The Devils Meet at High Noon

The woman rode toward the town on a white horse. She came from the desert. She rode alone except for the horse. And as she rode into town, the Lord of the Flies could see the woman’s holsters were empty.

“We should be cautious,” the Lord of the Flies said to the sheriff.

“Cautious of a woman, deputy?” the sheriff said. “I’ll be goddamned. I thought you had some balls on you.” The sheriff twisted his white mustache on both sides then leaned against the railing of the porch, pressing his gut all up on it. “You know who this is then?”

“It’s been a long time,” the Lord of the Flies said. “I cannot be sure.”

“Well, there ain’t a woman in this town that needs caution, I can tell you that. Not a woman in this goddamned nation. Look at her, even a woman with holsters ain’t capable of carrying a gun.”

The Lord of the Flies held his tongue. He rested his hand on his own gun and watched the woman approach.

“Deputy, go on inside and lock up,” the sheriff said. “Make sure none of them make a noise or they're gonna regret it. We’ll see what this bitch wants.”

The Lord of the Flies was quick about it, worried to let the woman leave his sight. He stepped inside, did as he was told, and returned to the sheriff’s side as they walked to meet the woman.

The woman smiled from atop her horse. As she got closer, she saw the eyes watching from windows, the men standing and spitting from doorways, and the sheriff doing a poor imitation of a powerful man. She saw the man behind the sheriff. She smiled even wider at him, and she hoped he saw it.

This town didn’t want her here. And that fired her up more than a jug of whiskey.

The sheriff and deputy met the woman at the edge of town. They had to look up at her on the horse. And then, with the sun behind the riders’ backs, the sheriff and deputy had to squint. She dismounted, and her white horse didn’t think about running off nowhere.

“Ain’t never seen a woman with hostlers,” the sheriff said.

“I ain’t a woman,” the woman said.

The sheriff spit. “Well, I ain’t ever seen a woman that ain’t a woman either, and we like that even less here.”

The woman laughed.

The Lord of the Flies glared at her. He tightened his collar up to the top button. He was cold, even in this heat.

“Want to tell him what I am, Fly Lord?” she said.

The sheriff raised his eyebrow at his deputy.

“She is a cheat,” the Lord of the Flies said.

“Oh, so y’all got a history then,” the sheriff said.

“Don’t let him get to you, sheriff,” the woman said. “Bee has a stick so far up his ass, it’s a wonder he don’t choke on it.”

The Lord of the Flies spoke to the woman. “Why are you here? I was told you were excommunicated.”

“See what I mean,” she said, shaking her head at the sheriff.

“If you’re here by your own will,” the Lord of the Flies said, “then you’re only interfering.”

“Deputy, when have I ever suggested turning pretty women away is our policy? Excommunicated or not, we don’t need our women religious here.”

The woman smiled big, pushing past charming and into unsettling. “I already said I ain’t a woman. As for religion, I’m a big believer. Seen the big man with my own eyes.”

“Your behavior is bordering on blasphemous.” The Lord of the Flies gestured to the town behind him. “This operation is sanctioned. Your interference will warrant punishment beyond excommunication."

“Got me shaking in my boots, Mr. Fly.”

“If the pretty lady wants to stay,” the sheriff said, “I get to decide if that’s all right. Not you.”

“Ain’t you a real sweety?” The woman pointed to her right. “Y’all got a town north of here about—what?—dozen miles or so?”

“That’s right. Friends of ours.”

“I bet.” She took her finger and pointed in the opposite direction. “And there’s a train station five miles that way. Last week eight women arrived by train from—believe it or not—New York. And they were supposed to meet up with folks—” she pointed in the opposite direction with her other hand “—from that town up north.”

“All the way from New York?” the sheriff said. “Hell, I ain’t convinced New York’s a real place, let alone accessible by train.”

“Here’s the part that gets me teary eyed.” But the woman’s smile looked too hungry for tears. “Those eight women didn’t make it to their final destination.”

“Shoot, you’re gonna get me misty eyed too.”

“And guess what the only thing is between the town and the train.”

“Well, we ain’t really got a nice map here.”

The woman moved her fingers so they pointed at the sheriff. “Well, it’s y’all.”

“What do you think you’re getting at, miss?”

The Lord of the Flies stepped forward. “Azazel, I command you to leave.”

The woman looked skyward, waiting. When nothing happened, she returned her smile to the Lord.

“Time was a demon’s command used to mean something,” the woman said. “Tell me the great Beelzebub ain’t been excommunicated too, has he?”

“We have a new way of doing things. I’m sure you with your history wouldn’t understand subtlety but—”

“I don’t care,” she said. “Are the women here?”

“Which women?” the sheriff said. “You’re here. That’s enough for me.”

“Whether they are here or not is irrelevant. Everything I am doing here is sanctioned.” The Lord of the Flies landed on that final word as with a blacksmith’s hammer.

“Permission don’t get you too far out here,” the woman said. “You really gotta back it up.”

His eyes flashed to her empty holster.

“Why don’t you come on inside?” the sheriff said. “See about getting you a drink.”

She ignored the sheriff. “I got something you’re going to like, Bee. I got a deal to offer you.”

For the first time, the Lord of the Flies showed emotion, raising a single eyebrow. Even though the woman was the enemy, he had to ask. “What is it? What’s the deal?”

“We ain’t interested in no deal, miss. But if you wanna come inside, have some liquor, get comfortable…”

“There’s a wagon train coming north,” she said. “Ran into them a few days back. I told them this town here was a good place to resupply. Lots of women in this wagon train, since y’all got a fascination. A few men. Just one gunslinger. When they get here, it won’t take y’all much effort to kill the men and take the women.”

Despite himself, the sheriff looked back at his deputy.

“What do you want in return?” the Lord of the Flies said.

All those eyes in those windows—they were still looking. The woman wondered at the thoughts behind those eyes. It seemed like mostly fear. Not fear because of the gift she had brought humanity all those centuries ago. The gift that got her excommunicated. That would be worth fearing her for. But no, they were afraid because she was an outsider and that was all.

“I want those women y’all got,” she said.

“We ain’t got them,” the sheriff said. “And you pressing on like this is liable to insult me.”

“You’re proposing a trade?” the Lord of the Flies said.

“Nope,” she said. “A challenge. Winner takes all.”

“How do we decide the victor?”

“Same as it’s been forever. Even before man.” She patted her empty holster. “A duel.”

“Women can’t duel.” The sheriff laughed, and his belly seemed to laugh with him.

“I was thinking something similar about fat men with greasy mustaches."

The sheriff put his hand on his gun, but the Lord of the Flies stopped him.

“Are you skilled with your weapon, sheriff?”

“An insult from this woman is one thing, deputy. But don’t you go insulting me too. Can shoot a whisker off a cat a mile away.”

The woman knew it was an exaggeration. But maybe not by much. Out here, good shooting is what turned men into leaders. Good shooting was all that mattered.

“Then we should take the deal,” the Lord of the Flies said.

“Don’t believe a word this lying bitch says.”

The Lord of the Flies knew it was best to despise the woman, Azazel. She had brought the first weapons to man. First clubs then steel and eventually guns, weapons only intended to be used in the divine wars. How many lives had been lost because she had stolen from heaven and given to earth? Her banishment was not punishment enough.

But calling this fallen angel a bitch, worse, a liar, was a mistake. For now, the Lord of the Flies had to hold his tongue.

Instead of rebuking the sheriff, the Lord of the Flies said: “She cannot lie when it comes to deals.”

“Your deputy is unfortunately right,” she said. “Let’s make it happen, sheriff. You and me. For the women. If you ain’t too much of a coward.”

“Gladly,” the sheriff said. “With your manners, I won’t have a problem putting you down. You ain’t much of a lady.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“We’ll put it to paper,” the Lord of the Flies said.

“For this, Bee? You want a contract for this?”

“You would never have been able to open heaven’s arsenal if a proper contract had been in place.” And suddenly the Lord of the Flies was holding a long piece of parchment. “It’s your willingness to cheat that gets you into trouble, Azazel.”

“And hey, for you, it’s your willingness to imprison innocent women.” She shrugged. “But we leave the judging to God, don’t we.”

“And he judged you excommunicated.” The Lord of the Flies looked over the parchment. His face showed no emotion. “At noon today, the once angel, Azazel, will duel the sheriff of this town with pistols ten paces from each other according to the traditional rules of dueling. The winner will decide the fates of the women kept in this town and the wagon train en route.” He looked between the sheriff and the woman. “Are the terms agreeable?”

“What’s that in there about an angel?” the sheriff said.

The woman brushed past the sheriff and took the document. She signed the paper with a feather pen that she plucked from nowhere.

“Like I said sheriff, if you’re too frightened—”

“Give it to me.” The sheriff snatched the contract away with pudgy hands. He signed it. When he looked up from the paper, there was a hole in his head.

He took a step back. He tried to look around but his head didn’t move right.

The woman had heard the gunshot, but she was oblivious as to where it had come from. She didn’t even see the Lord of the Flies move until he was holstering his gun. The sheriff finally fell over.

The Lord of the Flies bent over the body. He shook the contract and it puffed away in a cloud of smoke. Then he removed the sheriff’s pin and attached it to his own shirt.

“The sheriff has died,” the Lord of the Flies said, standing. “As his deputy, I am forced to fill his role as sheriff. It is an unfortunate turn of events, but there it is.” He looked up at the sun directly above them. “As per our agreement, I am ready to duel you.”

The woman couldn’t pull her eyes from the corpse and the bleeding hole in its head. She had heard tales of the Lord of the Flies aptitude for gunslinging. But this was something else. This was a demon reminding the world why it was called such. She hadn’t even seen him move.

“Where’d you learn to shoot?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. She wasn’t prepared to die today.

“The question is not ‘where’ but ‘why.’ And the answer to that is you.” The Lord of the Flies looked at her with less emotion than the dead sheriff. “Through deceit and lies, through cheating, you brought these weapons to man. You put the rest of us in a difficult position. We refuse to disregard the rules like you.” He patted his gun. “We have to work with what we’re given. Let’s just say, I’ve been really looking forward to this.”

“So this is just petty revenge? Ain’t got nothing to do with the women?”

“It certainly does,” the Lord of the Flies said. “Women are the backbone of this country’s expansion. They work the home. They bear children. Seamstresses. Farmers. Shop keepers. Whores. We need them all to bring Manifest Destiny to fruition. And usually, the women are smart enough not to kill each other in duels. An evolutionary step above the men in that regard. It brings a smile to my face that you are the exception.” There was no smile on his face.

Everyday the woman had not spent shooting now felt like a waist. If she had known her entire life—thousands of years now—would lead to this, she would have spent the time in preparation, in the hope for a thousand more. The most important days of your life were the ones you didn’t die.

“Where do you think we go after this?” the woman said. Was there an afterlife for the angels? What about the angels like her?

“I don’t care,” the Lord of the Flies said. He craned his neck to look at the sky from beneath his wide brim hat. “If noon passes, we will breach the contract and suffer greatly for it.”

Despite the woman’s history, she had once been an angel like him. And he understood her passion. Those who could not see the greater good would of course see imprisoning and trafficking the women as cruel. But there was little to be done against God’s will. The Lord of the Flies was a tool for that will. Sometimes he even believed in it.

Still, he really was itching to shoot her.

“Will you need a weapon?” the Lord of the Flies said.

The woman gripped the air and a six-shooter materialized in her hand. It was an exact copy of the Fly Lord’s. She slid it into her holster.

“Do you need to reload?” she said.

“No,” he said. He turned his back to her and clapped his boots together. “Back to back and ten paces out.”

She could not help but laugh a little. “That’s a bit old fashioned.”

“Anything less than the official rules and we breach the contract.”

She shook her head, but put her back against him. What did it matter? Ten paces or a thousand, he could out shoot her with any rules.

“One,” the Lord of the Flies said as he took his first step for the greater good. “Two.” His boots crunched the dirt road. “Three.” The sun baked everything, and the heat made the sheriff’s corpse smell. “Four.” No. The Fly Lord was the sheriff now. “Five.” He would be the one to lead the nation west. “Six.” Conquer a new frontier.

The Lord of the Flies paused. He looked down to see a hole in his black shirt. Then came the blood. There was another shot and another hole appeared.

He reached for his gun and another bullet took him in the leg. As he fell, a shot to his shoulder spun him onto his back.

The woman had not moved from her starting place. The Lord of the Flies wanted to speak but there was blood in his throat. The woman seemed to know what was coming, but her face only showed resolution.

The text from the contract began to appear on her arms and neck, the ink stretching up to her face. Then she burst into flames. The fallen angel reached her head back and screamed.

What awaited her was unimaginable. Yet she had done it anyway, cheated. The Lord of the Flies was dying. Even as the woman burned, he couldn’t help but curse her.

Without guidance, how long before these town folk tore themselves apart? How long before all of western expansion came to a halt?

How long before those women realized they were finally free, returned to their families, went home? She had done this for them afterall.

Azazel writhed in the sand, kicking her legs. Her clothes and hair had already burned away. Her skin was taking longer, but it was only a matter of time before it bubbled off.

All this for some people she had never met?

The Lord of the Flies laid back. He closed his eyes. It might be good to get some rest.