Title: Tulsa Bill
By: greygoose70
Summary: The referee waved his right arm toward 'Handsome Rick' declaring him the winner. "Bullshit!" Tulsa Bill shouted. "Come on, you all saw me win that fair and square," he said facing the crowd that had gathered.
AN: Just something I came up with between my research breaks. Takes place in my "Rick Castle: Legend'' story. It was the one gunfight I never described in any detail. Hope you enjoy it.
It was a hot July day as Rick Castle rode into the small town of Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. He has been on the 'Trail of Tears' since early morning heading west towards Oneida Texas (later named Amarillo) to meet up with Terrance Sanborn his muse for the Joe Kidd, U.S. Marshal novels he pens. But Diablo is showing signs of getting tired, so he breaks off the trail at the first sign he sees indicating there is a town close.
The first structure Rick comes to is a livery stable. He dismounts leads the large Appaloosa to one of the watering troughs so he can drink. As he stood there talking to his faithful steed an elderly gentleman wandered out. "Can I help you mister," he asked?
"Yes" Rick replied. "You have a shady spot where Diablo here can rest, get out of this of sun, maybe give him something to eat and a rubdown?"
"Sure thing mister…"
"Rodgers, Robert Rodgers" Rick responded. He didn't want to use his real name, didn't want to cause any trouble if anyone here knew who he really is.
"Names Alfred Jones, folks just call me Jonesy, I own this place. How long you plan on being here?"
"Not sure maybe three or four hours. Would like to get a good meal, a cold beer or two, maybe find a poker game and finally a shave and bath."
"No problem; Rosie's Café is two doors down from the saloon. The food is good, and the saloon has the coldest beer around. You can get a shave and bath at Harold's Barber Shop just down the street. The poker game you'll have to find on your own."
"Thanks Jonesy."
"Go on now Mister Rodgers I'll take good care of your horse."
Rick turned looking to locate Rosie's Café seeing he didn't have to go far. Walking in he found an open table, removed his coat and sat down. Gazing around he saw a sign saying the special today was beef stew and biscuits. When he turned back he saw a short gray haired lady standing at his table. "Best this side of the Mississippi," she said.
"I take it you're talking about the beef stew," Rick retaliated.
"Yep, and the biscuits are fresh and warm."
"You talked me into it, the special it is, what do have cold to drink?"
"Water or iced tea although the tea is extra."
"I'll have the tea."
"Be right up" she said. "George, need an iced tea," Rick heard her say as she traipsed toward what he believed was the kitchen. Sure enough moments later she returned with a hot bowl of beef stew and a basket of warm biscuits.
Rick sopped up the last of the stew with what was also the last biscuit and leaned back in his chair. George was there in an instant to gather his bowl and basket. "will there be anything else sir," he asked.
"You have anything for dessert," Rick enquired.
"Rosie baked an apple pie earlier, I'll go see if there is any left."
"If there is bring me a slice and a cup of coffee."
"Yes sir," George replied. Upon his return he set a hot cup of coffee in front of Rick telling him the pie will be out momentarily, Rosie was heating it up for him.
After finishing the second best slice of apple pie he has ever had (it was hard to beat the apple pie Mother made) he finished off a second cup of coffee, paid for his meal, thanked Rosie and George for their hospitality and walked out in to the street and the blazing sun. Standing there contemplating his next course of action he began rubbing his chin. A shave that's what he needed. Spying Harold's Barber Shop directly on the other side of the street he moseyed on over.
Harold was not what Rick was expecting, he was young couldn't be but a couple years older than Rick himself. "Harold was my father," the man said looking up from the newspaper he was reading and seeing the confused look Rick was giving him. "I'm Phillip or just Phil, you are?"
"Robert Rodgers or just Rob."
"Well, what can I do for you today, Rob?"
"A shave now and a bath later."
"Very well, have a seat."
While sitting in the chair getting his shave Rob and Phil carried on a conversation covering several subjects. Phil was very inquisitive when discovering Rob was a writer. Rob discovered Phil was a dentist as well as a barber, took over his father's business following his passing of malaria two years ago but what interested Rob most was that as well as having a bathing tub Phil also had what is called an overhead shower worked off a hand pump.
"See you later for that shower" Rob said as he left heading for the saloon and a beer and maybe a poker game.
"Mind if I join you," Rick asked the group of three men engaged in a game of poker. You're not a card shark are you," one of them asked suspiciously.
"No, just looking for something to pass the time before heading out on the next leg on my journey."
"In that case have a seat," another of them said. "You have a name," the last of them enquired.
"Rob," he answered removing his coat and setting down in the empty chair asking what the rules are. After the others introduced themselves explained what few rules there were, the cards were dealt. After three rounds of which Rob won one Mark got up saying he needed another beer asking if any of the others wanted one. Carl and Tim told him they were good, but Rob accepted the offer.
Rob kept an eye on Mark as he went to get the drinks. He noticed the lengthy conversation Mark and the barkeep were having then saw the barkeep turn his head toward Rob with a surprising look. As Mark made his return Rob watched the barkeep bolted to the back room.
Rob was getting that funny feeling that Mark has recognized him as Rick Castle or at least thinks he has. Taking his watch from his vest pocket he checked the time, 3:30. Oh well, he thought, a couple more rounds and he'd call it quits, go take his shower then head out.
It was about thirty minutes later when the young man came rushing in spouting "where's he at!" The barkeep instantly pointing at the table where Rob occupied a seat. The young man straightened himself up and strolled to the table indicated, positioned himself so he stood across from where Rob sat. "Mister Castle," he said looking directly at Rob.
"No," Rob replied. He could tell this man was trouble. He was looking for a fight, something Rob/Rick wanted no part of. "My name is Robert Rodgers, I'm a writer."
By now Carl, Tim and Mark have removed themselves, have gone over to stand at the bar. The young man seeing the empty chairs took the one that faced Rob/Rick and sat down. "You may be Robert Rodgers to these folks, but my friend Mark over there (nodding toward the bar) recognized you. He saw you outdraw and kill Jim Courtright, told me you got him in the throat."
"So, Mister…"
"William Blakley, better known as 'Tulsa Bill'."
William 'Tulsa Bill' Blakley is part Creek Indian, part white man, part Black person. How did he come to be all these denominations" To know that we need to know his ancestral history?
Alabama, 1834: Under the 'Indian Removal Act' the Creek Indians (aka Muscogee Indians) were forcefully removed from their southeastern ancestral homeland and moved to an area west of the Mississippi designated "Indian Territory". To get there they had to traverse what has become to be known as the "Trail of Tears". So called due to those that had travelled it prior, many of whom perished along the way from exposure, disease or starvation while in route.
The Creek Indians were the third tribe to be relocated, the Choctaw being the first followed closely by the Seminoles. Each tribe was usually accompanied by a group of non-Native Americans many of them of African descent, most of them former slaves. The Creek Indians had such a group as well. Within that group was a light skinned negro woman, named Mavis (a former slave that was raped by Selocta, the tribal medicine man, who got her pregnant). She gave birth to an equally light skinned girl, named her Mara.
Mavis died a about year after the Creek founded their new community 'Rekackv' (pronounced: thlee-Kawtch-kuh, meaning broken arrow). Mara grew up into a beautiful woman, fell in love and married Charles Blakley owner of the general store in nearby Tulsa. A year later she gave birth to a son, named him William.
As Bill grew into a young man, he worked in his father's store…hated every minute of it. He wanted adventure so on his eighteenth birthday he packed a bag, bid farewell to his parents and left looking for that next exciting exploit…and he found it in a town named Fort Worth Texas in an area called 'The Acre'. The Acre was a section of town that was classified off-limits for proper citizens. Shootings, knifing, muggings and brawls were a nightly occurrence there. Cowboys were joined by a motley assortment of buffalo hunters, gunmen adventures and crooks.
One of those gunmen was Timothy 'Terrible Tim' Isaiah a man Bill got to know and ultimately befriended. One night after seeing Tim outgun another man Bill became obsessed with the speed and accuracy of Tim's action asked Tim if he would teach him. "I guess if you're going to be spending time here in The Acre you should be able to defend yourself," Tim told him.
The next day Bill showed up at Tim's door ready to get started. Tim pulled a gun and a holster rig from a trunk gave it to Bill telling him to put it on…that's when the teacher and student discovered their first problem. Bill is left-handed. It took a week for a local craftsman to make a suitable rig for Bill, one that placed the gun on his left side in the proper position for him to grab it naturally.
With everything in place Tim demonstrated the draw, hammer-cock, aim and shoot sequence, explaining to Bill that it isn't always speed that wins. For the next month Bill worked on his fluidity getting smoother and a little quicker each day. It was time for some 'live-fire' work. It took another month of work before he felt confident in his ability to become quick and accurate.
It was two weeks later that he proved just how quick and accurate he was. He had been called out for cheating in a poker game, an accusation he denied but when his accuser challenged him Bill had no choice but to accept.
Bill and accuser made their way out to the street with nearly all the patrons from the bar in tow. Bill and his opponent took their position. They stood there in silence each one's eyes fixated on the others gun-hand waiting to see movement. When it did happen it was impossible to tell exactly which one went for their gun first. What everyone observing did see was Bill's draw and shot beat that of the other man then the man falling to the ground. The evening festivities over everyone returned to the bar…everyone except Bill, he just stood there realizing what he had just done. Suddenly feeling a hand on his shoulder, a voice saying, "you okay," it was Tim.
"I just killed a man," was all Bill could say. "Yes, you did but from what I saw it was more a matter of self-defense," Tim replied. "Smitty there (nodding at the dead man lying in the dirty street) has a reputation for calling men out for cheating especially when he is losing then goading them into a gunfight. It was only a matter of time before he came up against someone better…tonight that was you. Now let's go in I'll buy you a beer." Since then, there has been four more such instances where Bill was forced to defend himself.
Local citizens became alarmed by the increased activities finally decided to do something about it and elected a city marshal, Charles E. Bassett.
Bassett was a former two term sheriff of Dodge City Kansas but was prohibited by the Kansas State Constitution from seeking a third consecutive term. The first thing he did after being sworn in was appoint two deputies one of them being Tim Isaiah the other being one of his deputies he brought with him from Dodge City, Bartholemew 'Bat' Masterson. His second act was to proclaim 'The Acre' as a gun-free zone. This second act upset Bill more so than having his good friend Tim sworn in as a deputy. He was not going to turn his gun over to anybody, so he made the decision to leave Fort Worth, go back home for a while.
Present day.
"So, William, it is your desire to see if you're faster than me. Tell me how many gunfights have you been a part of."
"Five and you can call me Bill."
"Anyone I might have heard of Bill."
"Probably not unless you've ever spent time in Fort Worth."
"Nope, can't say I've ever been there."
So far, the conversation between Handsome Rick and Tulsa Bill has been kept friendly. Rick was pretty sure though it won't stay that way. He needed to find a way to avoid a confrontation with Bill. He finally got it when Bill made the comment "afraid to test me Mr. Castle, afraid I just might be faster."
"There is always going to be someone faster Bill but there just may be a way we can find out which one of us is without either of us dying in the process."
"And how would we do that Rick." Castle went on to describe his idea for a test shootout and the philosophy behind it. If Bill won, he would have bragging rights to have beaten Handsome Rick Castle in a quick draw contest. If Rick won, then Tulsa Bill would still be alive. Believe it or not Bill liked the idea.
They decided to hold the contest in the corral behind Jonesy's place so that's where they headed closely followed by all those who were in the saloon including the barkeep. Reaching the corral Bill and Rick took their positions. Carl who was going to act as referee set an empty beer bottle on a fence post adjacent to each of them. That was to be their target. The signal to draw was to be a shot from Carl who has set himself far enough back so he could see both targets, thereby being able to declare a winner.
Rick stood erect as he faced Bill. Went through his usual routine of rolling his shoulders then shaking out his arms, things Montgomery taught him to help relieve any tension. All the while he never took his eyes off Bill who appeared to be in some sort of crotched position his gun arm bent at the elbow. It was a stance Rick could never remember seeing from any of the other men he has faced.
"Ready," Carl spoke then getting a nod from each man indicating they were. The tension increased as Carl waited a few seconds before firing. There was little doubt that there were three gunshots, the two following Carl's being so close together almost sounded like one. Tulsa Bill let out a yell believing he had won but when Carl waved his right arm toward 'Handsome Rick' declaring him the winner he shouted "Bullshit! Come on, you all saw me win that fair and square," he said facing the crowd that was gathered there a couple nodding yes while the rest did nothing.
"Why don't we do it for real! Bill shouted turning to see Rick heading to retrieve his coat. "Bill, don't," Carl said hoping to stop him from doing something stupid. "No Carl, Let's see what the great Handsome Rick Castle can do when facing a real man."
Rick stopped. He knew this was going to happen. Bill just couldn't take the idea of losing. He had almost toyed with the idea of letting Bill win the test however his own pride won out the instant Carl fired the shot for them to draw. "Whenever you're ready," he said spinning back to face Bill.
"Yeah," Bill acknowledged going into his weird stance.
"Castle," Carl spoke, saw him give a "ready" nod back. "Bill," he said.
"Ready," he responded.
Carl unholstered his gun pointed it straight up in the air and waited. He took one last glance at each man and fired. There wasn't three shots this time, just two, the second coming instantly on top of the first. All eyes went toward Rick saw him give his gun a couple of twirls then slide it with ease into his holster then turn and walk away. Heads then shifted to Bill saw him with his right hand on his chest, his eyes wide a look of shock in them. They watched as he fell to his knees then drop to the dirt.
Rick retrieved his coat from the fence and exited the corral then headed to Jonesy's stable. He located Diablo, saddled him up climbed on and road out of town. His need for a shower or bath would just have to wait.
THE END