Will kicked the pistol that dropped from Maurice’s hand across the floor before looking at Lucy, huddled in the corner of the room. Her mouth and nose were swollen and her clothes were torn from her captor’s abusive attempts to conquer her. She didn’t get up at once, just gazed at him until slowly, huge tears welled in her eyes. After a moment, she spoke when he walked over and extended his hand to help her up. “I’m glad he didn’t get to see me cry,” she said, defiantly. Then she looked up at Will. “I thought he was gonna kill me.” She put her arms around him and gave him a tight squeeze, like a mother hugs her child. “Thanks, Will, thanks for coming.”
He didn’t know what to say, so he held her by the shoulders while he took a look at her damaged face. “We might better get Doc Peters to take a look at those bruises,” he said. “First, I reckon I’d better take care of ol’ Maurice, here, before he takes a notion to wake up.”
“I don’t know,” Lucy said, already beginning to regain some of her confidence. “He went down pretty hard, and he cracked his head on my good side table. I was hopin’ he was gonna talk himself to sleep before you came, ’cause he drank almost all of a quart of whiskey.”
“I’ll haul him outta here,” Will said. He grabbed Maurice’s boots and dragged him out the door into the hallway. “I swear, he weighs a ton.” He dragged him to the top of the stairs and then down several steps before he managed to take his arms and, using the angle of the steps, pulled the limp body over to settle on his shoulder. Gus ran up the steps to help him turn around and steady him as he carried his burden downstairs. “I reckon that’s his horse at the rail,” Will said. “It was the only one there when I came in.”
“Stop just a second,” Gus said. “Lemme look in his pockets to see if he’s got any money to pay for some of the damage he did.”
“Well, hurry up,” Will said. “He ain’t gettin’ any lighter.
He carried the unconscious man outside, and with Gus’s help, plopped him across his saddle, just as Deputy Johnny Sikes walked up. Sikes watched silently until the body was resting on the horse. “Will,” he said, and nodded. “A feller came in the office and said he thought there was some trouble down here.”
“There was,” Gus answered. “There ain’t now.”
“His name’s Maurice Cowart,” Will said, and told Sikes what had happened, what Maurice had done to Lucy, and the damage he had done to the saloon. “So I reckon you might wanna put him in your jail for a while till he sobers up. Then you might wanna warn him not to come near the Mornin’ Glory or Lucy Tyler again.”
“I expect so,” Johnny replied. “I’ll take care of him, and much obliged.”
Gus stood with Will for a few moments, watching Johnny untie Maurice’s reins from the rail and lead the horse back up the street toward the jail. Then they went back inside to help Lucy. “I’ll walk you down to Doc Peters’s to let him take a look at you,” Will offered when he saw Mammy cleaning the blood from Lucy’s face.
“No need for that,” Lucy said. “Mammy’s took care of me before. This ain’t the first time I’ve been punched by a loudmouth drunk, besides, Doc Peters has already gone home by now.”
“Suit yourself,” Will said. “You’re in pretty good hands with Mammy, especially if she’s half as good a doctor as she is a cook,” he added, primarily to please Mammy. The only acknowledgment he received from the scrawny little woman was a snort of indifference. “I reckon I’ll say good evenin’, then.” He nodded to Gus, then looked at Lucy again when she called his name.
“Thank you again, Will,” she said. “When you come back, I’ll owe you a drink, or supper. And anything else you might want,” she added wistfully.
“’Preciate it, Lucy, but you don’t owe me anything. I’m just glad I could help a friend.”
* * *
He found Sophie waiting for him in the parlor when he returned and he knew without asking that he was in trouble. The frown she greeted him with seemed to be permanently etched on her face. “Trouble at the Mornin’ Glory,” he offered weakly. “I don’t know why Gus didn’t call the sheriff instead of me.” She said nothing, but continued to stare at him with eyes as cold as ice. “Fellow named Maurice,” he continued bravely, “shot a hole in the window and mighta killed somebody, if he wasn’t stopped. Had to put him in jail—got back as soon as I could.”
When he paused, finished with his explanation, she continued to stare icily at him for a long moment before asking, “Is Lucy Tyler all right?”
“What? Oh . . . yeah, she’s all right, got roughed up a little, but she’s all right.” He had hoped Lucy’s name wouldn’t come up, but evidently Ron or Leonard had told Sophie what they had overheard on the porch. He would have preferred that she not know that he had been summoned primarily because Lucy was in danger, but now that he was facing her cold accusation, he decided it was time to stop acting like he was guilty of something. “Look, Sophie, Lucy Tyler’s a friend of mine, that’s all. I ain’t one of her customers, I never have been. I’ve also got other friends that are on the wrong side of the law.” Oscar Moon came to mind. “But they ain’t got nothin’ to do with you and me, and I sure as hell ain’t had nothin’ to do with any woman but you. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you’ll keep thoughts like that outta your pretty head.”
She continued to look him hard in the eye, until she had to smile. It was the first time he had shown any side of himself other than an innocent confusion in her presence. “All right,” she said, “I accept it.” She took his hand then and led him to the sofa. “I just hope you’re going to be home for a while this time.”
“I hope so, too,” he said. “I reckon I’ll find out when I report in to Dan in the mornin’.” She raised an eyebrow at the remark, but gave him a big smile. The rest of his evening was spent listening to the plans she had for their wedding. When they finally said good night, he was finding it hard to believe it was going to happen to him. He could only imagine the look on Miss Jean Hightower’s face when she heard the news. Will could imagine it would seem to her like her son was taking a wife. As for Shorty and the boys at the J-Bar-J in Texas, they wouldn’t believe it until he showed up with Sophie on a lead rope.
WILLIAM W. JOHNSTONE is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over 300 books, including the series Preacher, the First Mountain Man, MacCallister, Luke Jensen, Bounty Hunter, Flintlock, Those Jensen Boys!, Savage Texas, Matt Jensen, the Last Mountain Man, and The Family Jensen. His thrillers include Tyranny, Stand Your Ground, Suicide Mission, and Black Friday.
Visit his website at www.williamjohnstone.net.
Being the all-around assistant, typist, researcher, and fact-checker to one of the most popular western authors of all time, J. A. JOHNSTONE learned from the master, Uncle William W. Johnstone.
The elder Johnstone began tutoring J.A. at an early age. After-school hours were often spent retyping manuscripts or researching his massive American Western History library as well as the more modern wars and conflicts. J.A. worked hard—and learned.
“Every day with Bill was an adventure story in itself. Bill taught me all he could about the art of storytelling. ‘Keep the historical facts accurate,’ he would say. ‘Remember the readers—and as your grandfather once told me, I am telling you now: Be the best J. A. Johnstone you can be.’”
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