Jake The Finisher and Mild Bill

“I’ll just take what’s mine and be on my way,” said the voice from under the black Stetson. He tipped his hat rim up to reveal the infamous white patch that covered the left eye of Jake The Finisher. He got that name because he had finished off every town he had terrorized this side of the Lakota Pass. Only one person knew what was under that patch and it wasn’t Jake. Now, you can believe that if you want to or not. Most folks believed that it was his mama who knew, but she played mute and nobody could get her to talk. Rumor has it that he still has the eye, but is embarrassed by it because the lid has one more wrinkle than the other lid. But, if Jake’s mama never talks, we’ll never know.

“But that’s the last of the town’s food and nary a crumb is actually yours, Mr. Jake.” The grocer was old and not afraid to speak his mind considering he had no fear of the afterlife. “How do you expect us to survive?”

Jake leaned forward on the handles of his mama’s wheelchair and looked dead into one of the grocer’s eye…his left one…and said, “I guess you gonna have to eat the slow fat folks first.”

The whole town, minus one, gasped.

They had gathered in the general store when the call went out that Jake the Finisher had been spotted riding into town pulling his mama behind him and his trusty horse, Future Glue. The only town member not present that day was the town’s only coffin maker. “Somebody run and get Bill!” said the grocer. Two boys took off running out of the store toward Bill’s shop.

***

Dust filled the shop, but not dust from coffin making…just dust. Bill had a hard time making a living in a town that size and had resorted to doing odd jobs like trough cleaning and whitewashing. He hadn’t made a coffin in nearly six weeks. People weren’t dying like they used to when times were good. Bill heard some commotion coming to his door and immediately the two town boys busted through the double doors that Bill had crafted out of desert ironwood. “Mr. Bill! Mr. Bill! Come quick!” yelled the boys in unison.

“Woah, woah, woah, boys,” said Bill in a calm tone. “Don’t you know that doors are my pride and joy? Did I ever tell you about the year I spent cutting down that stand of ironwood?” He continued without hesitation. “It was the hottest year on record.”

The oldest boy interrupted. “Yes sir, you told everybody the story at the talent show three years ago in the opera house…well the old opera house…you know, the house of ill repute.”

The younger boy cut in. “Anyway, sir, the town needs you at the general store right fast and in a hurry!”

“Well, I’m sort of in the middle of somethin’. Can it wait?”

“No sir!” they both said. “It’s Jake the Finisher!” The older boy continued. “He says he wants what’s his and you know what that means!”

Bill leaned back in his chair and propped his boots on the table he had cut out of a single sequoia back when he was a logger in the Sierra Nevadas. “And what’s that got to do with me?”

“Everybody knows you’re the only one that can stop him!” said the older boy.

“Is that a fact?” asked Bill gloating.

“Well, yes sir, we’ve all heard the stories.”

Bill stretched hard and wide. “Well I guess I could mosey on over there and see if I can’t put a stop to this nonsense.”

The younger boy hollered, “Woo wee! We’ll go tell ’em you’re comin’!” The boys took off out the doors they came in.

Bill slowly stood up and started gathering himself.

***

Back at the general store the boys were telling everybody, even Jake and his wheelchair bound mama that Mild Bill Carpenter was on his way and was gonna put a stop to all this nonsense.

“Bill Carpenter?!” laughed Jake. “That old goat can’t do nothin’ to stop me. I’ve laid more men to rest at the end of this here barrel than he’s ever dreamed of doin’. I got more ability under this here eye pa…”

Three shots rang out! Before anybody knew what happened, Jake the Finisher was laying dead on the ground and both wheels on his mama’s wheelchair were flat. The doc ran over to Jake’s still corpse and checked his pulse. The grocer asked, “Well, Doc?”

The doc looked up from his squatted position and said, “He’s dead alright.”

“No, no! Not that,” said Old Lady Wilson. “What’s under the eye patch?”

The town chimed in. “Yeah, yeah. What is it, Doc?”

The doc stood up, wiped the blood from his hands on Jake’s mama’s frock and said, “Nothing. Nothing is under the eye patch except a fresh bullet hole.”

The town gasped. The doc lifted his gaze up to the general store loft and everybody’s eyes followed.

There stood Mild Bill Carpenter. Smoke billowing from his rifle. He cocked his lever-action, expending a spent shell and said, “Business was slow.”