The Colonel

The Union captain leaned his face down and spat on the toe of Wes’ right boot. “That’s what I think of your ‘spoils of war’ crap, Reb. Fact is, we won the gawddamned war, not you Secesh trash, and we’re the ones calling the shots down here now. You understand me? Now, hand those revolvers over to me and shuck those boots.” Wes stepped back from the man’s foul breathe and spittle. “No, Captain, I will not. I have never surrendered to the Union Army, and I am not about to hand over any of my personal property to you or anyone else. I am still a serving officer in the Confederate Army and, while I don’t want any trouble with you, I am not about to acknowledge that you have any authority over me. I suggest you return to your friends and your card game, and leave Sergeant Owens and me to finish our conversation and our whiskeys.” The Union captain looked apoplectic and sputtered, “Why, why you uppity sonuvabitch! By God, Reb, I’m placing you under arrest! Now, hand over those revolvers!” Wes said evenly, “Captain, I think you want these revolvers for yourself, not the U. S. Army. And, I think you just want to impress your friends over there. But, short of killing me, you are not getting your hands on either my revolvers or my boots. Do you understand me?” Wes thought the man would back down, but he surprised Wes by fumbling with the holster flap covering his own service revolver and clumsily drawing it. “I said you’re under arrest, Reb! Now, you either hand over your revolvers and boots, or I’ll blow you to Hell!” As the Union captain brought his revolver up and cocked the hammer, Wes drew the revolver on his right hip in a swift, fluid motion, cocking and firing it as its muzzle came level with the Union captain’s stomach. The man stumbled back, his revolver discharging into the planked flooring of the saloon, as he grasped his stomach and gaped at Wes in disbelief. Then he staggered back and tripped over a chair, falling heavily on his back. Wes stepped through the haze of bluish-white gun smoke to stand over the fallen man. He looked down into the man’s eyes as the Union captain raised his head and said, “You…” before his head fell back to the floor and his eyes looked away from Wes and at the ceiling. Then his body jerked once with a violent spasm before going limp. Wes saw the man’s eyes lose their light and then instantly take on a dull, matte look. He had seen this many times during the war and knew it meant the Union captain was dead.