Shootout of the Mountain Man by William W. Johnstone, J. A. Johnstone Page A

the jail, he could hear the sawing and hammering on the gallows that was being constructed for his hanging.
    “Are you scared, Bobby Lee?”
    The question came from the prisoner who was in the cell next to his. Andy Emerson was a small man, around five feet five inches tall, with a sweeping mustache that seemed oversized for his short stature. He was also a cowboy who drank too much. He was never a mean drunk, though he did, in his own words, sometimes develop “a mountain lion’s attitude in a pussycat’s body.” He often manifested this mannerism when confronting Sheriff Wallace or one of his deputies, and as a result, Wallace had a personal grudge against him. Andy spent a lot of time in jail for public drunkenness when others, who were often drunker, were given a pass.
    “I guess I’m a little frightened,” Bobby Lee confessed.
    “A little frightened? If I was about to be hanged, I’d be so scared I couldn’t even talk,” Andy said. “You’re about the bravest person I ever met.”
    “I’m not that brave, Andy, believe me,” Bobby Lee said. “What’s the sheriff got you in for now?”
    “I was at the Gold Strike last night,” Andy said. “I had a few drinks, sure, but I wasn’t drunk, you can ask anybody there. But the next thing you know, Wallace was in there accusin’ me of getting drunk and causing a disturbance.” Andy paused for a moment. “The thing is, well, he just kept pushin’ until I got mad and I shoved him. Then I really was causin’ a disturbance. But only ‘cause he sort of drove me to it.”
    “Andy, we’ve talked about this before,” Bobby Lee said. “You really do have to cut back on your drinking. You’ve gotten yourself on the sheriff’s bad side and he’s just going to keep riding you till you really do get in trouble.”
    “I know, I know,” Andy said. “You’ve always been straight with me. I ought to pay attention to you.”
    At that moment, they heard the sound of the door that led from the front half of the building back to the jail cells being opened. Deputy Harley Beard came into the back and opened the door to Andy’s cell. “You can go now,” he said. “But next time we catch you drunk in town, you’ll wind up in here again.”
    “Yeah,” Andy said, reaching back onto the bunk for his hat. He put it on, then looked over at Bobby Lee.
    “Bobby Lee, when it happens—uh, I mean, when they hang you—I ain’t goin’ to be there watchin'. I hope you understand. I’ve always figured you for a friend, and I don’t think I want to watch a friend get his neck stretched. That don’t mean I’m not goin’ to be thinkin’ about you. It’s just that I don’t want to be here when it’s happenin'.”
    “I understand,” Bobby Lee replied.
    “Bye, Bobby Lee.”
    “You goin’ to hang around jabberin’ with him, or are you goin’ to get out of here?” Deputy Beard asked. “'Cause if you’re just goin’ to hang around, I can put you back in jail and you two folks can just visit all you want.”
    “I’m goin',” Andy said.
    Beard waited until Andy left before he turned to Bobby Lee’s cell.
    “Cabot, you got a visitor,” Deputy Beard said.
    “Who is it?”
    “Who is it? It’s the whore. Who else would waste their time comin’ to see you?”
    “Good, please send her in.”
    Beard disappeared into the front of the building, but Bobby Lee could still hear him talking.
    “Better let me search you, to make sure you ain’t takin’ him no weapons.” There was a decided leering tone in the sound of his voice.
    “Watch your hands.” There was irritation in the woman’s voice.
    “Ha! Like you haven’t had hands there before,” Beard said. “All right, you can go in.”
    Standing at the front of his cell, Bobby Lee watched as Minnie Smith came into the back. Minnie was a pretty girl, and would have been prettier, Bobby Lee believed, if she would just let nature take its course. But, defying nature, she had dyed her hair, which was