Sheriff McMahon-Part Five
Shane turned around slowly, his arms raised, to look at the man behind him, barely believing what he was seeing.
"Johnson? What…?"
The hunter smiled. "Surprised, Sheriff?"
"Dwayne, what are you doing?" Shane asked, his voice barely above a whisper. This couldn't be happening…
"Let's just say I had a better offer than you could ever give me," the hunter said with a smirk.
"Money? Is that what this is about?"
"Of course. And getting one over on Austin after years of him holding me back."
Joanna gasped behind Shane, and he moved to stand between her and the hunter.
"Oh yes, the sister. We have plans for you too."
"You son of a bitch," Shane spat the words at the hunter. "You touch her and I'll kill you."
"Now now, Sheriff. Don't let heroics stand in the way of your good sense. I'm the one with the gun remember! So let's not have any stupidity. You're coming with me, either alive or dead. Choose."
"Alright, I'll come with you. But Joanna is staying here.."
"Sorry Sheriff, no can do."
"Why, Dwayne? Why are you doing this?" Shane asked desperately. He stopped as he felt a small prod from Joanna in his lower back. He started talking again, as he slowly, slowly moved one hand behind his back to take whatever it was she was handing him.
"Dwayne you don't have to do this."
"Oh, that's what I always admired about you Shane. You have your father's sense of decency. Or at least, you have Robert McMahon's sense of decency."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I think you know Shane. It's been nagging at you all night hasn't it? You want to know why Vince thinks he's your father."
"Vince? You mean…"
"That's right. Vince McMahon. Robert McMahon's brother."
Shane felt Joanna press the gun into his hand – and let go. She prodded him in the back insistently, but he ignored it.
"No. My father's brother died a long time ago, even before I was born."
"Ooh, so close. But not quite Shane. The only way you'll ever find out is if you come to Vince now. Or maybe I should just kill you…" The hunter smiled thoughtfully, and raised the gun, pointing directly at Shane's head.
"No! No…I'll come with you." The hunter smiled and lowered the gun a fraction.
"Shane! What are you doing?" Joanna whispered in his ear.
"I need to know, Joanna. I'm sorry."
Johnson gestured with his gun for them to get walking. Joanna and Shane stepped out of the room into the corridor, and the hunter closed the door, smirking one last time at the lifeless figure on the bed.
* * *
The hunter marched them down the street towards the outskirts of the town. An old warehouse stood apart from the others, long since abandoned after a fire a few years ago. A fire that Shane himself had helped put out, while standing alongside his so called friend, Dwayne Johnson. As if reading his mind, Johnson said, "Yep, that fire was one son of a bitch, wasn't it, Shane?"
Shane ignored the hunter. He was in no mood for small talk. Joanna walked beside him, her face a mask. He wished he could read her thoughts. Did she hate him for what he was doing? He pushed that thought aside; he needed to know what all this was about. His father,
(Was he? Was he my father?)
Robert had told him of his brother's death. One day while Vince was away, bandits attacked his house. Although his wife had put up a spirited defence, the outlaws had eventually gotten into the house, robbing it and killing her. Vince, unable to live with the guilt of not being there to save his beloved wife, had flung himself over a ravine. But the body had never been found, and a memorial plaque stood where his grave should have been, next to that of his wife. Shane recalled asking his fath… Robert if Vince had had any children.
"No son. They never had that chance." He had replied, patting Shane on the head.
They never had that chance.
"What was that, Sheriff?" asked the hunter, and Shane realised he must have spoken aloud.
Shane glared at his former friend. "You are not going to get away with this, Dwayne."
"Oh really? Who is going to stop us? Your faithful deputy? I think not," the hunter replied with an evil laugh. Shane looked at him in horror. He had completely forgotten about Michaels.
"Oh don't worry, Sheriff, your deputy is quite safe. He's still sat by Austin's bedside – well, lying by it anyway."
"What did you do to him, you bastard!" Shane snarled.
The hunter merely laughed. "Nothing he won't recover from. You on the other hand – I'm afraid, you might not be so lucky."
"And my brother?" Joanna said in a choked voice.
"Still unconscious; I thought about putting the bastard out of his misery. But I figured I'd let him suffer a little longer." The hunter laughed at the look of pure hatred on her face.
Joanna turned away, and continued walking, with Shane beside her. The hunter sauntered behind them.
"He'll be alright, Jo," Shane said, taking her hand. She turned to him, and smiled, a glint in her eyes that was almost a feverish madness.
"He'll come anyway." She said. "As soon as he realises, he'll come. I know he will."
* * *
Vince sat in the barn, waiting. He had been waiting for so long, and now he would finally reveal himself to his son…his only son. Shane had only been a baby when he had handed him over to his brother…too young for him to remember. Maybe it had been for the best…but now it was time for him to know the truth.
Vince stood up as the barn door opened. He was slightly surprised to see the woman with him, but knew instantly who she was. Calloway had been tracking her for some time, meaning to use her for his revenge against Austin. Vince repressed a chuckle – the monster had almost made it. No matter, Vince told himself; he'd make sure the hunter was dead before nightfall. He looked up at the smug grin on Johnson's face as he shoved Shane forwards. Make that both hunters.
"Get out of here, Johnson." The hunter raised a single eyebrow in protest.
"Make sure your face is seen around town, I need you legal for a while yet." The only indication of the hunter's irritation was the slam of the barn door as he left. Vince sighed, and rubbed his brow wearily.
"What do you want with me?"
Vince looked up into the face of his son. Shane's eyes were blazing with a fire Vince knew only too well. The thought made him smile.
"You are my son."
"And?"
Shane's reply surprised Vince. "Ah, so you accept it now?"
Shane shrugged. "Doesn't make any difference to me."
Vince laughed, a harsh cackle that made Shane cringe inside. "Oh really. And why is that?"
Quick as a flash, Shane brought out the gun from where Joanna had hidden it in the back of his belt and had it aimed at Vince's head in a matter of seconds. "Because either way, my father or not, you are under arrest you son of a bitch."
* * *
The deputy opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. The room span above him, and a multitude of colours washed in front of his eyes. He sat up slowly and gingerly felt the large lump on the back of his head. A blinding headache pounded through his head and he had to fight against the pain to think straight.
"Johnson."
Shawn turned his head towards the sound of the voice, wincing at the pain the sudden movement caused in his head. The icy blue eyes that stared back at him from the cot brought back the memories of the last couple of days.
"No, Steve, it's me. It's Shawn. You're gonna be ok."
"No, you stupid son of a bitch," replied Austin with effort, the pain etched on his face.
Shawn smiled despite the insult; it was amazing how Austin could be in so much pain and still manage to be offensive.
"It was Johnson,"
The deputy stood up rather unsteadily, rubbing the back of his head. "What was?"
* * *
The hunter scowled at the morning sun. He'd played his part perfectly, and still Vince treated him like shit.
"Leave him alone with his precious son," Johnson muttered to himself. "Why'd he even want that little maggot anyway?"
He'd wandered around for a good ten minutes now, and he was getting sick of it. No one was around anyway; even the goddamn saloons were closed.
"No rest for the wicked," he said, and grinned despite his annoyance. He had to admit; the plan had been a damn good one. Vince was a genius. What better way to catch Shane off guard? Kill the bad guy to stop him worrying about his precious town, and injure his friend, the courageous hunter, to keep him off the scent of the real bad guy. Johnson laughed out loud as he conjured up the image of Shane realising he'd been duped.
"Sure shocked the hell out of you, didn't I Shane-O?"
The hunter looked up at the sun. After a quick glance at his watch, he turned around and began pacing up the main street once again.
* * *
Joanna watched the two men stare at each other, her eyes darting from one to the other.
"Shane, we have to get out of here before he comes back," she said anxiously, looking towards the door.
"No. Not until this bastard explains a few things," the sheriff replied, never taking his eyes from Vince.
"There is nothing to explain." Vince replied calmly.
"The hell there isn't!"
Joanna looked at the door once more, certain the hunter was going to come back any second.
"Shane, please, we have to go!"
The sheriff ignored her. "All my life I have been Robert McMahon's son. Why?" he asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.
"My brother took you away from me while you were still a child, Shane. It's all his fault." Vince replied calmly. Shane stared at him, refusing to accept this new knowledge. Every inch of him shook with anger.
"Even if that is true, then he must have had good reason for it," Shane said. "He knew, just as I do now, that you are an evil, worthless son of a bitch. And you're going to jail."
Vince sighed mockingly. Looking down at his feet, he shook his head, and laughed. As he raised his eyes back to Shane, the sheriff could see the glint of anger and madness behind them.
"I see Robert has brought you up to trust in the virtues of law and order, just as he did." Vince relied, still laughing. "You worthless fool. I should have known." The smile left the madman's lips. "But I thought I could make you see the value of lawlessness. Make you realise that it is people like me who run this world, not you."
Never taking his eyes from Vince, Shane reached to his belt and removed the handcuffs. "Joanna can you shoot?" he said.
"Damn right," she replied, her voice now showing none of the fear she'd felt earlier; her anxiety over her brother had turned to anger. "I was taught by the best hunter in the world," she said defiantly, staring at Vince.
Passing her the gun, Shane moved slowly towards Vince.
"Alright you bastard, put your hands behind your back."
"Shane, you won't win this way. You'll have to kill me." Vince declared, grinning at the sheriff.
"Yeah? Tell that to the judge."
* * *
Johnson paced down the main street, humming quietly to himself, mulling over what he would do with all the money he had coming to him. Taking off his hat, he dusted it off and looked up at the sun, which was rising high into the morning sky. Holding it up in front of him to shade his eyes, the hunter looked towards the end of town and the hills beyond, looking for the telltale rising dust that would signal a horse or stagecoach arriving into town; he didn't really think anyone would turn up at this ungodly hour, but it was best to be sure.
"Yep, that's why I'm the best," he said to himself, and laughed. As he stood laughing in the middle of the street, he heard a shot rang out from behind him. His hat was blown from his hand and fell to the floor ten feet away. He watched it roll away in the morning breeze, half in tatters from the force of the bullet, and felt the colour drain from his face, just as the smile fell from his lips. Only one person he knew could have made that shot on purpose.
"I'd never shoot you in the back, Johnson," came a voice from behind him. "And you always did have god awful taste in headwear." Ever so slowly, Johnson turned to face the figure behind him, his hands poised at his waist. Austin stood in the middle of the street, hands at his sides, the pain of standing upright adding a grim look to his weather face. To Johnson it was like looking into the face of death itself.
"Alright you bald headed bastard," Johnson snarled, the anger and fear contorting his usually handsome features into a mask of evil. "Let's see how good you really are."
The two hunters stood facing each other for what seemed to both like an age, each waiting for the other to give a sign of being about to draw.
The wind picked up, blowing the dust of the street into whirlwinds of activity.
Somewhere at the back of town, a cock crowed, a high pitched squeal that sounded like a creature in anguish. Johnson jumped at the sudden noise in the otherwise silent street. So quick it was almost impossible to see, Austin drew his gun, barely raising it from his hip, and fired three times before Johnson even had time to draw. Falling to his knees, the hunter looked down at his wounds in amazement. Blood poured from the three holes in his chest and from his mouth.
Austin staggered forward to where his nemesis had fallen, and looked down.
"You were good kid." He said to the dying hunter. "Just not good enough, is all." Without waiting for a reply, he fired once more, shooting Johnson in the dead centre of his forehead. A sense of loss filled Austin as he fell to one knee, unable to support himself any longer.
"I wanted you to fill my shoes, kid. I wanted you to be the best."
* * *
Shane heard the gun shots and flinched. It was all the distraction Vince needed. The knife appeared seemingly from nowhere as he brought it up to Shane's neck. The sheriff stood stock still as Vince circled him, keeping the knife to his son's neck, watching the gun that Joanne still held pointed at him.
"Are you sure you're that good, sweetheart?" Vince said, smiling as he stood behind Shane. "Go ahead, take a shot."
Joanna stood, both hands holding the gun in an attempt to steady it at Vince. Tears coursed down her face unnoticed.
"Let him go," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"No, I don't think I will." Vince relied, the sarcasm plain in his tone. "And what are you going to do if I don't? Shoot me?"
"If I have to."
"Joanna, go. Save yourself." Shane said calmly, despite the cold blade pressed tight against his throat, so tight that he could already feel little trickles of blood mingling with the sweat on his neck, and pouring down his chest.
"Oh! Such heroics, such bravery!" Vince said mockingly. "What should the heroine do? Run to fight another day? Or risk shooting her beloved to get the bad guy?"
Joanna looked from Vince to Shane; the sheriffs eyes pleading with her to go, Vince's mockingly asking her to stay. Her conscience would not let her leave Shane alone, and although she'd made harder shots before, she knew that Vince could slit Shane's throat even if she did hit the madman.
Seeing her indecision, Vince laughed. "Or maybe she should just stand there and whimper?" Vince whispered into Shane's ear. He looked back at Joanna, and frowned as he saw her expression change. She smiled at him, squared her shoulders, and cocked the gun.
"How about I just stand here and watch you die?" she said, and squeezed the trigger of the gun. For a moment after the shot rang out, the three of them stood breathless. Slowly Vince lowered the knife and laughed. Stepping back from Shane he looked down at the spreading blood in the middle of his chest. Before he fell, he looked up at Joanna in awe.
Shane stood staring at his father, his real father, for awhile, trying to comprehend what had just happened; it appeared the bullet that Jo had fired had gone right through him into Vince. He was about to search his own chest for a wound when he saw the figure standing behind Vince at the other end of the barn.
Shawn stood, still holding his smoking gun with both hands, behind Vince's prone figure.
"Told ya I could shoot," he said, his voice shaking.
"That you can, Michaels, " said Shane, smiling weakly. "That you can."
* * *
The knock at the door was not totally unexpected, but Shane was still surprised when he saw who it was.
"Dr.Rowe? What is it? Is Austin alright?"
The doctor nodded as he shut the door behind him. "Yes, I think your friend is going to be just fine. He's a fighter. But that's not what I came here for," he said, and held out an envelope.
Shane took the letter from the doctor; it was addressed to him, in his father, or rather Robert McMahon's handwriting.
"Robert asked me to give this to you at the right time," said the doctor. "I guess this is as good a time as any."
Shane didn't even notice the doctor leave as he ripped open the letter and began to read.
Shane,
You may receive this letter many years after my death; it is my hope that it will come to you at a time of peace; although if the good doctor has sent this letter on to you, the chance is that you already know much of the truth.
Vincent McMahon, my brother, was a good man. He and your mother spent many happy years together, running a farm just outside of Deadwood. When his wife, Mary, was killed by bandits as she travelled away from town, the grief he felt after her death sent him half mad. He spent much of his time trying to avenge her death, travelling to the nearby towns, looking for her murderers. After some time, he became unable to distinguish between those who were guilty and those who were not; driven by his despair over being unable to avenge your mother's death. He became a ruthless killer, ranging the west, until he was hunted himself and forced to disappear. I took you under my roof as my own son, hoping to raise you well, away from the unlawfulness that was to be your legacy. Your father once blamed me for taking away what was left of his family; please forgive me and understand I just wanted the best for you.
Robert.
Shane's tears dripped onto the old paper, but he did not feel them. All he could think of was his father, his real father; driven by grief to destroy all good he held inside him. The sheriff stepped outside onto his small porch, and looked down the main street of Deadwood.
What was he to do now? His father was dead and buried, and one of his best friends had turned on him for money, and had been killed. Leaning his hands on the railing, his tears fell uninhibited to the ground, turning the dust a dark rusty colour. Where was he supposed to go from here?
A rustling noise behind him made him turn suddenly, drawing his gun. There in front of his house, stood Joanna, her eyes sparkling in the starlight.
"Hey there," she said uncertainly.
"How's Steve?" Shane asked, trying to hold back his tears.
"He's ok; he's going to pull through," she said, moving towards him. As she reached out to him, taking Shane into her arms, he collapsed against her, sobbing onto her shoulder, letting go of his responsibility, holding her as tightly as he could.
Looking up at Joanna with weary tear stained eyes, he said, "Here. Right here is where I belong."
"Yes. You're needed here." She replied, stroking his hair.
"But I can't do it alone," the sheriff said, smiling up at her.
"You won't have to."
THE END
