The Shattered West: The Tale of Colt Marsh - Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Something very different

Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, May 5, 1869

Colt was awakened to an all too familiar yet entirely unexpected sound. The call of a ship. Rousing quickly he looked up and saw a ship coming their way. The family on the boat woke and all stood and shouted, waving their arms frantically. Soon they were all pulled aboard a cargo vessel of some kind. The captain, Dutch by his accent, was a nice enough man but spoke no Chinese and almost no English. This made sharing their story rather difficult. Colt suggested to the family they avoid sharing the more obscure details and just accept the hospitality.

They were given a warm place to rest, blankets and food. The sailors in turn shared their meager possessions; a new shirt for the father, new pants for Colt, and so on, and one even sailor brought out a couple of wooden animals he had carved and gave them to the children.

In a few days they spotted land and upon stepping onto the docks, the captain as best he could told them they were at city of Saint Andrew. Saint Andrew… his mind searched back to all the times he tried to learn and stay up to date about the events back in America…

Formerly San Francisco, the city was taken over by Russian traders who had been unable to establish a foothold anywhere else after the sale of Alaska to the United States in 1867. The Russians had almost lost it in 1868 but the full navy was dispatched against the minimal forces of The Free State of California and the city was taken. It’d been promptly renamed Saint Andrew, patron saint of the navy.

It had taken years for Colt to forgive that it was Russian traders who bought him from French ones and forced him into the bowels of their ship and had to shovel coal day and night. It had been his only direct exposure to Russians so he hoped they were just a few bad apples and not a reflection on the bunch.

The crew had scraped together a few departing items for Colt and the family, a day or two of food apiece and a few gold coins. Colt did his best to thank them and was soon on his way. The Chinese family, now being on land and still uncertain of Colt’s powers, nearly ran away and into the city the first chance they got. Colt decided not to follow them.

So here he was, Saint Andrew, and was it ever different than back home. In the last year or so the Russians had merely renamed the city and spied a grand church up the road, only rebranded it Russian Orthodox from whatever it had been before. Colt could hear all manner of languages being spoken around him and it was a bustling port town so that was no surprise. He was awestruck at the sights and sounds and more than once hollered at by someone to get out of the way amidst the busy traffic of the city.

He should have paid closer attention because as he was walking backwards, looking up and up a grand building in front of him, he bumped into a man. That man bumped into another who was carrying an arm load of boards. That man fell, spinning and knocked into a ladder which had a man fairly high up who then fell. And that man fell onto another man, rendering him unconscious. It was amazing how quickly the frantic pace of the city could halt entirely. All eyes were on Colt.

“I am so sorry,” Colt tried to say and while a few others ignored it and went about their business, those most affected looked like they were out for blood. But before anyone could try anything a beast of a man tore through the crowd. He may have been the biggest man Colt had ever seen, built like a cliff face, with a handlebar mustache and clearly had a penchant for drink as he still carried one in his hand.

“Now just who do you think you are?” the man said in a very thick Irish accent.

“Well sir, let me introduce myself. I’m Co-,” he tried to say but before he could finish the man had punched him with his freehand. In training, Colt had been struck by all manner of implements and that fist reminded him of the time a mule had kicked him. That time he’d been out cold for three days. This time Colt felt like he wanted to be out cold for three days but he forced himself to his feet.

“A chonách san ort!” the man shouted already in his face. “Serves you right for taking out me brother like that!”

“I’m so sorry,” Colt managed to say, putting everything he had into standing his ground. “Please, I just got off a boat from a very long and arduous journey.”

“I don’t care if you're the Emperor himself,” which drew an “ooo” from the crowd and a laugh, “but I was supposed to be fighting my brother in ten minutes.”

“What? Why would you be fighting your own brother?”

“We had a bet to settle and a bunch of folks were planning on paying to watch us settle it and now...well now they’ve no fight to watch except’n me beating your arse bloody,” the brute replied and came at Colt again.

This time Colt was a little more ready and was able to dodge and trip up the man. This only seemed to infuriate him more. Before they could get much further along a man in a very fine suit stepped in between them. “Gentlemen, seems we have a new challenger. What do ya say folks? Would you like to see Seamus Fogerty take on grasshopper?” The crowd erupted in cheers and Colt was dragged to a boxing ring and tossed inside. For a big man, Seamus leapt in gingerly. Colt was even more stunned when he saw Seamus remove his shirt and saw how muscular the man was.

“I don’t want to fight,” Colt told the man in the suit.

“I don’t much care son,” the man replied, “but unless you want Seamus and those you injured today to outright squash you, this is your best chance at survival.” The man in the suit stepped to the middle and quieted the crowd. “Hello folks, we have something very different for you today. I know you were looking forward to seeing the Fogerty brothers settle who was the toughest but we all know that fight would have lasted hours and who has time for that?” And the crowd laughed. “So instead, we have the crowd favorite, the Irish Giant, Seamus Fogerty against…,” and he pointed to Colt.

“Uh… Colt, Colt Marsh.”

There was a chuckle from everyone and the announcer as well who just repeated “Colt Marsh” weakly and then called the men to the center of the ring. “Alright gentlemen, you know the rules… no weapons, no groin shots and no biting...right Seamus?”

Seamus shrugged. “Fine, no biting.”

“Alright, now each of you go to your corners and turn and face me when you’re ready,” the announcer said. Seamus just walked back to his corner and began to grunt and paw like a bull, waiting to attack. Colt knew he needed to prepare.

Back in his corner, he closed his eyes and stretched and began a small Tai Chi routine which he could tell was prompting the crowd to jeer him. He was able to set side some of the pain he still felt from the punch he’d taken and readied himself for a fight. He turned and nodded. A bell rang and the bull charged.

Colt focused on blocking or dodging punches knowing how devastating any singular strike might be. The few hits he was able to land felt like he was striking stone and his opponent was unphased. This went on round after round. Colt had never faced an opponent like this and was feeling his strength waning.

As night settled in and when Colt thought he wouldn’t be able to continue on much longer, he heard a different sort of roar from the crowd. Everyone in the audience quieted. Crashing through the crowd Colt had to do a double take at what he saw. He was sure at first that he saw his opponent outside the ring but looked back and saw him still there. This man entered the ring and stood opposite Seamus with Colt in between.

“Seamus, you miserable sack of goat shite, you had the fight without me!” the man said.

“You were out cold, Sean. What was I supposed to do?”

“Wait. The fight was supposed to settle it once and for all which one of us was the toughest.”

“You’re me twin brother Sean, we both know I’m twelve seconds older which would clearly mean I’m the stronger.”

“I told you how sick I was of hearing you say that, Seamus, and what I’d do if you said it again!”

“Yeah, you’d kill me,” Seamus returned with a laugh and the crowd joined him in it.

Colt was the only one not laughing which is why he noticed Sean reach behind his back and pull out a pistol and bring it up to fire. And like twice now in only a few days, Colt felt his world slow to a halt and his mind wander…

Five years ago

His master brought he and Hong into the courtyard. He had a bow and quiver of arrows. Colt was excited as he already knew how to shoot a bow and quite well. Instead though, Master had he and Hong stand on one end of the courtyard while he was on the other. For the next few weeks he shot arrows at them and they had to dodge them. But one day he had them line up one in front of the other instead of side by side. "But Master," Colt had said, "if Hong cannot see the arrow how can he dodge it?"

"He won't have to because you will catch it," his master replied. The next few weeks were quite painful.

"Master, this is impossible," Colt had said.

"That is because you are trying to get it from where it is instead of where you know it will be. Observe. Hai, you are the better shot. So, shoot Hong...here," he said pointing to a very specific spot. He knew better than to question his master this time so he loosed an arrow exactly at the spot he'd been told to. With amazing speed, their master snatched it right before it hit its mark. "From where it will be," he said again.

Colt came out of the memory. His eyes focused in on the angle of the gun and lined up the shot. Right at Seamus' heart.

BANG!

Seamus turned white at the sound in an instant. The crowd hushed. Sean grinned. Colt’s first was on Seamus’ heart. A few drops of blood oozed through Colt’s fingers and he winced in pain.

“Goodbye, brother. Nár a cuire Dia aon crích cóir ort,” Sean said. And with an evil grin he said, “That God does not grant you a proper end.”

Colt took a deep breath and turned to Sean. “But that’s not today,” and he held out his hand and showed Sean the bullet. With a single move, Colt leapt, spun and delivered a roundhouse kick across Sean’s face knocking him out cold.

When the hand touched his shoulder, Colt grabbed it, flipped its owner and came ready to deliver a fatal blow until he saw it was Seamus and he had tears in his eyes. “Please,” he said in a panic, “don’t kill me, I… I want to thank yee, for saving me life.”

Colt didn’t say anything. He helped Seamus to his feet. And it was Seamus who raised Colt’s arm in the air, “This is yar true champion folks, a better man there never was!” And the crowd erupted in applause. The following hours were a blur of claps on the back, free drinks, and kisses from more girls than Colt could count. When all was said and done, he found himself being laid into the softest bed he’d ever felt and was out until morning.

And morning came with a pounding on the door, then the strong, familiar hand patting his shoulder again. The bed creaked mightily as Seamus sat next to him. “I don’t right know who you are or how ya did it, but know this… I’m in your debt. Should you ever need me, ask around and someone will know where to find me and I’ll come. You’re food and lodging’s is paid for a few days out, so you rest, my friend. Rest. You’ve earned it.”

And rest he did.