Jayce froze, his hand still a couple of inches away from the butt of his gun. He glanced up at Angus's solemn face, then looked at Cully. The deputy was poised in the gunfighter's half crouch, his hand hovering over his pearl-handled Colt. Jayce swallowed and slowly moved his outspread fingers away from his gun.
"Aye, ye'd have been dead by now, had I not stopped ye," Angus told him.
Cully drew a deep breath and forced himself to relax. He straightened and said, "Why don't you pick yourself up, mister, and apologize to the ladies?"
Slowly Jayce climbed to his feet and brushed some of the dust off his clothes. Without meeting the eyes of the Stockbridge sisters, he muttered, "Reckon I'm sorry if I offended you."
Elizabeth smiled. "Oh, that's all right."
Hannah said nothing.
"Now get your friend off the sidewalk and out of here," Cully went on, gesturing to the sprawled shape of Emil. The young cowboy was still out cold.
"Sure, sure," Jayce said. He went past Cully and grabbed Emil under the arms, awkwardly lifting him and steering him into the Old Fruit Saloon. Inside quite a few men had been watching the fight through the window, and now they gathered around Jayce to slap him on the back.
Cully shook his head and went over to the others. "I'm sorry you ladies had to see that," he said. "Abilene's not always so rough."
"Don’t worry about that," Elizabeth assured him. "It was positively thrilling. It was just like watching Wild Bill Hickok taming the town."
"Not hardly." Cully grinned. "Come on. Maybe we can get to the hotel without any more wars breaking out." As they started down the boardwalk again, Cully said dryly to Angus, "Thanks for the help back there. I mean, pitching in right away when those yahoos first jumped me."
"Ye looked like ye had the situation well in hand." Angus grinned back at him. "And I did'na let the varmint shoot ye."
Cully chuckled and rubbed his knuckles.
When they reached the Grand Palace Hotel, Cully handled the checking-in while Elizabeth and Hannah looked around the lobby. Elizabeth was quite obviously unimpressed. She was undoubtedly accustomed to much more luxury.
Cully engaged a room for the sisters, one for Nicholas Stockbridge, and one for Roland Stockbridge. That exhausted the supply of available rooms, except for a small chamber in back of the lobby that was sometimes used for storage. There was a cot in it.
"We can take that one for Elliott," Elizabeth said as she strolled over to the desk in time to hear the last of the conversation between Cully and the clerk.
"It'll have to do," Cully said.
Angus started up the stairs, carrying the bags to the rooms. Footsteps on the boardwalk outside drew Cully's attention. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Flint and the other men passing in front of the lobby window. They entered the lobby through the open doors of the hotel.
Nicholas Stockbridge immediately strode over to his daughters and asked, "Have the rooms been engaged?"
"Yes, Father," Hannah answered. "Mr. MacQuarrie is taking some of the bags up now."
"Good, good." Stockbridge nodded. "You girls go on up. We'll join you later."
Elizabeth turned to Cully and said, "I'm sure I'll be seeing you later, Deputy Markham. Be careful now. The next time you apprehend a desperado, I want to see it."
Cully grinned at her. "I'll see what I can do about that," he said.
The two young women disappeared up the stairs, and Stockbridge growled, "I could use a drink." He took a cigar from an inside pocket of his coat and placed it in his mouth, waiting for Pannier to strike a match and light it for him.
Angus was coming back down the stairs. He heard Stockbridge's statement and said, "Tis not fancy, but me tavern serves the best Scotch whisky ye'll find, Mr. Stockbridge."
"Sounds good to me," Stockbridge said. With Roland and Pannier following him, he walked out of the hotel with Angus.
"Any trouble getting over here?" Flint asked Cully in a quiet voice.
Cully shrugged. "Not much. Little fracas with a couple of cowboys who'd been drinking too much. I handled it."
"And Miss Elizabeth probably enjoyed watching."
"That she did." Cully grinned. "I think she likes me, Marshal."
Flint pushed back his hat. "I guess you know she's engaged to that Pannier fellow," he said.
Cully frowned. "Engaged?" he exclaimed. "To that jasper who looks like a pencil pusher?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Well, I'll be," Cully said, shaking his head ruefully. "You'd never know it, to hear her talk."
"Just watch your step around her," Flint warned him. "Her father's a very important man and probably expects his daughter will be treated well. I'm going back to the office now, and you'd probably better get some sleep."
"Sounds like a good idea."
Flint nodded and left the hotel lobby. Cully was a few steps behind him, and he was about to move through the doors when he heard a voice softly calling his name.
He turned to see Elizabeth Stockbridge coming down the stairs. She had removed her hat and the jacket of her traveling outfit, revealing a lacy white blouse. She was thoroughly lovely, Cully thought.
As she came up to him, she said, "I was wondering if it might be possible for us to have dinner together tonight, Cully. You could tell me some more about Abilene's history and perhaps show me some of the sights."
"Well, ma'am, that sounds very nice," Cully replied, thinking rapidly. The knowledge that Elizabeth was engaged and that her fiancé was only a few doors away made him uncomfortable. "But I'm not sure it would be a good idea."
"Why in the world wouldn't it be?" Elizabeth demanded, looking up at him and cocking her head slightly to one side.
"Miss Elizabeth, I'm not altogether sure we should even be talking like this, what with you being engaged and all. Your fiancé’s right over at Angus's having a drink."
"Elliott?" Elizabeth asked, waving off Cully's objection. "If Elliott is having a drink, it's probably milk. He's a dear, sweet man who will make an excellent husband for me, but he is rather boring. Not at all like you, Deputy Markham." Her voice purred seductively as she finished. She reached out and placed a fingernail against the badge on Cully's chest. Cully took a deep breath. He said, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'll just have to pass. I expect Marshal Flint will have me working tonight, anyway:"
"All right." Elizabeth pouted. "If that's the way you feel. There is one thing you can do for me, though—quit calling me ma'am! It makes me sound old!"
With that, she turned and flounced up the stairs.
Cully watched her for a long moment, then glanced over at the desk where the clerk was standing with a smirk on his face. "What are you looking at?" Cully demanded.
Without waiting for an answer, he turned and stalked out of the lobby.
3
Long shadows spilled across the covers of the narrow bed as Cully woke from a deep sleep. Turning over and looking around the little room he rented, he groaned. His sore, stiff muscles had not recovered from the arduous ride out to the train wreck and back.
Slowly he sat up, swung his legs off the bed, and went to the window, wearing only the bottoms of his long johns. As he pushed back the flap of canvas that served as a curtain, he saw that the sun was just slipping below the horizon. He had slept for only four or five hours.
That wasn’t long enough, but as he stretched, Cully thought he might be able to function now. He would feel better after he ate a hot meal and drank some strong black coffee. He pulled on his clothes, closed the door to his rented room, and walked to the Red Top Café.
Inside the clean, brightly lit café, the fragrance of fresh bread and brewing coffee greeted him. As he settled down at one of the tables with its red-checked tablecloth, a pretty, teenage girl with softly waving auburn hair hurried over to the table. She wore an apron and greeted Cully with a big smile.
"Hello, Cully," Alice Hammond said. "What can I get for you?"
Cully grinned back her. Alice had come to Abil
ene not long before he arrived. She and her brother Patrick were orphans, part of the group living at the orphanage established by a Dominican nun named Sister Lorraine. The orphanage was housed in the big parsonage of the Calvary Methodist Church, which was pastored by Cully's brother, the Reverend Joshua Markham. Cully had known almost from the first time they met that Alice had a crush on him. He liked her, too.
But as he looked at her eager young face, he couldn’t help but contrast her fresh, well-scrubbed attractiveness with Elizabeth Stockbridge's glamour. Compared to Elizabeth, Alice was just a pretty kid.
But Elizabeth was betrothed to Elliott Pannier, and that meant Cully would have to watch his step around her. Maybe the Stockbridges wouldn’t have to wait in Abilene for long. A part of Cully hoped that would be the case.
"You just bring me a steak and a heap of potatoes, Alice, and plenty of coffee," Cully said.
The food was good, as usual, and by the time he had finished, Cully felt revived. Alice had to wait on the cafe's other customers, but she managed to stop by his table several times to make sure he didn’t need anything else.
She also asked about the train wreck, having heard that Cully had ridden out to the scene with the rescue party. The deputy worded his replies carefully so as not to horrify the young woman too much. Alice's life had been hard at times, and she was no stranger to violence, but the carnage at the crash site had been truly awful.
By the time Cully had paid for his meal and stepped out of the cafe onto the boardwalk, Texas Street was shrouded in dusk. The deputy glanced toward the marshal's office, diagonally across Texas Street, and saw the warm yellow glow of a lantern coming through the window. Flint was probably inside at his desk, and Cully knew he should walk over and relieve the marshal. Flint would be hungry and want to get some supper himself.
Before he could step into the street, someone hailed him from the next block. In the dim light Cully recognized Elliott Pannier coming toward him. The easterner had obviously just left the Grand Palace Hotel.
"Evening," Cully said pleasantly as Pannier came up to him. "You and the rest of the folks get settled in all right?"
"Yes, indeed," Pannier replied. "I'm afraid Elizabeth is not too happy about the accommodations, but that comes as no surprise."
The bluntness of Pannier's statement made Cully raise an eyebrow. "I suppose she’s used to better places than Abilene."
Pannier laughed and said, "Elizabeth is accustomed to the best of everything, which makes me wonder why she ever agreed to marry me."
"I heard that the two of you are engaged," Cully said. "Congratulations."
"Thank you. It could be that her father had something to do with her decision. I've been working for him for a long time. Probably over the years I've saved him quite a bit of money, finding more efficient ways to do things. That's my job, Deputy Markham. Perhaps Elizabeth's hand in marriage could be regarded as a sort of bonus."
Cully frowned. "That's a heck of a way to put it," he said.
Pannier's demeanor changed instantly. "Don’t get me wrong, Deputy. I care about Elizabeth, I really do. I care deeply. But...I am aware of my limitations. I'm not a handsome man."
There was nothing Cully could say to that.
Pannier took a deep breath. "Well, I didn't stop you so that we could discuss my personal life. I wanted to ask you if the marshal has had any further word from the scene of the crash. Mr. Stockbridge is quite concerned, as you can imagine."
"I don't know," Cully told him. "I've been asleep all afternoon. I was just going to the office now. You're welcome to come along."
"Thanks." Pannier joined Cully as the deputy started across the street. The traffic on Texas Street was much lighter in the early evening, but horses and wagons still moved on the road. The sounds of laughter and music came from the saloons. Pannier went on, "Elizabeth seems quite taken with you, Deputy. She told me about those inebriated cowboys and the way you handled them."
Cully shrugged. "That wasn't much of a fracas, although it seems Miss Elizabeth thought it was. She's just never seen much of life outside of the East."
"Perhaps. But even Hannah said that your display of fisticuffs was outstanding."
Cully shrugged again but made no reply. They had reached the opposite boardwalk. He stepped up and pushed open the door of the marshal's office.
As Cully had expected, Lucas Flint was at his desk. He glanced up from the pile of papers he was working on, saw who the newcomers were, and leaned back in his chair. He smiled at Cully. "Feeling better now?" he asked.
Returning the smile, Cully hung his hat on one of the hooks just inside the door. "Tolerable," he said.
"Hello, Mr. Pannier," Flint went on. "Something I can do for you?"
"Mr. Stockbridge was wondering if you'd received any further word from the site of the wreck."
Flint's face grew solemn. "As a matter of fact, I have. Dr. Keller and the last of the injured passengers returned just a little while ago. Nobody else has died, but a few of those folks are in pretty bad shape."
"What about the other passengers?" Pannier asked.
"They came back, too, some riding on the wagons and others riding double with the men in the rescue party. Most of them are looking for places to stay, those that don't have relatives here in Abilene. I imagine you'll see some of them over at the hotel. There's going to be a lot of doubling up until we can make arrangements for them to continue on their way."
"That's one thing I wanted to speak to you about. Mr. Stockbridge would like to hire some wagons and horses and have the passengers taken to Wichita. They can catch the Missouri Pacific there and continue their journeys westward."
Flint nodded. "That's a nice gesture on Stockbridge's part."
"He feels a measure of responsibility. The bandits were undoubtedly after the strongbox that they believed to be on that train," Pannier pointed out.
Flint rubbed a thumb over his jaw in thought. "Just how do you think Wolfe and his gang found out about that money?" he asked.
Pannier shook his head. "I wish I knew the answer to that, Marshal. We worked hard to keep the shipment of money a secret, but it was impossible to conceal it from everyone. Quite a few people connected with the rail line either knew what that strongbox contained or could have guessed. Perhaps we can find out when Wolfe is apprehended."
"You're assuming he will be," Cully said. "Lawmen all over this part of the country haven't been able to catch him yet."
"I have confidence in the authorities," Pannier stated. He nodded to Flint. "I'll pass on this latest information to Mr. Stockbridge, Marshal. Thank you."
"Sure," Flint said easily. "Wish I could be more help."
Pannier left, closing the door behind him. Cully went to the stove in the corner of the office and filled a tin cup from the pot of coffee simmering there. He sat down in one of the straight-backed chairs and leaned it against the wall.
"Sort of a strange fellow," he said, then sipped at the coffee.
"Pannier? He's an easterner. Seems like a good enough sort, though."
Cully nodded. "I don't think he's as big a stuffed shirt as he seems. He's just got his head full of his work." The deputy grinned. "He probably ought to pay more attention to that gal of his."
Flint picked up a sheaf of papers from the desk and squared them. He frowned. "I hope you've been steering clear of Elizabeth Stockbridge," he said. "Getting mixed up with a woman like that could cause you a lot of grief, Cully. Especially one who's supposed to be getting married to somebody else."
"I never broke up anybody's engagement yet, Marshal, and I don't plan on starting now," Cully assured him. "I sort of like Pannier, even if he is an odd bird."
Even as he spoke the words, though, Cully was aware of the strong attraction that he felt for Elizabeth Stockbridge. He knew quite well that she was spoiled and vain and out of place here on the frontier, but at the same time, he had felt definite sparks passing between them. To her, he was the embodiment of all that was glam
orous and exciting about the West, and there was no denying the appeal of her beauty and charm to him.
Flint pushed his chair back, the legs scraping on the planks of the floor. As he stood up, he said, "If you're all right, I suppose I'll go get some supper. You can watch the office for a while, can't you?"
"Sure, Marshal. I ate just before I came over here."
Flint reached for his hat hanging on one of the pegs and settled it on his head. He lifted his gun belt from the same peg and strapped it around his lean hips. "I think I'll walk down to the Drover's Cottage," he said. "A juicy piece of roast beef sounds awfully good right now. That's where I'll be, if anybody comes looking for me."
Cully nodded, and Flint went out. The deputy rose and went to sit behind the marshal's desk. The stack of papers Flint had been examining lay on the desk; Cully picked them up in idle curiosity and saw they were new wanted posters that had probably arrived in today's mail. He began to shuffle through them, his interest growing as he studied the sketches of the desperadoes depicted on them.
During the quarter of an hour that passed while he scanned the posters, there were no visitors to the office. The cells in the cellblock were empty. The whole building was quiet, so quiet that it began to get on Cully's nerves a bit. He opened the desk drawer to put the reward posters away.
The door swung open as he did so. He caught a whiff of perfume even before he looked up to see Elizabeth Stockbridge standing there. She had changed her clothes and was now wearing a stylish blue gown more suited to dining than traveling. She had rearranged her hair, the thick raven curls falling softly around her shoulders, and she wore no hat.
"Good evening, Cully," she said. She closed the door behind her and leaned back against it for a moment. A smile played over her full red lips.
Cully's eyes narrowed. "Howdy, Miss Stockbridge," he said cautiously. "Something I can do for you?"
"You can call me Elizabeth. And you can tell me why you're not happy to see me."
Cully shut the desk drawer. "I am happy to see you, Elizabeth. It's just that I told you earlier I'm not sure how proper it is for us to be talking together."
Rattler's Law, Volume One Page 43
