wes replied, ‘If you mean, who dealt with him when he was about to shoot me, then I’m the one you are looking for, but …’
‘I want this man arrested … immediately !’ Raising his voice, the young man’s father cut across Wes’s explanation.
When no one moved to carry out his order, the large man said angrily, ‘I demand that my son’s attacker be locked awayand handed over to the authorities when we reach Memphis.’
At this point, Aaron pushed his way to the front of the unresponsive onlookers standing about the father and his son, who was now trying to sit up.
Speaking to the older of the two men, Aaron said, ‘You should be thanking this young man, not trying to have him arrested. He just saved your boy’s life.’
Startled, the recovering man’s father said, ‘What do you mean, “saved his life”? I am Senator Connolly, of Louisiana, and this man has just admitted attacking my son. I demand that he be locked up – immediately!’
‘I know who you are, Senator, but Wesley here hit your son when he tried to pull a gun on him. That’s how he saved your son’s life. If that gun had cleared his belt I’d have shot him dead.’
Aaron spoke in such a matter-of-fact manner that it was a few moments before the impact of his words registered with the Senator. When they did, he could scarcely control his rage.
‘You … you would have done what? How dare you…? Who are you?’
‘I’m a Federal Marshal, Senator, on my way West.’
Senator Connolly was nonplussed for only a moment. The man standing in front of him did not look like a Federal Marshal and he said, ‘If you really are a marshal then I demand that you arrest this man and charge him with assaulting my son.’
‘I’ll be happy to do that, Senator,’ Aaron said, cheerfully, ‘but if I do I will also have to arrest your son for assaulting a woman – and for attempting to draw a gun with intent to murder an unarmed man.’
Taken aback, Connolly said, ‘Attempting to murder…? Why, my son is hardly more than a boy. You would be laughed out of court.’
‘A bullet doesn’t ask the age of the man – or boy – who pulls the trigger of the gun it’s fired from. It just goes ahead and kills someone. There’s me, the woman your son assaulted, and a couple of dozen witnesses here who will testify against him. But you just go ahead with your complaint, Senator, and I’ll carry out
The revolver he was trying to draw had almost cleared his waistband but he did not have a firm grip on it and as it fell to the floor Wes kicked it beneath the table before releasing his hold on the young man who was now shouting loudly that Wes was breaking his arm.
Wes hoped the pain would be sufficient to dissuade his opponent from continuing his violence and that he would leave the saloon. Instead, he came at Wes, arms flailing like a schoolboy involved in his first fight.
Wes, on the other hand, had been drawn into more than one brawl when drunken miners from rival mines were paid out their monthly wages in the same local hostelry.
Easily avoiding the other man’s wildly inaccurate blows, it took only two well-aimed punches to send him crashing to the saloon floor. Here, he lay on his back with only a twitching face muscle to show he was still living.
The noise that erupted from the crowd in the saloon was a combination of relief, approval and admiration. It died away when the overweight man whom Wes had seen board the steamboat at Vicksburg with the now unconscious young man, stormed into the saloon.
He had apparently been made aware of what was happening and, looking about him angrily, demanded, ‘Who did this? Who attacked my son?’
By this time the young man was showing signs of regaining consciousness and Wes replied, ‘If you mean, who dealt with him when he was about to shoot me, then I’m the one you are looking for, but …’
‘I want this man arrested … immediately !’ Raising his voice, the young man’s father cut across Wes’s explanation.
When no one moved to carry out his order, the large man said angrily, ‘I demand that my son’s attacker be locked awayand handed over to the authorities when we reach Memphis.’
At this point, Aaron pushed his way to the front of the unresponsive onlookers standing about the father and his son, who was now trying to sit up.
Speaking to the older of the two men, Aaron said, ‘You should be thanking this young man, not trying to have him arrested. He just saved your boy’s life.’
Startled, the recovering man’s father said, ‘What do you mean, “saved his life”? I am Senator Connolly, of Louisiana, and this man has just admitted attacking my son. I demand that he be locked up – immediately!’
‘I know who you are, Senator, but Wesley here hit your son when he tried to pull a gun on him. That’s how he saved your son’s life. If that gun had cleared his belt I’d have shot him dead.’
Aaron spoke in such a matter-of-fact manner that it was a few moments before the impact of his words registered with the Senator. When they did, he could scarcely control his rage.
‘You … you would have done what? How dare you…? Who are you?’
‘I’m a Federal Marshal, Senator, on my way West.’
Senator Connolly was nonplussed for only a moment. The man standing in front of him did not look like a Federal Marshal and he said, ‘If you really are a marshal then I demand that you arrest this man and charge him with assaulting my son.’
‘I’ll be happy to do that, Senator,’ Aaron said, cheerfully, ‘but if I do I will also have to arrest your son for assaulting a woman – and for attempting to draw a gun with intent to murder an unarmed man.’
Taken aback, Connolly said, ‘Attempting to murder…? Why, my son is hardly more than a boy. You would be laughed out of court.’
‘A bullet doesn’t ask the age of the man – or boy – who pulls the trigger of the gun it’s fired from. It just goes ahead and kills someone. There’s me, the woman your son assaulted, and a couple of dozen witnesses here who will testify against him. But you just go ahead with your complaint, Senator, and I’ll carry out
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