All Men Fear Me by Donis Casey

Masonic Hall in a discreet and orderly manner, and Scott was longing for his pillow.
    He would be relieved beyond understanding when Friday’s Liberty Sing and draft lottery were finished, but as it was, there was no end of preparations to make. Feelings had been running high on both sides about this draft ever since Congress had instated it, and if the town could get through the day without a riot or a brawl, Scott had promised providence that he would become a religious man. He had already deputized eight or ten likely fellows to help keep the crowds in order at the Liberty Sing. Though he never picked exactly the same deputies twice, he did always pick men he trusted, which usually meant his own relatives.
    â€œHow many folks know when the wire is supposed to come through?” Trent asked him.
    â€œMost, I imagine. It’ll take a long while to get all the numbers drawn in Muskogee, and then for the reporter to get the wire sent. If the news comes in before nine o’clock, I’ll be surprised. Probably a lot of families will have already gone home, especially if they don’t have any close kin who registered. I hope it’ll be a skimpy crowd at the hall when the list is posted.”
    Billy Claude Walker burst in through the front door, putting an abrupt end to their conversation.
    â€œFight! Fight!” he yelled. Billy Claude’s staggering gait suggested that he had had more than a few.
    Scott and Trent leaped to their feet and grabbed for their gun belts. “Where? The pool hall?”
    â€œOver to Rose’s! Hurry up! It’s some fellow named Pip and Win Avey. The fellow’s got a razor! I reckon there’s like to be a killing!”
    Rose’s. Scott’s heart sank when he heard that. Scott had run the girls in a couple of times, whenever the neighbors complained of the traffic or the church ladies got on their high horses, but mostly Rose ran a tight ship, keeping the noise and mayhem to a minimum. Scott didn’t bother her if she was discreet. And most of the time she was discreet. Many people in town didn’t even know there was a bawdy house at the end of Kenetick Street.
    Since the house of ill repute was only a few blocks away, the two lawmen took out on foot. Billy Claude had a good head start on them, but being fifteen years younger, Trent outpaced him easily. Being thirty years older than his deputy, Scott brought up the rear.
    Trent got to Rose’s just as the fight spilled out into the street. Pip’s razor had done its job, for Win’s clothes were shredded and his arms were slashed. The bloody wounds just seemed to have made him mad, though, for he was chasing Pip all around the yard with an ax handle in his hands, bellowing with rage. Several working women were standing on the porch, taunting and generally doing nothing to help the situation. The yard was full of amused bystanders. One fellow in a bowler hat, standing by the lane, was practically doubled over with mirth.
    By the time Scott arrived, Trent had pulled out his Colt and ordered the two to drop their weapons and reach for the sky. Scott jerked the razor out of the young stranger’s hand and cuffed him.
    One of Win’s pals, Victor Hayes, suddenly decided to take his friend’s side in the fray and smacked Trent in the jaw. Trent went down, and Victor and Win fled into the night.
    Pip began to struggle, but Scott had had enough foolishness to last him, so he parted the man’s hair with the butt of his .45 and went over to check on his deputy.
    Trent was sitting on the ground, rubbing his jaw, with two or three solicitous ladies of the night bent over him. He looked up at Scott, sheepish. “Sorry, Boss.”
    â€œNever mind.” He straightened and cast a look around for Rose. He saw her kneeling on the porch, leaning over her bouncer, who was out cold. “Dave all right?” Scott called.
    â€œI reckon he’ll be okay,” she said. “No