Staunton's IV

                            Staunton’s IV

 

       Jim walked up the street towards Staunton’s. Big Peggy Baranski waved to him from the upper story. She was getting ready to entertain the evening’s visitors.

 

         The Geezers were long gone from the porch. The place had an uncharacteristic quiet feeling about it. Six P.M was still too early for the night’s revelers to arrive. He walked inside and waved to Barney Finnegan behind the bar. Then, he sat on his favorite stool and signaled for Barney to come by.

 

“I’ll have a mug of beer and a dram of that fine Canadian Whiskey you have,” said Jim.

 

“Aye, coming right up said Barney.”  As he placed both items before Jim on the bar.

 

Off in the corner he could hear several voices carrying on a loud manner. It was three loggers who had come into town for supplies. They had also stopped for a little taste. Jim knew one of the lads, Andrew Coggins. He was a big, ugly mug, with fiery red hair and an awful temper when he was in the drink.

 

The man must have been thinking the same. He called over, “Hey you, Mac Adams. Is it true they call you “Joltin’  Jim?”

 

“it has been said,” replied jim laconically.

 

“And it is a great boxer they claim you are ?” said Coggins.

“People say what they want, Andy,” said Jim.

 

Coggins had risen from the table and was making his way unsteadily towards Jim Mc Adams at the bar.

 

“Oh, shit,” was all Jim could think. He could see how this move would play out, a mile away.

 

Jim stood up from the bar stool and planted his feet firmly.

 

Coggins stopped a few feet away and said in an aggressive manner, “would you like to match your fists against mine, Jim?”

 

Jim calmly faced the man and replied

’ I’ve no quarrel with you Coggins, and no reason to fight you.” Jim never looked for a fight, but he never turned away from one either.

 

Barney Finnegan hollered from behind the bar. “Here lads, none of that stuff in the bar.”

 

Coggins seemed to find that funny. He said with a sneer, “Is it behind the bar keep you will be hiding, Jim?”

 

Jim listened to him but watched his body English more carefully. Coggins had planted his left foot firmly ahead of his right.. To jim, a scrapper, it meant that he was getting ready to throw a right-handed hay maker. Jim tensed his body and got ready.

 

Sure enough, the mean rascal reached back and threw a right handed hay maker that would have felled a moose. Jim stepped under the punch and kicked out with his right  boot. The boot Impacted on Coggin’s left knee. The force of the kick tore up every tendon and ligament in the knee. Coggins fell with an angry roar, like a puppet cut from his strings.

 

Angry and wounded Coggins attempted to get up on his good knee to carry on the attack.

 

Jim didn’t wait for any new events. He drew his right leg back and in a perfect arc like and experienced mid fielder, he kicked out at Coggin’s head. Jim’s boot caught Coggins under his jaw with a terrific force. Coggin’s teeth slammed shut  like. Bear trap sprung in the wild, His eyes rolled back and he sank to the floor, out of the fight and down for the night.

 

Jim didn’t feel elation or remorse. These bar fights didn’t have Marquess of Queensbury rules to go by. You took out the opposition as quickly as you could before they had the chance to hurt you.

 

From the corner of his eye, jim saw movement. Two of Coggin’s mates had risen from their table and were advancing on him with evil intent.

 

From behind the bar, Barney Finnegan leveled his twin barreled shot gun and hollered. “Stop right there lads, or I will mow you down like wheat in a farmer’s field.”

 

The two lumber jacks thought for a second. It looked like they were going to keep on coming at Jim. But the compelling logic of a two barreled shot gun leveled at your face was a powerful argument . They stopped in their tracks.

 

Barney, seeing the threat had eased, spoke in a softer tone. “Why don’t you pick the lad up and carry him off to Dr. Wilson’s place down the street. That leg of his will need tending for a long time before he is back swinging an axe with your gang.

 

The lumber Jacks looked at each other, nodded and walked over to the fallen giant. They struggled and grunted a few times as they picked up his great mass and slung it over their shoulders like a newly fallen elk. They walked out the saloon doors and into the night.

 

Slowly, the conversation in the bar started to pick up. The big fight scene was over. Jim walked back to his seat at the bar and sat wearily down. “Could you bring me another Barney? “ said Jim.

 

When the bar keep laced a beer and a shot of whiskey before him, Jim said   “Sure Barney, I had no intent of starting anything in here tonight. The man came at me and refused to back off.”

 

“Aye, I saw it,” said Barney. “The lad was in a mean way tonight.”

 

A few other patrons walked by and clamped Jim on the shoulder, wishing him well.

 

Peter Sadler, a carpenter on Jim’s project offered his sage advice, “Watch out for those axe men, Jim. They don’t forgive or forget. They are as bad as the god damned Irish for nursing a grudge.

 

Jim finished his beer, downed the dram of whiskey and got down from the stool. He waved good night to Barney Finnegan and walked out into the night.

 

                                             -30-

                                       (976 words)

                               Joseph Xavier Martin