El Paso: jack_straw

For six weeks, Marty and Feleena were the talk of El Paso. Some wondered when they would make it official and get married, but others whispered that nothing but trouble would come of their love, because she continued to work and dance at the cantina.

Autumn was in the wind when the Temple boys rode into town after a long, hard cattle drive. They had been to Wichita and back, selling a fine herd of longhorns at the Kansas railhead.

Clay Temple had staked out a claim on a spread of land on the Pecos River, east of El Paso, around 1840, and had set about raising cattle.

He and his family – brothers, sons, brothers-in-law and nephews – had fought off rustlers, carpetbaggers and Comanches to make their land profitable.

They were a tough bunch that worked hard and played harder, and when they came to town everyone stayed on edge.

Willis Temple was one of the younger sons of the Old Man, who was reputed to have fought with Sam Houston during the 1836 War of Independence, and was said to have been on a first-name basis with Stephen Austin himself.

Willis was a dashing fellow, handsome and reckless, and he found himself in Rosa's Cantina as his brothers and cousins were in El Paso blowing off steam after their successful cattle drive.

He stood at the bar watching Feleena dance and like everyone else, he was mesmerized. After one of her dances, he called her over and asked her to share a drink with him.

Feleena was flirting with him, like she did most of the men at Rosa's, sharing a drink with the cocky cowboy. He was feeling frisky, so he leaned in to whisper something into Feleena's ear just as Marty Claymore walked into the tavern.

The place went quiet, as if everyone sensed trouble in the air.

"You ain't got no business with her," Marty growled.

"Why, I don't see your name on her anywhere," Willis said, with a dangerous smile on his face. "Seems to me like she's fair game."

No one was quite sure exactly what happened next. Some say Willis started to draw the pistol with his right hand, but others say he just dropped his hand down as if to simply scratch his ass. It really didn't matter.

What did matter was what Marty Claymore thought, and he apparently thought Willis was drawing on him. Marty had always had quick reflexes; that's how he'd survived four years of war in the cavalry.

In less than a heartbeat, Marty flashed his pistol and shot Willis Temple right in the heart. He was dead before he hit the floor.

The echo from the shot was still reverberating through the silent tavern as Marty stared at the deed he'd done. He'd just killed a man in cold blood, with little provocation other than petty jealousy.

Feleena was the first to recover her wits.

"Martin!" she cried. "You must leave. Now!"

With that, Marty followed her out the back door of Rosa's, then gave her a quick kiss before running to the livery, where he knew there was a good horse to be found.

Tears streamed down Feleena's cheeks as she watched Marty ride off like the wind toward the badlands of New Mexico, just ahead of the shouting group of Temples that were clamoring for justice.

Old Clay Temple made a solemn vow that the man who killed his son would be killed in retribution, no matter how long it took.

Marty was able to evade their clutches for a period of time. He had a head start and a horse that could run, plus his lifelong skills at life in the outdoors.

When the posse the Temples gathered failed to run Marty to ground, the old man put one of his older sons in charge of keeping a detail of men at the ready to watch the approaches of El Paso and wait for Marty to return.

As winter began to deepen, the cold and loneliness began to prey on Marty's mind. He knew his life would be worthless in El Paso, and he knew he should simply move on to some other part of the country and put Texas behind him.

But he couldn't bear the thought of living without Feleena, so thoroughly had she etched herself on his heart.

"What's the use of livin' if I cain't have the one I love," he finally said to himself one cold windy night.

The next morning, he packed up what gear he had with him – which wasn't much – and pointed himself back toward El Paso.

He didn't have much of a plan, simply a vague idea to make a quick run into town, convince Feleena to go away with him, gather up their things and leave on the first stage out of town.

Three days later, at dusk, Marty sat wearily on his horse atop the high bluff overlooking El Paso. He could make out the lights of Rosa's down below. With luck, he might be able to sneak into town, gather up Feleena and be gone before the Temples knew he'd been back.

Even as he pushed his way down the hill toward town, though, he heard the rumble of horses in the distance. To the right, he saw five men heading his way at a quick pace, then he heard even more off to his left, perhaps as many as a dozen.

Until he heard the first shot, he wasn't sure who it was, but as the shots and shouts swelled in his direction, he knew the jig was up. His only chance was to push his weary mount in a frantic race for Rosa's back door.

As he pounded down the hill, Marty felt s searing pain in his side, and he knew it was a bullet that had grazed him. The pain was agony, but he pushed on, his only thought getting to Feleena.

Feleena had bravely continued working the cantina through the lonely weeks after Marty shot Willis Temple, even though her heart was no longer in it. Her body ached for the touch of her lover, but she knew it was better if he were to never come back to El Paso.

Compounding her loneliness were the mornings when she knelt in the outhouse heaving the contents of her stomach into the putrid hole.

She had just started to work on a frosty night when she heard a commotion from outside, shots and shouting. A feeling of dread welled in her soul, as if she knew what was happening.

She looked out the back door of the cantina just in time to see Marty riding down the alley. Her heart was filled with a toxic combination of ecstasy and dismay at the sight of her man. She was overjoyed to see him, but she was shocked at the way he was swaying in the saddle.

Even as she watched, a man stepped out of the shadows with a rifle and fired.

Marty saw through pain-glazed eyes as Feleena stepped out of the back door of Rosa's, and waved her back, afraid that she might get caught in the crossfire.

He never saw the man step from the shadows, but he did see the white puff of smoke and he did feel the bullet smack into his chest.

A crowd had gathered in the back alley as Marty fell from the saddle, his blood oozing into the cold dust.

With a shriek of grief, Feleena broke free of the crowd and fell on his prostrate body, not caring that Marty's blood was soaking into her fancy dress.

Marty could feel his life ebbing with each passing second, but he felt a strange contentment. He'd found his love, and he was in her arms again, and that was the only thing that mattered at that moment.

With the last bit of strength remaining in his body, he raised his head and brought his lips to Feleena's. They kissed one last cold kiss, then Marty whispered into her ears a final goodbye.

"I-I-I'm s-s-so s-s-s-sorry, my love," he gasped. "Please, d-d-don't forget..."

And with that, Marty Claymore died.

Feleena's scream was truly blood-curdling in its anger and grief, and before anyone could stop her, she pulled one of Marty's pistols from its holster, turned it to her breast and fired.

Her aim was true and the bullet ripped into her heart. She fell dead on top of the man she had truly loved, taking with her the unborn baby she carried.

No one knew for sure who paid for the funeral or the stone markers for the graves that sat side-by-side in the city cemetery. Some said Clay Temple, in a fit of remorse over Feleena's death, footed the bill.

Without Feleena to dance and entice the men of El Paso, Rosa's Cantina reverted back to its former position as just another sleepy tavern, and a heartbroken Rosa sold the place a few years later.

Eventually, the story of Marty Claymore and Feleena Menendez faded into obscurity, recalled only by a few eyewitnesses or those with personal involvement.

^ ^ ^ ^

"That's it," the apparition that was Marty Claymore said wearily, as he poured another glass of whiskey and downed it rapidly. "My punishment for killin' Willis Temple, then not bein' there to stop Feleena from killin' herself has been to wander here in purgatory 'til I confess what I done and apologize to the Temples. They tell me I cain't take the next step until I do that, but I been too stubborn to do it until now. But I'm tired of the pain, tired of this wandrin'. I'm lonely and I want to go home. So, Ray Temple, I'm sorry for losin' my temper like that. It weren't his fault, and it weren't Feleena's, either. That's just what she did, how she was. Weren't nothin' to it, but I was too jealous to see it."

"But he was going to draw on you," I said. "He'd have killed you anyway."

"Don't think so," Marty said. "Them boys was wild and ornery, but they weren't stupid. Besides, who can say for sure if he really was goin' for his gun? I didn't give him no chance. I just shot him dead, just like that. I deserved what I got, but Feleena; she didn't need to do what she done. I wasn't worth it. I was just a brokedown ol' cowboy with my best days behind me. She coulda been a real lady, coulda had babies to love, my babies ..."

I felt a tug in my heart as Marty put his hand to his eyes just for a second. He'd been in such pain, wandering the netherland between life and redemption that it touched my soul.

"Anyway," he said as he composed himself. "I'm sorry for what I done. I fucked ever'thin' up because of my jealousy. I hope you and your people can find it in your hearts to forgive me."

"Marty, it's not my place to forgive," I said gently. "It was a long time ago and time has marched on. You just need to forgive yourself. After that, it's in God's hands."

"I miss her so," Marty said, and this time he didn't bother to hide the tears that fell down his weathered cheeks. "She was the only woman I ever loved."

At that moment, we both heard the distinct sound of footsteps coming down the old wooden stairs, footsteps that were undeniably those of a woman.

I looked past Marty's shoulder to see a new apparition enter the saloon. She was dressed in a snug-fitting black dress which accentuated a curvy body that moved with sinuous grace.

But what arrested my attention were the eyes. They were dark, luminous orbs set in the face of a goddess. The whole effect was topped by a flowing mane of shimmering raven hair with a small sprig of flowers holding it back behind her head.

"Feleena?" I whispered.

Marty whirled around and his whole countenance changed. His eyes sparkled and a smile split his face nearly in two. He leaped from his chair, she dashed to where he was standing and they embraced, kissing frantically, two lovers reuniting after such a long time apart.

"Feleena, my love," Marty said softly as they broke their embrace and just stared at each other. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Martin," she whispered. "Come. It is time. We can be together now, for all eternity. You have done the penance required of you and the gates of heaven are now open to you. My love, I've been waiting for you."

She offered him her arm, he took it and together they strolled through the swinging doors of the saloon. Just before they passed the threshold, they both looked back at me.

Marty nodded his head in my direction and I saluted him, and Feleena gave me a wink and mouthed a kiss. I distinctly heard the musical peal of her soft laughter as they sauntered into the hot, dusty street.

As they walked away, I jumped up from my chair and dashed to the door for one final glimpse. I saw them walking arm-and-arm down the empty street, their eyes gazing lovingly on each other

Just then, a sudden gust of wind blew up a veil of dust that stung my eyes and forced me to bow my head. When I looked up again, they were gone.

The wind picked up even stronger, blowing dust and chaff into the air and I felt the old saloon start to spin. Around and around, I again felt that void wash over me...

^ ^ ^ ^

LOS ANGELES, 2007

I was still spinning and I felt myself being shaken violently.

"Ray!" a female voice said. "Ray, come on, wake up!"

It was Carla, my secretary, who accompanied me on all of my business trips. I awoke in a groggy state, totally disoriented. I could still feel the spinning, and I realized it was the LearJet making a sharp, tight turn.

"Where... Where are we?" I said, feeling like I had a wad of cotton in my mouth.

"We're making our final approach into Ontario," Carla said. "You need to pull your seat up and strap in for landing. Boy, you sure were out of it. What happened?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I said.

I smiled as I looked down on the urban sprawl of metropolitan L.A. I saw the Ontario airport, where we always came in, because it's easier to land private planes there rather than at LAX and it's closer to our destination.

I thought about Marty and Feleena – and about Willis Temple, my ancestor, who had set the whole thing in motion. I thought too about the code of the Old West, and decided I liked the 21st century better.

Sure, the Old West method of settling scores had a simplistic appeal, and I am not so naïve as to believe that method has gone entirely out of style in some modern American subcultures.

But the chances are such a confrontation in today's world would have been settled in other, less deadly ways, and chances are all three of them would have walked away and lived another day.

Still, I got a bit of satisfaction knowing that Marty and Feleena are together again, the way it was meant to be, back in the old West Texas town of El Paso.

FINIS