Once Upon a Time in Chimney Rock

The town of Chimney Rock did not attract the finest of individuals. It wasn’t the type of place a family of four looking to settle down would see on a map and exclaim, “Wow, what a lovely looking town!” Though the housing was affordable, which was perhaps its only allure. 

Rumors circulated about a sheriff somewhere in town, although none of the locals had caught sight of him in quite some time. One uneventful tale claimed to have witnessed him relieving himself on the side of a building one night. That was pretty much it. Folk must’ve gotten bored for a story like that to spread. 

After years without an active sheriff, or any lawman for that matter, it left the town of Chimney Rock in a lawless state. Crime ran rampant throughout its dusty streets. Crimes such as thievery, the occasional murder of the first, second, and third degree, vehicular manslaughter, horse drag racing (a town favorite), gambling, public intoxication, grand larceny, tax evasion, and loitering, just to name a few. Living in such an environment, one grew to accept criminal behavior. It was a way of daily life. In fact, without it, folks wouldn’t feel comfortable. 

This did not stop the occasional fool from coming into town and attempting to instill some law and order. On the horizon, Chimney Rock looked like a ripe opportunity to gain some glory, and be a cool guy or something. The most recent fool was named Steel Davis. Yes, ‘steel’, as in the metal. When townsfolk first heard him say it, they mistook it for ‘steal’, which would’ve fit right in with the normal activities of the town. They were disappointed upon the correction. Soon, they knew what he was really up to. 

“You hear the news?” Spingle, a public drunkard, said to another outside of the saloon. “We got another newcomer in town.” 

“Newcomer? You mean that Steal fellow?” Joey replied.

“He says it's Steel, but what do I know?” Spingle didn’t know how he knew Joey used the wrong word, it just felt right. “It's been awhile since a stranger came into town, to shake up the order of things.” 

Joey took a sip of beer, spilling most of it on his shirt. “Yup, been a week at least. I’ll admit, I think this fella’s got a chance. You see the duel he had yesterday? Bang bang!” Joey mimicked a pistol with his fingers and started blasting. “Blew Garry away like he was a piece of paper in the wind.” 

“Whoa, using similes now are we? What are you, educated all of a sudden?”

“I picked up a book the other day. Neat stuff, those words. Anyway, I think the townwide bet is saying Steel will survive six days before he’s either thrown out, runs away, or shot dead.” 

Spingle counted on his fingers up to six. “That’s the longest streak yet! I reckon we’ll have to keep a close eye on things.” 

“A close eye indeed.” 

Even though most of Chimney Rock’s occupants bet on Steel’s eventual failure, everyone was entertained by a proper shootout. And if there was one hobby Steel was proficient in, it was slinging lead out of his iron. 

He’d been doing duels all day. There was a line of scoundrels waiting their turn. Steel proved so good he didn’t even kill anyone. He chose to shoot each man’s gun right out of their hand. It was quite the showing, best Chimney Rock had in a long while.

As dusk approached, everyone took a brief break for dinner, alcohol, and perhaps a nap. A day filled with dueling could exhaust any man. Besides, the streets needed to be cleared for more horse drag racing. 

The saloon owners and its patrons treated Steel quite nicely that night. He had a full belly on the house’s tab. It would appear he’d live to survive another day. 

“So, Steel, where you hail from?” The bartender asked.

Steel stared down into the contents of his glass. “I come from a place not even the Devil dare venture. Where I’m from, kids come out the womb sideways, and with a rattlesnake already in their hands. Where I’m from ain’t even got a name.” 

“They come out sideways?” Iva, a woman amongst those listening, exclaimed. “I hope you’ve got doctors where you’re from, ‘cause that ain’t right. Not natural.” 

“Coming from a place like that, I’m surprised you don’t find comfort in the anarchy of Chimney Rock.” The bartender filled up another glass of whiskey for him.

“That’s precisely why I aim to stop this madness. I’ve seen what living in this filth can do to a man. Ain’t nothing good. We need justice in this world.”

By now, a rather large gathering was stationed around Steel, ever interested in what he had to say. Spingle and Joey were present too of course. Their drinking habits were an all-day affair. 

“Yeah well, what if we like the madness?” Iva questioned. “I mean, if I didn’t get robbed every morning walking to work, I don’t know what I’d do?” 

Others voiced their agreement. 

“What if we like the Chaos, Mr. Steel?” Said the bartender. 

Steel grinned. He didn’t care if it was him versus the entire town. “What’s more chaotic than completely changing the status quo? You’re unafraid of a bullet to the gut, but terrified of a peaceful day?” 

No one really had an answer for him. In the moments racking their brains for a reply, many realized Steel’s words held a certain truth.

“How exactly do you plan on establishing this justice of yours?” Joey asked him.

Steel stood up from the bar rather abruptly and drew his six shooter. A few almost wet themselves from the sight. But no shooting was had. Steel simply began spinning the firearm around his finger. He spun it and flipped it and twisted it and pulled it and bopped it. Strange maneuvers, but it just looked right in Steel’s hands.

“In a manner you all will comprehend: through violence.” Steel finally said. 

Everyone loved some good pistol spinning action. The pistol-spinning school in town had been closed down for repairs, and in a town without rules or obligations, those repairs took years. With only rank amateurs in the pistol-spinning industry running amuck, this showing of pure skill couldn’t help but charm the daylights out of everyone around. 

Steel holstered the pistol in a sly manner. “Even if there ain’t no sheriff in town, followers of anarchy and chaos always have a leader. Who might that be ‘round these parts?” 

It took a few moments to register what he meant by ‘leader’. But eventually the word clicked.

“Oh, you mean Old Olga Mooney.” Spingle blurted out. “Yeah, she’s the one we go to anytime there’s a problem needs fixing.” 

Nods of agreement rippled through the gathering. 

“Need a building constructed? Olga.” The bartender said. “Clogged outhouse? Olga. She does it all really.” 

Conversations spurted up about how great Olga was but was interrupted by Steel. 

“Wait. You said, ‘she’?” 

“Uh I think so. Hasn’t said otherwise.” 

Steel finished the contents of his drink, fixed his hat, and started for the door. “Looks like I’ll be leaving this place. I thank you all for your hospitality.” 

Concern scoured the faces of everyone in attendance. 

“Wait! Where you going?” Joey stumbled after him.

Steel turned back, a hint of regret upon him. “I got rules, you know? Lines I don’t cross. Killing women and children is one of them. If she’s the leader, looks like I’ll be taking my leave.”

“No! You can’t go!” A sentiment echoed by most. 

“You only just arrived in town Mr. Steel.” The bartender grabbed another bottle from below the bar. “I’ll let you have Chimney Rock’s finest.” 

“Who’s going to entertain us now?” Iva thrust her head into her hands and wept.

Steel watched as he drove these poor folk into a frenzy of despair. He had another rule, another line he would never cross—to never disappoint those who had shown him nothing but kindness. 

“Can’t you resort to just a little violence?” One patron asked. 

“Surely shooting her in the arm or leg wouldn’t do much harm. Though she is quite old.” Joey grew rather concerned over his own comment.

Steel waved each of the comments away with his hand and ceased the uproar. “I’m a man of my word. I said no violence and I meant it. But violence need not be the only answer. Perhaps your Olga can be swayed by words to change her ways. It's worth a shot I reckon.”

“Words, yes!” Joey shouted. He’d just been getting into the words scene. Good to know someone as cool as Steel was aware of them as well. 

“Perhaps if we all join you, she’ll be forced to listen.” The bartender said. He really just wanted to quit working and join some fun.

“Yeah! March onto Olga’s! Come on everyone.” Iva shouted.

Everyone in the saloon made for the door. All except Steel.

“Shouldn’t we wait ‘till morning?” He asked.

They laughed at him for his ignorance. 

“This is Chimney Rock, there’s no rules.” Spingle assured him.

With that, Steel couldn’t argue, so he joined them.

Quite a march it was. Chimney Rock did have record keepers of its events, any town as exciting as this one would, and each described the journey from the saloon to Olga’s abode as a sort of pilgrimage. The passion was palpable, and not even the most dastardly of residents dared stop the throng from reaching its destination. 

Her abode rested on a hill at the edge of town. It was a quaint little place with a nice wrap around porch and what constituted as a front yard in these dusty plains. 

Steel expected guards or some form of impediment to their meeting, yet to his surprise, she simply sat on a bench polishing a gold-plated rifle under the shade of a dry tree. 

As they approached, Olga looked up with delight. “Oh visitors! How lovely. I just made a fresh batch of cookies and was worried I’d have no one to share them with.” She got up to presumably grab the cookies. 

“Uh, Olga.” The bartender said. “It's something serious we’ve come for.” 

Her expression faltered. “Don’t tell me the outhouse is clogged again. We need to keep Jeremiah away from that damn thing.” 

“No outhouses Olga,” Steel began. “I’ve come to discuss the crime which has plagued your little town. There must be a stop to it.” 

“Crime? Crime in my town?” Olga appeared utterly perplexed. “I don’t think so, the sheriff said he’s taken care of it. Must be this heat that’s got you confused. I’ll fetch some water and those cookies.” Olga entered her house and left the crowd outside. 

Steel was left bewildered. He turned to his followers. “There’s been a sheriff this whole time?” 

“I haven’t a clue as to what she’s talking about.” The bartender said. 

“Neither me.” Added Iva. 

It didn’t take long for Olga to return with a great basket full of cookies. It was all freshly made and delicious smelling, so everyone forgot about crime for a moment and simply ate, engaging in minor discussion all the while. 

Even Steel partook, though anyone could’ve predicted he’d be the first to steer it back to the problem at hand. 

“Olga, as much as I appreciate the niceties, you seriously don’t mean to tell me you haven’t a clue as to the state your town is in. It's got the highest murder rate this side of…well, everything!” 

Olga shrugged. “I can’t go out much, due to being old. But everyone’s nothing but nice to me, and not yet has anyone come complaining about any crime. They sure complain about the alcohol running out, that’s certain. The sheriff comes and collects his checks and tells me everything’s in order.” 

“Did all the gunfire and screaming not concern you?” Steel questioned.

“My hearing isn’t what it used to be, dear. Heck, I can barely hear you now, gotta read those pretty lips of yours.”

“Take it from a resident, we ain’t seen or heard of no sheriff in years.” Spingle said to her. “I’m sure everyone else here can testify.” 

Indeed, the entire crowd testified under oath to support his claim.

Olga took another bite of a cookie. It was her fourth one already. Nobody was judging her for it or anything, just pointing it out is all. “I’ll be darned. You certain? I mean, I suppose I trust everyone’s word. Just a bit of a shock. Four years that scoundrel has been stealing from me for doing what? For sitting around all day?”

“Thieving is rather popular around here. That's why I'm here – to put an end to it and restore order," Steel said, emanating an aura that inspired those around him, easing their worries. 

Joey cleared his throat. “Olga, did you say it's been four years?” 

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

“According to Article IX, Section I of the Annotated Code of the West specifies that sheriffs ‘shall be elected by the qualified voters of their respective counties for a term of four years and shall have such qualifications, powers and duties as provided by general law.’”

Joey’s words stunned everyone into silence. Most not really comprehending what he said. 

“You weren’t lying, you really have been indulging in the written word?” Spingle said. He was proud of his friend.  

Olga rose to her feet and addressed the crowd. “Appears we’re overdue for an election! I want every resident’s vote placed and counted in this cookie basket. We’re going to have a genuine sheriff, not a thief! Now come on everyone, let’s get to it!” 

No one needed to be asked twice. When Olga made an order, people listened. It was perhaps the most efficient Chimney Rock had ever run. 

Candidates for sheriff were scarce, since no one even knew there was a current sheriff. Steel was the obvious choice and earned a hefty counting. Clearly, he had made an impression.  

It took another day to count the votes, and as the majority were tallied, it became evident that Steel would win by a landslide. A celebration ensued at the saloon, although a few individuals expressed their dissent. Some poorly scribbled middle fingers or wrote curse words on their ballots as a form of protest against having a sheriff at all. But that was as far as they went. No one stormed to the saloon brandishing pistols, demanding a halt to the count—no one except the old sheriff. 

He was fuming, a literal steam of rage emanating from his head. It was the first time anyone had seen him in four years, and unlike Steel, he did not make a good impression. 

“Come on out Steel!” He bellowed. 

Steel walked out to the street and noticed the sheriff badge pinned to his chest. “Finally showed your face, huh?”

“I’m here to bring you in.” He said, anger consuming him.

Steel couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think you’ll be bringing anyone in. You haven’t received one vote yet.”

“As long as I got this badge, I have authority. Now either I bring you alive, or I bring you in cold.”

“Bring me in for what?” 

“For dueling, of course. It's outlawed in the county, and I saw you dueling all day long when you first showed up. So did everyone else. With you out of the picture, nobody can steal this badge from me.” 

Steel was skeptical, ready to shoot the sheriff dead right then and there, until he caught a glimpse of Joey's expression.

“He’s right, Steel. According to the State Legislature, Title 38, Chapter 38, Article 114, clearly states that anyone ‘who fights or promotes, or is concerned in fighting a duel’ is prosecutable by law. And technically, he’s still sheriff.” 

Steel nearly made the argument for self-defense but knew it would fall on deaf ears. He wasn’t about to shoot a lawman. “Fine.” He dropped his pistol and surrendered. 

A smug smile appeared on the sheriff’s face. “I knew you were a coward.” 

As the sheriff moved to arrest Steel, the distinct sound of multiple pistols cocking echoed through the air. Many of them came from the saloon. 

“Don’t lay a finger on him.” The bartender had a shotgun pointed right at the sheriff’s chest. 

Spingle, Joey, and Iva had weapons drawn, joined by other supporters. 

The sheriff grabbed Steel and used him as a shield. “What are you going to do, shoot your friend? After I’m done with him, you’ll all be put to the hangman’s noose as well! All this for a man you’ve known for two days. Don’t worry, another stranger coming to shake up the order of things will be along soon enough. Just you—”

A bullet tearing through the sheriff’s skull shut him up rather quickly. He flew backward, a spray of red staining the air, and hit the ground with a thud. 

All eyes turned to the source of the shot to see Olga at the far end of the street holding her gold-plated rifle. She blew the smoke from the barrel. “The final votes were counted, and he just assaulted Sheriff Steel in the line of duty.” 

Such a cheer erupted from the townsfolk that it overpowered the sound of celebratory gunshots in the air. Steel was the new sheriff of Chimney Rock, and in the years to come, he and Olga turned it into a prosperous town. Crime dropped, deaths receded (except for tuberculosis, couldn’t quite squash that one), the pistol-spinning school was repaired, and the outhouse forever unclogged. 

Steel won the next three elections before deciding to step down, bidding farewell to Chimney Rock, and embarking on further adventures across the wild, wild west.