by April Hill
Will shrugged. “You’re out of luck, then,” he advised. “Even most of the adults in this town can’t read and write more than what it takes to get by. And people with kids don’t stick around, long. Big Dooley’s a trail stop, and not much else.”
Alex couldn’t have explained why she had begun telling this man such egregious lies, other than out of fear, or maybe shame. She was convinced that Cameron didn’t pose a threat, but for reasons she couldn’t understand, she didn’t want him to know what she was, or what she had been. She didn’t want him to know about Denver, and about all the sordid things she’d done in her life.
The truth was, she would have jumped at the chance to work in a whorehouse or a saloon, if it hadn’t been for the danger of running into Jack. Not as a whore, she thought bitterly. Even she hadn’t reached that point–yet. In any town, though, however seedy, the saloons and whorehouses and gambling houses were where the money was–large amounts of it, in free circulation, and after being two months in Mrs. Peppmueller’s employ, the idea of free flowing money was an attractive one.
But first, she had to get the hell out of Big Dooley Creek.
Alex smiled up at Will, and batted her eyelashes. “Please forgive me if I sounded rude, Mr. Cameron. As you can do doubt imagine, I feel absolutely awful about what I’ve done, and I can assure you that I only did what I did out of desperation. I need to get to California, you see, as quickly as possible.”
When Will smiled, but said nothing, Alex continued.
“Actually, since you’ve been kind enough to offer your help, it’s just occurred to me that perhaps you might be in a position to loan me the money to settle my debt to Mrs. Peppmueller? And just a tiny bit extra, so that I can purchase a ticket to San Francisco? I assure you that I will pay you back, immediately upon my arrival in California. Though temporarily without funds myself, I have wealthy family there, you see.” She batted her eyelashes again. Some years earlier, Alex had learned two things: It never hurt to ask, and to always bat your lashes charmingly at a gentleman while you were asking.
It may not have hurt to ask, but it didn’t work, either. Cameron wasn’t interested in the batting eyelashes, or the buttons she’d undone on her bodice to make her suggestion even more suggestive. His answer was quick and final.
“No thanks. Whenever I take it into my head to throw money away, I generally just toss it down a well somewhere. And who were you planning on as a reference? Your last employer?” He chuckled. “You’ve got gall, lady. I’ll give you that. I don’t know what the judge will do, but from where I’m standing, it sounds like maybe you might even profit from spending a little time in jail. Of course, from what I hear, Judge Feeney is more a hanging judge, and I’d bet my best horse there’s a few folks around here who’d volunteer to yank the rope.”
“That is crude and disgusting!”
“Probably hurts some, too,” he observed with a wink.
And at that exact moment, Judge Wilbur Feeney appeared, more than a little under the weather, and the trial began.
There was only one witness–the plaintiff herself. Mrs Peppmueller immediately suggested a thorough body search and an even more thorough horsewhipping–after which the culprit would, of course, be duly hanged.
“Can’t do it, Arabella,” said the judge. He just wasn’t prepared to hang a woman for simple theft, Judge Feeney explained, although the thorough body search sounded like an excellent idea. Maybe if the accused were to bend over and drop her drawers, he remarked, some evidence of the alleged crime might turn up. “The best I can do for you is to give her jail time, but hell, Big Dooley ain’t even got a proper jail, since Homer Weddle got drunk as a skunk and burned it down. Anyway, since I can’t lock her up here in town, I reckon I’ll just have to haul the lady down to the stockade at Laramie, and see what they want to do with her. Check to see if there’s a warrant on her from somewhere. From the looks of this one, there’s prob’ly a slew of ‘em.”
When Alex went pale, Will stepped in–reluctantly, and against his better judgment. “Hold on a minute,” he interjected hastily. “If it’s just a matter of money, what’s the point of dragging this woman all the way down to Laramie, and …”
“Just a matter of money?” Arabella screeched. “That’s well and good for you, Will Cameron, but it ain’t your hard-earned money’s been wrongfully stole!”
“How much does she owe?” Cameron inquired abruptly. It wasn’t like Will to make hasty decisions, especially about money, but he was about to do just that–and for reasons he didn’t fully understand.
The judge peered over the top of his spectacles at Cameron, obviously suspicious. “And just who might you be, young fella? You got some connection to all this?”
Will shook his head. “Not really. My name’s Will Cameron. I run a small spread up on Wolf Creek. My wife died four years back, and I’ve got a cabin to keep, with two growing children and no school close by. This woman claims she’s been a teacher, and a paid house servant. If it’s necessary, I’d be willing to take on her bond, so she can she can work the debt off at my place. That way, she’d be doing something useful, and not wasting everyone’s time in prison.”
The judge yawned. His morning beverage was taking hold, and the store was beginning to feel overheated and steamy in the summer heat. “Well, now, just wait a minute, boy. There’s still a couple other charges we still gotta deal with. A miner, some muleskinner by the name of Perkins, and Roy Turley, the barber, all claim they come shoppin’ at Peppmueller’s and went home missin’ their wallets. All of ‘em after talking to this very same little lady, here. The miner blew hisself up last week, and there ain’t no actual proof she stole from the rest of ‘em, so there ain’t a whole lot I can do about that. That still leaves what she stole from Miz Peppmueller’s cash box, though, along with two dollars court costs–two meals at twenty five cents each.”
“One meal.” Alex growled, “and I wouldn’t have fed that plate of horseshit to the damned hogs!”
The judge again peered over the top of his spectacles. “Well, now, young lady, I’ll thank you to watch your damned mouth, here in my court. Seems like someone shoulda taken you in hand before now for usin’ that kind a’ language. These is all decent folk, here. If it was up to me, and not the majesty of the law, I’d take down them frilly drawers o’ yours right here and now, and paddle your insolent backside raw! A couple of real hard lickin’s years ago mighta kept you from turnin’ to a life of crime like you done. I always say there’s nothin’ like a good, bare-assed whuppin’ to take an impertinent young lady down a notch or two, and set her on the path to Godliness and redemption–a whuppin’ I’d be only too happy to see get done, right over this here counter. If Miz Peppmueller, here, could see her way clear to lend the court a hairbrush, or maybe a stout razor stop, you can bet your bottom dollar I’d get it done right, and see justice served! But for some fool reason, the laws of the Territory of Wyoming don’t allow me to do what’s needed, and it’s a cryin’ shame.”
By the time Judge Feeney had finished lamenting his inability to dispense justice by baring the perpetrator’s shapely buttocks on the spot and thrashing her within an inch of her misbegotten life, his face was beet red, and it required a quick nip or two from the brown bottle in his pocket to relieve his disappointment.
With a sigh, the judge turned to Will. “All right, young fella. I hope you know what you’re getting into, but since you say you’re willin’ to take her on, so be it. I figure this here criminal inmate owes this poor robbed lady and the court the grand total of one hundred eighteen dollars and eighty-four cents, includin’ my travel expenses of four dollars.”
Cameron blanched, but recovered quickly, and agreed. “All right, I’ll put it up, but that’s a lot of money, Judge. Can I owe some of it? And give you my note for the rest?”
The judge looked over at Mrs. Peppmueller, who consulted with her docile little husband. She made a sour face, but nodded her approval.
“Well, I
’ll allow as how Will Cameron’s always paid his bill prompt-like, when he had one.
Not like most folks around here, that’s for sure. Reckon I ain’t got much choice, now, have I?”
The judge regarded Will carefully. “Well, now, since no one else seems to be steppin’ up to pay this money, and Miz Peppmueller’s willin’ to vouch for you for what’s left owin’, I reckon that’d be all right. Can you pay fifty of it, now, cash on the barrelhead?”
Will blanched. “Yeah. I figure I can do that.”
The judge clapped his hands together. “All right, then, we’ll write us up a proper legal paper. You hand over fifty dollars on account, pay the court its costs and the city for Cora Mae’s fine meals, of course, and the rest, you’ll owe on account to Miz Peppmueller and Gus, here. You’ve got one year to pay off this woman’s indenture. ‘Til it’s paid, she works for you. She don’t look to me like she knows what a hard day’s work is, so you might want to get yourself a good, stout strap, and see if she’ll dance to that tune! If you don’t pay up, she goes back to work for Miz Peppmueller, if the poor lady’ll have her back, that is. If not, the woman goes right to the hoosegow, where she probably belonged, all along. And if she sets foot in this town again, we’ll just see about addin’ a few more charges–or maybe that whuppin’ she’s got comin’ to her. You hear all that, Miss?”
“I heard it,” Alex replied sullenly.
“I don’t much care for your tone, there, missy. You’d best mend your ways, or I might just rethink my fair judgment in this case and send you packin’ to the federal prison down to Laramie, after all. You hear me better, now?”
When Will dealt Alex’s lower leg a small sideways kick, she winced, but provided the proper answer. “Yes, Your Honor. I apologize, and I do understand.”
The judge seemed mollified. “Well now, that’s more like it.” While Judge Feeney bent over the counter to scribble a few words on a sheet of paper, Will retrieved the money from a leather wallet under his shirt, and counted the required amount into the judge’s eager palm.
“How far’d you say this ranch of yours is from town?” the judge asked suddenly, as though the thought had just occurred to him.
“Around twenty miles,” Will replied. “Along the river, then straight west. Unless the river’s high, then I have to go all the way to Cable’s Ford to cross.”
“This cabin of yours only got one sleepin’ room?” the judge asked suspiciously, “Like most of them hardscrabble places?”
Trying not to show his offense at the judge’s description of his small homestead, Will nodded. “There’s a kind of a loft, too. A big one.”
The judge paused, and scratched at the stubble on his chin. “You a good Christian, Mr. Cameron?” he demanded.
Will hesitated. “Good?” he repeated, frowning. “Good enough, probably. I used to go to church as a boy, if that’s what you mean. Yeah, I guess you could say I was. Why?”
“I won’t be back this way ‘til spring, maybe June, if it comes a bad winter. Were you expectin’ to keep this here young woman out there on the open prairie all winter long, into spring, without benefit of clergy?”
Will looked startled. “All she’ll be doing is working for me,” he protested.
“And where’s she gonna be sleepin’ when she ain’t workin’?” the judge bellowed. “In the barn, with your danged cows?”
Will looked confused. “You’re forgetting the loft, where my kids … Oh, and there’s a cot, too. To tell you the truth, I hadn’t thought about where she’d been sleeping, but …”
“Ha!” the judge cried. “I’ll just bet my good black hat you didn’t think about it! You thought you’d put a fast one over on me, I reckon.”
Suddenly, Mrs. Peppmeuller intervened. “There’s some crazy old man livin’ out there, too. A savage. Half naked injun, from what I hear. With them two innocent children in the house! It’s shameful, is what is it is!” Five minutes earlier, Arabella had been looking forward to seeing Alex summarily hanged. Now, she seemed more concerned that her former clerk’s virtue was in jeopardy.
“Look, here!” Will protested, “I never had any intention of …”
Apparently to protect her from being outraged on the spot, Judge Feeney slipped one fat arm around Alex’s waist. When she removed his arm and stepped deftly out of range, though, the judge resumed his tirade with even more vigor.
“I’m not about to send some young woman–even a woman of this one’s low moral character–out into the savage wilderness to be taken in lust by some fast-talkin’ flim-flammer and a no-account injun, especially with two impressionable young’uns there to be corrupted by …”
“All right, then!” Cameron roared. “Just forget the whole damned thing! Keep the woman yourself, you hypocritical old windbag! None of this was my concern in the first place, damn it!” He pushed the judge up against the counter, grabbed his money out of the judge’s sweaty hand, and gave Alex a small shove, pushing her directly into Feeney’s sweaty embrace. Thrusting the cash into his pocket, Will turned on his heel and strode out of the door.
“No!” Alex screamed, seeing her last opportunity for escape slipping away. She backed away from the Judge’s wandering hands, one of which, for some non-judicial reason, was currently fondling her bottom. “Please, Judge! I’m perfectly willing to go with Mr. Cameron! Honestly, I am!”
“Yes, I warrant you wouldn’t mind that one danged bit, you unholy Jezebel, standin’ there bold as brass in your lurid red silk dress. Flauntin’ your painted face and your powdered bosom for decent men to lose their senses over. Did you think I didn’t know what sort of whoring …”
Alex hauled off and slugged the judge with her red silk handbag, which had been left on the table, as evidence of her crime. The bag contained a number of rather heavy items, most of them stolen from Peppmueller’s, including a dainty silver teapot, several place servings of inexpensive but very pretty silver-plated flatware that had caught Alex’s eye, and a small glass figurine of a dog. Although she hit the judge only once, the bag was heavy enough to break his nose, which now began to bleed profusely. The judge swooned and promptly passed out, crashing backward into a display of high quality yard goods, just in from back east.
“Does this mean I don’t get my damned money?” Mrs. Peppmueller shrieked. “It ain’t fair, I tell you! He’s already signed the paper!”
The judge sat up groggily, and did his sworn duty. “Arrest that man!” he shouted. “And that goddamned painted hussy, as well!”
Two hours later, under threat of arrest for contempt of court, assault and battery on an officer of the public justice, destruction of private property, creating a public disturbance, profanity, loose conduct, and breach of contract, Will Cameron walked out of Peppmueller’s General Mercantile and Sundries, swearing loudly–and with a brand new wife.
Chapter Four
Once they were safely outside, and out of the immediate grasp of the law, Will grabbed Ben’s reins and stalked off down the street, swearing under his breath and wondering how in the name of God he was going to explain all this to Gideon–and to his children. Alex snatched up her canvas bag and ran along behind him, trying to keep pace with his long strides.
“I want to thank you, Mr. Cameron!” she gasped breathlessly, when he finally stopped walking. “For what you did back there. You won’t regret it, I promise you!”
He shook his head, and swore again. “Save your breath, lady. I’m already regretting it.”
At this point, Alex began to be annoyed. She had apologized, and thanked him. What more could she do?
“Where are you going?” she inquired irritably.
“To get your horse.” He pulled the crumpled paper he’d just signed from his hip pocket and shoved it toward her. “This says you’ve got a horse bought and paid for, down at the livery. You want the damned horse, or not?”
Alex sighed. “Would you like to have him?” she asked. “It’s the least I can do to show my gratitude. Think of
the horse as a down payment on what I owe you. As soon as I reach California, I’ll see that you are fully reimbursed for your trouble, with interest, of course.”
He turned and looked at her curiously. “Who the hell’s going to California?”
“Well, I am, of course,” Alex explained, a bit taken aback. “I thought what you said in there was just … I thought you understood that’s where I was headed.”
“Right now, lady,” he growled, “the only place you’re headed is with me, to work off a hundred and eighteen dollars and eighty-four cents. What I’m still trying to figure out, though, is just what it is someone like you can do to make yourself worth that kind of money. You got any ideas about that?”
Alex drew herself up to her full height. “If that’s your idea of frontier humor, Mr. Cameron, I don’t find it at all amusing,” she said coldly. “You surely can’t be taking that ridiculous marriage ceremony seriously. And please believe me when I tell you that I haven’t the slightest intention of accompanying you to some primitive log cabin on the prairie, or anywhere else. You’ll have your money when I’ve wired my bankers.”
Will sighed. “I can see you’ve gotten yourself one real fancy education, somewhere, but we ‘frontiersmen’ aren’t quite as dumb as you seem to think. You’ve no more got ‘wealthy family’ in California, or ‘bankers,’ than that broken down nag of yours, does. You’re dead broke, down to your last nickel, a thief into the bargain, and you owe me a hundred and eighteen dollars I haven’t got. And eighty-four cents. And right now, I’m the only thing standing between you and the stockade at Fort Laramie, where they’re not real shy about taking the hide off a man’s back or his ass with a four-foot strap for a whole lot less than you’ve done. So, just shut the hell up, and wait here while I get your horse.”
Alex tossed her hair, turned, and walked away. She was halfway across the street before Cameron grabbed her around the waist, hoisted her over his hip as easily as though she was a sack of flour, and carried her down the street to the livery stable. Dumping her on a bale of hay by the open doors, he went inside and came out a few moments later with the sad-looking horse, which looked even worse in daylight. He mounted his own horse, and pointed to the other one.
