by Len Levinson
Veronica lit the cigarette and handed it to Stone. He accepted it and took a drag, the smoke making his head spin.
Dorothy Brenner arose from her chair. “I’ll go down and get you something to eat.”
She walked toward the stairs, leaving Stone alone with Veronica, who reached forward and brushed cigarette ashes off the sheet.
“Anything happen in town while I’ve been lying here?” he asked.
“It’s been quiet. Doc McGrath has been up to see you a few times. He says you’re comin’ along just fine.”
“Has Sheriff Rawlins been by?”
“Nope.”
Stone puffed his cigarette and thought about Rawlins. He knew Rawlins didn’t like him, but Rawlins had saved his life anyway. Stone had tried to thank Rawlins after the shooting, but the sheriff wouldn’t accept his gratitude, and instead insulted him. What a strange man Rawlins was.
Dorothy Brenner returned to the attic, carrying a tray that she placed on Stone’s lap.
“You’ve got to eat it all,” she said.
He looked down at a thick steak, some vegetables, a cup of coffee, and a wedge of apple pie. The aroma rose to his nostrils, provoking his appetite.
“I’ll cut up yer steak for you,” Veronica said.
She leaned over him and picked up the knife and fork, slicing into the meat, her face only inches from his and her perfume enveloping him.
“Later on in the day I’ll give you a shave,” she said. “I used to shave my daddy all the time, and he said I was real good at it.”
Stone placed some steak into his mouth. It was tender and juicy, and he hoped it would replenish his strength quickly. He didn’t like to be helpless, laid up in bed like an old man. He figured he should be back on the job in about a week.
“Where’d you learn to be so fast with a gun?” Dorothy asked him.
“Practice,” he replied.
“I guess you don’t know who you outgunned.”
Stone remembered the man with the long blond sideburns and pinkish complexion. “Never saw him before.”
“His name was Fritz Schuler, and he had a reputation for bein’ real fast, but I guess you was faster. He was a wanted man, and so was the rest of them. They was the Deke Casey gang.”
Stone recalled Sheriff Rawlins telling him about Casey on the night of the shooting, but the name hadn’t meant anything to him then and still didn’t.
“Rawlins said it was part of the same gang that come to rob the bank last week,” Dorothy continued. “He says they was here to pay you back for killin’ their owlhoot pardners, and then they was gonna rob the bank again. He found dynamite in their saddlebags, and he riggers they was just gonna blow down the bank door and take whatever they wanted. He said that feller who tried to bushwhack you the other night was prob’ly in the Deke Casey gang too.”
Stone speared a roast potato with his fork. Now it all made sense. Rawlins was an old lawman and he’d put the pieces together, but Stone, who didn’t know anything about being a lawman, had just been wandering around like a fool, unable to figure out what was going on.
“Rawlins is a good man,” Stone said. “I don’t think this town appreciates him.”
“That’s because he’s drunk all the time, and he pushes people around.”
“This town’d be in bad shape without him.”
“We’re in bad shape with him, but I guess he’s better than nothin’. A lot of people think you should take over his job and become sheriff here.”
“I don’t know a damn thing about it. If it hadn’t been for Rawlins, I’d be dead right now. When my time is up here, I’m moving on.”
“Personally,” said Veronica, “I think you ought to be a fancy man.”
Dorothy Brenner nodded. “That’s what I think too.”
John Stone pictured himself in a tight suit and ruffled shirt, wearing a top hat, living off the earnings of girls like Veronica and Dorothy. “It’s not me,” he said.
“Not much to do,” Veronica said. “Just lay on yer ass and be taken care of by wimmin, like now. Don’t you like that?”
“Wouldn’t want to make a career out of it.”
“Why not?”
“If I had my choice, I’d like to have my own ranch.”
“If you was a fancy man and saved yer money, you could end up with yer own ranch.”
“I can’t be a fancy man. I’m engaged to get married.”
“But you don’t even know where the girl you’re gonna marry is.”
“I’ll find her.”
“What if you don’t?”
“Maybe I’ll take your advice,” Stone said with a smile. “Could I be your fancy man, Veronica?”
“Both of us could do a hell of a lot worse, John Stone.”
Jennifer Randlett walked up the path that led to Miss Elsie’s place. She wore a simple cotton dress, carried a large bouquet of flowers, and was nervous, not sure she was doing the right thing, but it was too late to turn back now. Her father would be shocked if he knew where she was headed.
She knocked on the front door between two red lamps. Several seconds passed, during which she pinched her lips together and tried to be steady, and then the door was opened by a young woman wearing bright red lipstick and heavily rouged cheeks.
“We’re not hirin’ anybody just now,” said the woman, whose name was Daisy. ‘‘Come back in a few weeks and we might have somethin’ for you.”
“I’m not applying for work,” Jennifer replied. “I’m here to see John Stone.”
Daisy didn’t know whether to invite the visitor inside or not. She’d only been in town a few days and wasn’t aware that she was dealing with the mayor’s daughter.
“I think you’d better wait right here,” Daisy said. “I’ll get Miss Elsie.”
Daisy walked away, and Jennifer gazed into the gaudy vestibule. The wallpaper was red and the lamps on the wall were burnished brass. She’d heard wild rumors about Miss Elsie’s, and it had become a palace of sin in her mind, titillating and terrible. Jennifer realized Daisy hadn’t been any older than she, and yet was a prostitute, paid to entertain men. Jennifer thought it must be awful to have to earn a living by letting drunken dirty cowboys crawl all over you every night.
Miss Elsie advanced across the vestibule, and Jennifer knew who she was; Miss Elsie had business with her father on several occasions.
“Good afternoon, Miss Randlett,” Miss Elsie said, fluttering her Chinese fan. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Won’t you come in? You say you’d like to see Captain Stone?”
Miss Elsie was bedecked with jewels, wearing an expensive gown, her curly blond hair carefully coiffed. Jennifer followed her into the parlor, where a few men were sitting around with some of the girls. One of the men was drunk, and he pointed unsteadily at Jennifer.
“I want that one!”
Miss Elsie led Jennifer to the kitchen. “I imagine this is a strange experience for you, visiting here. It must’ve taken a lot of courage. I guess you’re quite fond of our deputy sheriff.”
“He’s a friend of the family,” Jennifer said coolly. “If Sheriff Rawlins had been shot, I’d visit him also.”
Miss Elsie smiled as if she didn’t believe Jennifer, but Jennifer had learned that the mayor’s daughter had to be calm in all situations and never let any emotions show.
“He’s right up these stairs in the attic,” Miss Elsie told her. “Two of the girls are looking after him. They’re taking turns, because they all want to be with him. He certainly has a certain attraction for women, wouldn’t you say?”
“As I told you, he’s a friend of the family.”
Jennifer had the impression that Miss Elsie was going to laugh in her face. Is it that obvious? Jennifer asked herself.
“I’m not going up with you,” Miss Elsie said. “When you get old, you don’t like to climb stairs. Would you like a vase for those flowers? Beatrice, get a vase for Miss Randlett.”
Beatrice came away from the stove and took down
a vase from a cupboard, putting the flowers into it.
“Give Deputy Stone a kiss for me,” Beatrice said to Jennifer.
Jennifer carried the vase up the stairs to the attic, wondering how John Stone could prefer this to her mansion. The attic smelled like old clothes and faded perfume, and she walked past the worn trunks and hats of bygone eras to the bed near the window.
Veronica heard her approach and arose from her chair. “Do you see what I see?” she said to Dorothy Brenner.
“Looks like the mayor’s daughter.” Dorothy turned to Stone. “You’ve got company.”
Stone looked at Jennifer moving toward him, carrying the vase full of flowers, and realized it was extremely unusual for a woman of her social standing to visit Miss Elsie’s place. He was so surprised that he didn’t know what to say.
Jennifer moved toward the side of his bed. “I brought you some flowers,” she said, placing them on the table near his bed. “Hope you like them. I picked them myself in our garden.”
Jennifer looked around, but couldn’t see any chairs other than the ones Veronica and Dorothy Brenner had been sitting on.
“Take mine,” Veronica said. “I’ll get another.”
“No, that’s all right.”
“Take it and stop being so damned prissy.”
Veronica walked off into the far shadows of the endless attic, and Jennifer sat uncertainly in the chair. Nobody had ever talked to her like that before and she wasn’t sure of how to handle it. She decided to make believe it hadn’t happened, and turned to Stone with a smile.
“We were all very worried about you,” she said.
“Nothing to worry about,” he replied. “I’m doing all right.”
“You look kind of pale.”
“He lost a lot of blood,” Dorothy Brenner said.
“Do you feel weak?” Jennifer asked.
“A little.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything I could do?”
Veronica returned with a chair, and she heard Jennifer’s question. “What could you do?” Veronica asked sarcastically.
“Anything you could do,” Jennifer replied.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, honey child,” Veronica said, dropping onto the chair and crossing her legs.
Jennifer returned her attention to Stone. The sheet had dropped from his shoulders and she could see the dark blond hair on his chest. His left shoulder wore a massive bandage.
He was staring at the blossoms Jennifer had brought him, remembering the vast flower gardens planted around Albemarle. Many times Stone had walked with Marie in the gardens, hand in hand, opening their hearts to each other as birds sang around them and the sun shone brightly overhead. It had been paradise, and they thought they’d have that garden to walk in forever, but then the war came and that was the end of everything.
“Are you all right?” Jennifer asked softly.
Stone opened his eyes. “Just faded out,” he said. “Sorry.”
“I don’t think you’re looking well at all.” She noticed the ashtray and glass of whiskey on the table. “Are you sure you’re being cared for properly here?”
Veronica sniffed. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll give him anything he needs.”
Jennifer turned to her. “I’m just concerned that you might give him something he doesn’t want.”
Stone raised his hand. “Ladies. Please.”
Jennifer smiled. “I think I’d better be going,” she said. “Just thought I’d drop in to see you, Captain Stone. If there’s anything I or my father can do for you, please don’t hesitate to contact us.”
Stone thanked her for her visit. She squeezed his hand, then turned around and walked across the attic. Stone heard her descending the stairs to the floor below.
“What a little bitch,” Veronica said, placing her hands on her hips, making a funny face that was supposed to resemble Jennifer. “She ever talks to me like that again, I’ll pull her tongue out by the roots.”
“I feel kind of tired,” Stone said. “I’m think I’m going to sleep for a while.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the fragrance of the flowers Jennifer had brought him. Veronica picked up her knitting, and Dorothy resumed her crochet work. The clock on the end table ticked. Downstairs, Miss Elsie led Jennifer to the front door.
“Thank you for letting me see Captain Stone,” Jennifer said graciously.
“Come back anytime, my dear. Just ask for me, if you have any trouble. Your father and I are old friends, you know.”
I wonder what she meant by that, Jennifer wondered as she walked down the street back to the center of town. Surely Daddy wouldn’t patronize Miss Elsie’s place, or would he?
Jennifer knew it was difficult to understand men. She thought of John Stone lying up there with prostitutes offering him their bodies twenty-four hours a day. It’d been her impression that he hadn’t been wearing any pajamas.
Jennifer may’ve been the mayor’s daughter, and she’d own most of Petie someday, but somehow she felt inferior to the prostitutes at Miss Elsie’s, because she believed they knew more about men than she.
She didn’t know hardly anything about men at all. Still a virgin, her mother had died when she was little and no one had ever told her what men and women do together, although she had a general idea because she’d spent time on farms and had observed animal behavior. Prostitutes knew ways to please men that she didn’t, she believed. John Stone was polite to her, but he probably thought she was just a child, compared to the women doting on him at Miss Elsie’s. She imagined he’d prefer the company of experienced women to her, because men were like animals sometimes.
Maybe I’d better stay away from him for a while, she thought. I can’t make him love me, after all. All I can do is—hell—I have no idea of what to do.
Her pretty face clouded with worry and her hands clasped behind her back, she made her way toward the planked sidewalks of Petie.
Stone heard a stampede of footsteps on the stairs. He opened his eyes and saw that it was growing dark. He’d been asleep for several hours, he realized, and the girls evidently had left him alone because they didn’t want to disturb his rest.
The footsteps came toward him across the attic. He raised himself on his elbows and saw Dr. McGrath leading a contingent of citizens that included Mayor Randlett; Thad Cooper, the lawyer and member of the town council; Clyde Akerson, manager of the Petie Savings Bank; the Reverend Vernon Scobie, pastor of the Petie Church of God; Andy Thomaston, owner of the Diamond Restaurant; and a few other men whom Stone had seen around town but didn’t know personally.
“Well,” said Dr. McGrath, “how’s my favorite patient today? I heard you took some nourishment. Lie still and I’ll check your dressing.”
Stone dropped back onto the pillow, and Dr. McGrath peeled away the bandage. It hurt because the coagulated blood caused it to stick to the tender edges of the wound.
Mayor Randlett moved to the other side of the bed, holding his hat in his hands. “We want to express our appreciation for what you’ve done, Captain Stone. You outdrew Fritz Schuler, one of the fastest gunfighters on the frontier, and subdued the notorious Deke Casey gang that evidently was going to make another attempt on our bank. You’re going to get a raise, of course, but if there’s anything else you might need, don’t hesitate to ask. We’re all in your debt for what you’ve done for us.”
Stone grimaced as Dr. McGrath pulled the bandage away from his skin. “I wouldn’t be alive right now,” he said, “if it hadn’t been for Sheriff Rawlins. He saved my life, and he’s the one who saved the town. He knew who Deke Casey was, and I didn’t. Rawlins is a real lawman, and I was just lucky.”
“Nonsense,” replied Mayor Randlett. “People make their own luck. You faced down that gang all by yourself and outdrew Fritz Schuler in a fair fight. Sheriff Rawlins came along at the end and helped out, we don’t deny that, but don’t be so modest about
your own role in the affair. Why, we’ve had newspapermen here from all over the frontier, and we told ’em the story. They know what the truth is. You’ve put this town on the map, Captain Stone. I wasn’t there, and I didn’t see it, but folks who were there said you were so fast they didn’t even see you go for your gun. They say Fritz Schuler didn’t even clear his holster when you shot him square in the chest with two close-spaced shots. Now that’s marksmanship, cool under fire, steady as a rock.”
Dr. McGrath peered into the wound. “Coming along real fine,” he said. “You’re a young man and you’ll heal in no time at all.”
“When do you think I’ll be able to go back to work?”
Mayor Randlett held out his hand. “Don’t worry about going back to work. Take your time and mend at God’s own pace. Are you being well taken care of here at Miss Elsie’s?”
“I get everything I need.”
A few of the men guffawed. The Reverend Vernon Scobie smiled nervously. Dr. McGrath affixed a fresh bandage to Stone’s shoulder. “Maybe tomorrow if you feel up to it, you might want to take a little walk. Don’t push yourself, but it’s good to get some exercise, keep your blood circulating, prevent bedsores, good for the liver.”
Mayor Randlett looked down at Stone. “If it hadn’t been for you, there’s no telling what might’ve happened to this town.”
Stone raised himself up on his elbows and look at the gathering around him. “I mean you no disrespect,” he said, “but I think you’re exaggerating what I did. I told you before and I’ll tell you again: Sheriff Rawlins saved your bank. He’s the real hero, not me. I walked straight into danger, without any idea of what I was doing, and if Sheriff Rawlins hadn’t showed up, I’d be in boot hill right now. You should be thanking him, not me.”
Mayor Randlett hooked his thumbs in his vest. “Gentlemen, I think we’ve just witnessed a fine example of what they call southern graciousness. Very well, Captain Stone, I’ll go to Sheriff Rawlins first thing in the morning and thank him, but all of us here know who the real hero of the gunfight is, don’t we?”
