Episode 51
The Edge of the Fiery Pit
Bob Miller, county constable, could barely make sense of what he was seeing down at the Majestic. The interior of the saloon looked like a cyclone had blown through. Broken furniture and glass lay about. The face of the fine mirror hanging behind the bar, shipped from St. Louis at great expense, was marred with cracks. A number of men lay insensate on the floor. A drover leaned on the bar hugging a broken arm to his belly. A scene of violence typical of the night life in a cow town and an expected feature in the life of any Texas lawman.
Except for the madly raving blind man standing in the center of the ring of men.
Ben Temple was raging drunk. He held the end of a broken chair leg in one hand and an ugly little derringer in the other. His normally dapper suit of clothes was scruffy and torn. Blood ran down his face to stain his collar from a gash across his brow.
“You have been judged! You have all been judged and found wanting!” the blind man roared, turning this way and that to threaten the men around him. The ring wafted and waned, looking for an opportunity to rush Temple.
“He is a maniac! I want him out of here!” Marcelle DeGeaux was shouting from behind the shelter of the long bar.
Bob waved a calming hand to the Frenchman and shouldered his way through the circle of men.
“Temple, you’ve had enough for one evening,” he said loudly with a firm tone he hoped sounded friendly to the blind man’s ears.
“Who’s that? Who’s talking to me?” Ben said, wheeling to aim the twin barrels of the knucklebuster at the source of the voice.
“It’s Bob Miller. County constable. I think you oughta come along with me.”
“You’ve been judged as well, Miller! Mercury Wells has been judged! It teeters at the edge of the fiery pit!” White spittle flew from Temple’s lips.
The other constables assigned to the town, five in all, arrived at the doors of the Majestic. Miller held a hand out toward them. They remained in a clutch, ready to assist.
“Ben, you settle down now. Drop that chair leg and that two-shot.”
“You will be cast into the outer darkness! There will be a wailing and gnashing of teeth!” Ben still raved but his voice was trailing away now. His arm trembled with the effort of holding the derringer straight.
“You toss those weapons down and come with me, Ben.”
“I’m to be taken into custody? Locked away in a cell?” Ben dropped his hands to his sides.
“Only till you sleep it off,” Bob Miller said. He stepped forward to pluck the derringer from the blind man’s hand. He pulled the chair leg free as well and tossed it to the floor.
“I will go peaceably, Bob. I welcome the solitude, son.” Ben surrendered his hands to the constables who rushed in to manacle his wrists together and hustle him out to the street.
