Halfway down the main drag, Gunther caught up with his now ex-boss. Slade was on fire and making a beeline for the Bonnie Lass, outside of which Blythe and his new gaggle of employees were congregating.
“God damn it son, will you hold up?”
Slade kept walking.
“You think you could have run that stunt you pulled back there by me first?” Gunther asked.
“I’ve had this job before you were even born and now I gotta up and leave it because of some slick sleazy lawyer?”
“No one asked you to,” Slade replied.
“Shit boy,” Gunther said. “Forty years I’ve never not once had a Marshal’s back and I’m not about to start now. Do you at least got some sort of plan?”
As Slade drew near, Jack rubbed his eyes and cried some crocodile tears. “Boo hoo hoo those poor Injuns!!!”
WAM! Slade’s right cross knocked out three of Jack’s teeth. And he needed those. He didn’t have many left to begin with.
Like clockwork, Hewett and Becker had their guns drawn and trained on Slade. The Buchanan Boys had yet to have their hardware returned to them, but they didn’t take kindly to seeing their favorite brother-cousin decked and looked ready to tear Slade apart.
“That was a horrible plan,” Gunther said.
Blythe raised a hand. “Gentlemen! Gentlemen, simmer down now. As our dear Lord and Savior Jesus Christ once said, ‘If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.”
Jack wasn’t interested in a scripture lesson. “YOU’RE A DEAD MAN SLADE!”
The counselor stepped in front of the former Marshal and flashed his red eyes Jack’s way.
“Mr. Slade is lucky you’re a good Christian, Mr. Buchanan. You won’t stoop to his level. It’s time for you and your family to celebrate.”
Jack shook to and fro like he was dizzy. He caught his bearings and pointed at Slade. “Shit Slade, if I weren’t a good Christian, I would bust you up!”
That reaction met with loud cries of disappointment from the various and sundry Buchanans. Jack quelled all dissent by yelling, “Come on, boys! Let’s get f$%ked up!”
They filed into the saloon. Miss Bonnie’s protest could be heard on the street.
Blythe turned around. “Mr. Slade. We’ve got off on the wrong foot.”
“F$%k you,” was all Slade had to say to that.
“Gentlemen,” Blythe said to Hewett and Becker, a cue for them to holster their steel. “Mr. Slade, I surely hope you won’t take this personally. Business is business and I am but a cog in the great machine that is the Legion Corporation. My superiors tell me to acquire the services of brutish men and I have no choice but to abide.”
“I’ll bring every last one of you down,” Slade said.
Blythe gave Slade a glimpse of his red peepers. “This matter no longer interests you. You’ll never give it a second thought.”
Like a confused puppy dog, Slade cocked his head to one side. “What…are you?”
The counselor was taken aback. His eyes returned to normal. “Goodness me. I could ask you the same question.”
Blythe and his bodyguards headed through the double doors.
“You know,” Gunther said. “I could use a drink myself.”