Bassett’s Street Justice
Getting back to my story; you remember that Lute Fowler gunned down Gawk Larkin in a shootout in front of Charley Rath’s store. There had been bad blood between Fowler and Larkin for some time. Gawk Larkin was a fairly successful farmer with a spread about five miles outside of the city.
Fowler was a fast hand with a gun and a gambler who took occasional jobs for drinking money when his luck was bad. During one such period, he worked for a few months at the Larkin property. He didn't much like Gawk, but he didn't mind Mrs. Larkin at all.
Victoria (Vicky) Larkin was tall and large framed with long, flowing hair the color of honey from the hive. An ample woman - her assets were clearly displayed when she lent a hand with the chores, which was her custom. Fowler eyed Vicky with the intensity of a bear getting ready for a feast of spawning salmon.
Gawk noticed Lute's interest and the tension between the two men escalated. As for Vicky, she never gave Lute any encouragement whatsoever. She was devoted to Gawk and they sweated out the work of the farm side by side just like a well trained pair of draft horses. Besides being a strong worker, Vicky Larkin was an enterprising cook. She could make beans, biscuits and bacon seem like a meal snatched from the expensive tables of the Tremont Street House Hotel back East in Boston. After Lute Fowler had finished plowing the sections that he was hired for. He took his pay and went back to Dodge, harboring a resentment that only grew as time went on. He took to 'riding' Gawk every time the farmer came to town for supplies or whatever. As they argued Lute would always challenge Gawk with: "If you don't like it, why don't you just reach for that gun you're wearing."
In the store that day, Fowler was especially insulting. There were more than half a dozen customers in the emporium when Lute said, "I'll tell you boys something. That Vicky Larkin is one really sweet woman and I should know, cause when I was plowing for Mr. Larkin I was also helping out with Mrs. Larkin’s plowing, if you know what I mean."
Enraged, Gawk, spat, "Okay Fowler. That's enough of your rotten lies. Outside right now. I'm gonna shoot you like the mad wolf that you are!"
The boys in the general store pleaded with Gawk not to go up against a man he had no chance against, but Larkin was 'blind' crazy as the accumulated weight of Fowler's lies and insults caused something in his head to burst. .
Fowler and Larkin strode outside, followed by the crowd, buzzing like agitated bees.
Less than a minute after Gawk fell mortally wounded into the dust of Front Street, Mr. Bassett came running out of the Long Branch and confronted the shooter.
Front Street 1880
"So you finally got Gawk Larkin to draw on you," screamed Mr. Bassett as he smashed the back of his hand across Fowler's face. Fowler reeled from the meaty paw of the Dodge sheriff; a crimson wave coming from an angry red welt on his cheek.
"You can't do nothing to me Sheriff. It was a fair fight. Rath saw it. So did everybody else in the shop", whined Fowler who seemed near tears as he pressed his palm to his face to staunch the flow of blood.
"You're a rotten liar Lute. You have been trying to goad Gawk into throwing down on you for months and everybody in town knows it. You got him liquored up and forced his hand. Larkin was no gunfighter. He was a bookish man. I ought to make you draw on me right now. Go on DRAW! DRAW I SAID!!! I SAID DRAW ON ME FOWLER!!!!"
Mr. Bassett suddenly stopped shouting and whispered, "Either that or I'm going to beat you to death right now with my hands."
Fowler tried to avoid it but the big right fist of Charlie Bassett caught him flush in the gut, lifting him off his feet and forcing all the wind out of him like a Kansas twister. His boots came back to the ground just as the sheriff’s left hook smashed into his already battered cheek. Lute fell to the ground in a defensive fetal position. Mr. Bassett got on his knees and was wildly flaying Fowler's face when myself and a half dozen cowpokes pulled him off, leaving Fowler senseless, battered, and bloody.