Shootout at Joe's

The bullet hit Lester in the arm. With a cry of pain, he swung around and ran back to his place, holding a hand over the bleeding wound.

"You'd better hope nobody heard that shot," the woman said to both of us.

I figured nobody would hear it. We were at the far end of town, and the closest building was a gas station a half block away. The cars going by on the highway made plenty of noise. And with all the hunting that goes on around here, nobody would pay much attention to a single gunshot. Still, for five minutes, we all waited without saying a word. The only sound was the old woman snapping her gum.

At last, she grinned as if she had just won some sort of prize. "We're in luck," she said.

"Joe's not," I said. "Neither is Lester."

Lester just sat there holding his hurt arm. He wasn't about to say anything or even move.

"They shouldn't have run away," the woman said. "That was their mistake---they ran. You aren't going to try running out on me, are you?"

"No, ma'am."

"Because if you do, I'll shoot you for sure. I'll shoot anyone today. Anyone. This is my day, Wes---the day Elsie Thompson pays Joe back."

"I won't run, ma'am," I told her. "But I won't let you shoot Joe. He's . . . he's a good man, and I'll stop you one way or another.

"I went over to fill Lester's mug. He didn't need more coffee as much as he needed a doctor. But I figured he would live.

"You sound pretty fond of Joe," the woman said.

"I am."

"Well, I used to be. I used to love him more than words can say. I thought he felt the same way about me, but I guess I was wrong."

"If you really loved him," I said, "you'd put that gun away and say 'hi' when he comes in."

She laughed bitterly. "You don't know the pain. You don't know how it feels to love a person and lose him."

"Sure I do." I leaned against the counter and looked her in the eyes. She blinked at me through her thick glasses. "I've lost people I loved. I guess everyone has. My mother died three years ago, and . . ."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Wes. But it doesn't have anything to do with me and Joe."

"It sure does," I said. "I felt sad. I felt cheated, as if she'd run out on me. But if she came walking through that door right now, I sure wouldn't put a bullet into her. I'd give her a hug and say, 'Welcome back.' "

"You're not me."

"I guess I wouldn't want to be you." I leaned over to refill her coffee mug. I could tell the revolver was aimed at me all the while. "Why don't you just drink up now and leave?" I said.

"I'll leave soon enough," she said. "Right after I empty this gun into Joe."

I swung the coffee pot at her face.