Lily Belle and the Pistoleer
by Steve Myers

Gil and I were headed to southern California. We didn't feel like spending another winter freezing in a line shack and Gil's older brother Henry wrote that he'd found the land of milk and dark-eyed honeys. That was enough to put us on the trail.

In Carson City we heard about a redhead honey named Lily Belle Walker who ran a saloon in a place called Felicity, where there were gold and silver mines. So, since it was on the way, we decided to take a look.

We got there around noon. The town was lined up on both sides of the road with nothing much behind the few buildings except for some sheds and a corral for the stage horses. Most of the places had wood sides and canvas roofs, even the blacksmith's. He had his forge outside and he was forming a set of horse shoes, his hammer ringing on the anvil, as we rode by. There were men walking around, some with whiskey bottles in their hands, and wagons parked by a two story building with the sign "All U Want Food, Wisky, Wimmen." Then there was a low building with wood coffins displayed on both sides of the door and, next to it, the marshal's office. At the far end of town there stood a new two story building with a wide porch, two big double doors now opened, and swinging doors in the opening. A large sign on the top of the porch read: "The Lily Belle."

Gil said, "I figure that's where she be."

"Most likely."

"Well, if she's all they say she is, I better put something solid in my gut before I take her on."

I pointed to the "All U Want Food" building and we rode over, tied up our horses, and went in. There was a bar at the far end and two ladies past their prime drinking with four miners. Of the five tables in the front, the one by the window had two empty places. The two men there were dressed in sack suits and clean shaven, unlike the other customers who were bearded and dirty miners or prospectors.

We went over to the table and I asked, "Would you two gents mind sharing your table?"

Gil said, "We don't bite . . . unless you're a steak."

One man stood up and said, "I'm leaving anyway. Slim here won't mind."

Slim nodded and said, "Sure, men, have a seat. I'll catch you later, Foster."

The waiter came over and we ordered steaks and he brought a pot of coffee.

Slim asked, "I can see you two aren't from around here. Come to hunt for gold?"

"No," I said, "we're on our way to California."

Gil said, "We just stopped here to see if all we heard was true about a lady in this town."

Slim smiled. "You have to mean Lily Belle Walker. I have to agree she's worth seeing."

"I'd like to know if the lady's available or is she locked up, somebody's woman?"

"She's not exactly available, if you know what I mean, but nobody's got her locked up . . . not yet. She used to be Sam Stone's woman."

"Sudden Sam Stone?" I asked. "The Sam Stone that killed twenty men?"

"The same. Stone built that saloon for her and he left her a ranch too. But you don't need to worry about him. It'll be three years now that Stone got shot in the back."

"What happened to the man that shot Stone?"

"He dropped the body off at the undertakers and rode out of town. Before he shot Stone he'd gone into The Lily Belle and shot Stone's partner. Nobody had a mind to mess with him, and we didn't have any law back then."

"Three years is a long dry spell," Gil said. "I'm thinking she might need some comfort of a night."

"A lot of men have thought the same, but with no result. Only man she'll sit and drink with is the marshal and that's all they do. Of course, he's married. Still, that wouldn't stop most men, but Ed Morgan is as straight as they come."

Our steaks showed and we concentrated on cutting them into pieces you could swallow because there was no way you could chew that meat.

"The strange part of it all is people say Lily knew the shooter, that he was the man she really loved, and she's still hoping he'll come back for her."

Suddenly Slim jumped up and looked out the window. Three men were riding by. He yelled to the waiter: "Tom, send a boy for the marshal. One of those riders is Clay Barnes."

A man from a table next to us asked, "You sure?"

Slim said, "It's him all right. Tom, send a boy."

"What the hell would Clay Barnes be doing here?"

"Who knows? But the marshal has to know. It could be over that ruckus last month."

Gil asked, "Who's this Barnes character?"

"He's a pistoleer. He makes his living killing. He was in that little war around Fort Worth, then down there in New Mexico, in Colfax County. He gets around. I saw him shoot three men in Dallas and walk away cold as could be."

A man at one of the tables said, "They say he's the one shot 'Bear River' Smith in Abilene."

Someone else said, "He's a mean son of a bitch, I'll tell you that."

Tom, the waiter, came over. "I sent Pintsize to the marshal's office. Do you think it's about that trouble?"

Slim nodded. "Most likely."

"What trouble?" Gil asked.

"About six weeks ago four drovers come through here and stopped to party some. All that's fine, but they went too far. There was one, a young man whose father runs the Double C ranch and cattle company, and he was the worst. He got drunk and started shooting up The Lily Belle. One of his bullets hit a bartender. The marshal and his deputy came, took their guns, and busted a few heads and chased them out of town. In the fight, the marshal broke the young man's jaw and dislocated his arm. That arm hung there like a wet rag."

Just then the man Foster came back. He said, "Slim, Clay Barnes is here."

"I saw him. Tom sent Pintsize to warn Ed."

"Ed ain't here. He took his boy fishing. They passed me this morning when I was coming in. He said they were going to make a day of it."

"His wife with him?"

"No. She's staying close to home now with her ma so bad off."

Tom said, "Maybe we should send somebody out after him."

"Why?" Foster asked.

"Because he needs to know about Barnes."

"No, he doesn't. Let him have a good day with his son. There won't be anymore of them."

The boy Pintsize came from the kitchen and tugged on Tom's apron.

"What is it, boy?"

"The marshal ain't there. I told the deputy. When I left those three stopped in front of the office."

Gil grabbed me and said, "I got to see this. I never saw a real shootout." He went out the door and I followed.

The marshal's office was just down the street from us and we had a good look at Barnes and his men. Barnes was tall and lean, his face hard and shadowed by the wide brim of his hat. He wore a fancy black shirt and black trousers and shiny boots. His horse was black and as fine a gelding as I'd ever seen and I'd run horses since I was ten. The two men with him were grubby in worn clothes and unwashed faces.

Barnes called: "Hey in there! Marshal, come on out and go to meet your Maker."

The door opened and a man, wearing a deputy badge and carrying a Winchester, stepped out. "The Marshal's not here. He won't be back till evening."

"That's a damn shame, deputy. I come all this way to see the marshal and he ain't here. Guess I'll have to wait. I hear he has a pretty little wife. Maybe I should visit her for a spell while I wait and she can keep me company."

"I think the best thing for you is to turn around and ride off."

"Now, deputy, I know you ain't ordering me out of town. I don't think that's even half way polite."

The deputy worked the lever to put a round in the chamber, but before he brought the rifle to his shoulder Barnes's cocked Colt cleared the holster. A blast of flame and smoke and the deputy dropped his rifle, grabbed his chest, and fell back into the office. Barnes looked our way, paused, and then put his pistol back in the holster.

The three rode by us slowly. They went up the street and stopped in front of The Lily Belle, got off their horses, and went inside — Barnes strutting across the porch like the cock of the walk.

Foster, Slim, and two other men came out and ran down to the marshal's office. I saw the undertaker come out of his place and join the others.

Gil said, "I don't think I much like that Barnes character. What about you?"

"Well, he's somebody to stay clear of," I said.

"You know, I think we should do something about him. I mean, he didn't give that deputy much of a chance. I wouldn't call that a fair fight at all."

"You're not thinking of going up against him, are you?"

"Somebody should."

"Gil, you can't shoot worth a damn. You're worse than me with that pistol."

"I got a Winchester."

"So did the deputy."

"I get your point." He thought a spell, then: "Let's pay our feed bill and then drift down to The Lily Belle for a drink and a look-see. I'm not leaving town without I see that redhead."

The Lily Belle must have a back door because when we went in the only people there were two bartenders, a drunk passed out on the floor in the back by the dice table, and Barnes with his two men standing at the bar drinking whiskey. There was a balcony across the back wall with steps at the far right. I could see the doors to four rooms off the balcony. I figured that's where the customers took the fancy ladies, when there were ladies.

We went up to the near end of the bar and ordered two beers.

Barnes called to us: "Hell with beer, boys, join us and drink a man's drink." He came to us with a bottle of whiskey. "Bartender, two glasses for these boys."

The bartender set us glasses and Barnes poured them overflowing. "Drink it down, boys. Unless you don't feel friendly enough to drink with me."

Gil and I downed the shots and he poured us two more.

"I seen you two watching me out there. Why was that?"

Gil said, "I never saw a shootout before. I was curious."

"Well, boys, that sure warn't much of a shootout. Hell, it was just a dumb deputy. I shoot deputies for free. Marshals is where I make my money. I expect to make five hundred this evening. Hey, Frank, Pete come down here and meet the boys. They was curious. They're just two curious boys."

The two men came down to our end of the bar and got on the other side of us so we were boxed in. Barnes poured us two more drinks and then poured himself and his men drinks. "Bottoms up, boys."

We all drank.

"So you never saw a shooting before? Well, stick around and you'll see another. I see you carry pistols. What do you do with them . . . wipe your ass?"

Pete and Frank laughed.

"Well?" Barnes asked.

"They're for snakes and rats and such," Gil said.

"Hear that, Pete? That's what the boys do with their pistols. What do you think?"

Pete, the man behind Gil, said, "I think you're right, Clay, they use them to wipe their ass. I think they should show us how."

Frank said, "Maybe they should drop their trousers."

Barnes said, "All right, boys, put your pistols up on the bar. Now!"

I laid mine on the bar but Gil held back.

Pete poked Gil in the back and Barnes had his Colt out and stuck it in Gil's face. Gil slowly put his revolver on the bar.

"Good boys," Barnes said. "You two are good boys." He holstered the Colt.

Just then Frank said, "What the hell is that?"

We all looked over at the balcony and coming down the stairs was a redhead in a bright green gown that was cut so low it barely covered her breasts. She seemed to glide down in an easy flowing motion. She walked slowly across the saloon and stopped in front of Barnes. She was something: red hair, shining gray eyes, white skin, bright red lips, and perfect teeth when she smiled.

"Hello, boys," she said. "May I share a drink with you?"

Barnes smiled to her smile and said, "You can share all I have and then some."

"Have I the pleasure to be talking to the notorious Clay Barnes?"

"You sure have. Are you the famous Lily Belle?"

"I am Lily Belle Walker."

"The Lily Belle that was Sam Stone's whore?"

For a second something flashed across her face but she smiled. "I was Sam's woman."

"Whose woman are you now?"

"The man man enough to take me."

Barnes downed his drink and threw the glass across the saloon. "Lily, you found your man."

"You think you carry enough pistol to satisfy me?"

Barnes laughed. "Lady, you'll get more pistol than you ever dreamed of."

"Is that all talk . . . or is there some action behind it?"

Barnes grabbed her arm and said, "Well, let me show you right now. Pete, Frank, you two wait here with these little boys. Me and the lady are about to have another kind of shootout."

Frank and Pete laughed and Barnes held Lily's arm as she led him across the saloon and up the stairs. They crossed the balcony and entered one of the rooms.

"I tell you," Pete said, "I wish I was that lucky."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," Frank said. "Clay always gets the women."

"I guess so. Now, what're we going to do with these little boys?"

Gil grabbed his gun off the bar, spun around, and cracked Pete over the head with the barrel. I stuck both my thumbs into Frank's eyes and then hit him as low as I could. He groaned and went down. Gil kicked him hard in the side of the head and he was out.

Gil said, "Go git our Winchesters and when the son of a bitch comes out we'll cut him down."

Both bartenders pulled up scatter guns and one said, "We'll help."

I ran out to the horses and came back with our rifles. Gil had taken the pistols and gun belts from Pete and Frank and now he was removing their trousers. The two were out cold on the floor and laying there in their dirty yellow-stained drawers.

Then we heard the shot. We all looked up at the balcony. Another shot sounded from up there. Gil and me worked rounds into our Winchesters. I raised mine to my shoulder. We waited.

A door opened and Lily Belle came out. She carried a Colt in her right hand as she slowly walked down the stairs. She crossed the saloon, came up to the bar, and set the pistol down next to the whiskey bottle Barnes had been holding.

She said to the bartender: "Get Bill or someone to clear that body out of the upstairs room. Put him in a hole somewhere out back. Don't bother with a marker." She poured herself a shot of whiskey, drank it straight down, and said, "Sam always said the best time to shoot a man is when he has his pants down."

The bartender asked, "What do you want to do with those two on the floor?"

"Tie them up until the marshal gets here. I suppose they'll be hanged if Charlie died." She turned to me and Gil: "Sorry about the trouble, boys. I see you did all right."

"No trouble, Lily," Gil said. "Would you have a drink with us?"

"I don't really like whiskey. I needed that drink, but my preference was always champagne. Now you two have whatever you want . . . on the house, on me."

"What if it's you I want?"

She laughed and reached out to touch Gil on the shoulder.

"I don't know if I'm man enough, but I sure would like to try," he said.

She stood there looking at him and considered it. She sort of cocked her head and smiled. "What about your friend?"

I said, "I'm in no hurry to get to California."

She laughed hard at that.

"Is that where you two are going?"

"Yes," I said.

"I'm half tempted to go with you."

The bartenders dragged Pete and Frank into the back. Two men carried a body wrapped in a carpet down the stairs and out the back.

"I wish you would," Gil said.

"No, too late to begin again. Anyway, you two . . .  I don't know why, but I must be getting soft hearted." She touched Gil again, touched him lightly on his cheek and smiled. "And you remind me of a man I once knew. So, all right, before you begin your journey, one at a time. Who's first?"

"Me," Gil said.

She laughed again, an easy rich full-throated laugh. "You are desperate, aren't you?"

She winked at me and took Gil's arm and led him upstairs.