Stagecoach to Serenity

by Steven Gray

  She was ready to show Queenie that she was no longer prepared to be bossed around and treated badly. Unfortunately Queenie, with her long experience in the trade, knew exactly how Sal felt and was becoming more and more demanding and harsh, enjoying wielding what she saw as her power over the girl.

  Unfortunately for Queenie, what she didn’t know was that Sal was quite prepared to do anything – absolutely anything – to get her own way. She’d done so before; she would do so again.

  ‘What are you doing still up here?’ Queenie demanded in her shrill voice. ‘Time to get your skinny ass down to the parlour. Men’ll be coming by soon. Don’t want to disappoint ’em, do you?’

  ‘No,’ Sal muttered. ‘I’ll be down in a minute.’

  ‘You ain’t, I’ll take my cane to you.’

  Queenie had never had cause to dare hurt Sal physically but the madam was longing for an excuse and the opportunity to show her who was boss. Woe betide Queenie if she tried!

  ‘I said I’ll be down.’ Sal’s hands clenched into tiny fists. How she longed to smash the smirk off the madam’s face.

  ‘See you are. Don’t want you moping up here by yourself, just cos your boyfriend’s gone. That ain’t what I pay you for. I pay you to be nice.’

  ‘Ain’t I always?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Queenie chuckled crudely. ‘I’ll give you that. You surely like what you do.’ She paused in the doorway. ‘By the way, the marshal and his posse came back a while earlier.’ That was the real reason Queenie had come to her room, the reason for her smirk.

  Sal did her best not to give the madam any satisfaction by showing her fear. Had they caught Darren? Was he in jail? ‘Really?’ She affected boredom.

  ‘They was alone,’ Queenie went on. ‘Yeah, missy, thought that’d please you. Seems your boyfriend got away from ’em. Not that that’s a surprise seeing as how stupid old Rayner was in charge.’

  Knowing Rayner wasn’t that stupid or that old, it took all Sal’s strength of mind not to show how relieved she was, which would only make Queenie laugh.

  ‘Trouble is he also got away from you. He’s left you in the lurch.’ Queenie grinned when Sal didn’t say anything. ‘Always said he was a no-good sonofabitch. See how much better off you are staying here with me and not running off with him somewhere else to start your own place.’

  Had Queenie found out about their plans? Did she listen at doors? Sal wouldn’t put it past her.

  ‘Ain’t I given you a roof over your head and looked after you like you was my own daughter?’ Queenie pleaded in a simper.

  Sal said nothing in reply to that falsehood.

  Queenie’s eyes hardened. ‘Be down in five minutes or I’ll want to know the reason why. And be prepared to work your butt off this evening.’

  As Queenie went out, Sal called her several names under her breath. One of these days and soon the old woman would get what was coming to her.

  In the meantime – Darren had escaped! Her heart lifted.

  It wasn’t true that he’d left her in the lurch. He’d had no choice but to run away. Now he’d escaped, he’d soon let her know where she could join him and they could then head for California.

  And if he didn’t, Sal the Gal would want to know the reason why.

  CHAPTER THREE

  $100 Reward Money was offered for the capture – dead or alive – of Darren Norton.

  Gustavus Greeley had set out after Norton as soon as he could.

  $100 was a lot of money; more than Greeley usually earned on a bounty. Everyone must surely want Norton caught and brought to trial. Or brought back to Serenity over the back of a horse to be buried in a pine box. Even more important than the money was the fact that his quarry was just the type of reckless idiot Greeley liked to see punished.

  Greeley had been raised to be honest, hard-working and well mannered. He couldn’t abide those like Norton who never did a day’s work but lived by cheating, robbery and causing trouble and grief for others. Those who got so drunk they lost all control with the result that a young man had been shot dead over a poker hand.

  Gustavus was twenty-seven. He was tall and lean. His black hair curling almost to his shoulders, black moustache and blue eyes attracted women of all kinds.

  He’d never meant to become a bounty hunter. He, like his father before him, had every intention of being a farmer with his own land. Then one day his father had been in the wrong place at exactly the wrong time: shot dead by a man robbing the local store for a couple of dollars. Gustavus decided to chase down the killer and make him face the consequences of his actions. So far he hadn’t caught the man who’d changed his life overnight – he would search till he did – but he had become good at catching others.

  He always hoped to bring in his bounty alive so they could stand trial in a court of law but, if they wanted to make a big deal of it, dead was OK too.

  It hadn’t taken him long to get on Norton’s trail. Especially as, like others of his kind, Norton wasn’t very bright. Once he’d eluded the posse and believed he was free and clear from pursuit, he’d gotten careless and mostly left a track a mile wide. And who knew why he wasn’t making a run for Mexico, which is what any normal person would do. But then most lawbreakers weren’t normal; that was why they broke the law in the first place.

  ‘Got you!’ he now said in triumph.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ Darren Norton was getting desperate.

  He was also exhausted, grubby and hungry. Water in the foothills wasn’t a problem, there being plenty of streams and waterholes, but food certainly was. Second day out he’d stolen some grub from a store in a tiny hamlet but, of course, he hadn’t thought of rationing it and now there was none left.

  He was angry with himself and sorry for himself too. He should never have shot Arthur. It had been a crazy, stupid thing to do. Not for the first time he’d cursed himself for a fool. Now he was paying the price.

  Once he fled Serenity and escaped Rayner and the posse in the foothills he believed he was safe.

  No such luck! Marshal Rayner had obviously alerted the law about him.

  His original idea had been to escape to Mexico. He should have kept to that. Instead, after believing he’d evaded capture, the thought of crossing the desert, with the weather and the land so hot and dry, and then ending up in a foreign country where he couldn’t speak the language and didn’t know any of its customs, hadn’t seemed such a good plan after all. It was too much of an effort. He’d decided, as he usually did, to take the easy way out.

  Then, thinking to catch a train at a lonely way station, he’d been seen and chased and only just managed to flee in time. So he gave up on that idea too.

  In fact he hadn’t known what to do, with the result that he was still in the foothills.

  Then things got even worse.

  Someone was on his trail. A lawman perhaps or a bounty hunter. Was there a reward out on him? Whoever it was, he was cleverer and smarter than Rayner, good at tracking and not about to give up. He didn’t seem to need either food or rest. Ever since spotting him, Norton had been constantly on the run, trying to outwit his pursuer, without success.

  The man was always right there behind him, just out of rifle range, hounding him into doing what he didn’t want to do, forcing him to go places he didn’t want to go. It began to seem the man knew the moves he was going to make before he even started to make them.

  The fact that he hadn’t actually caught up with him yet made Norton wonder if the bastard was toying with him.

  Once he thought he’d given his pursuer the slip only to wake up in the morning to see a familiar spiral of dust from a horse and rider coming ever closer.

  His luck changed when he crossed a fast-flowing river early yesterday. Since then he’d seen no sign of his pursuer, no dust from his horse or smoke from a campfire. Hopefully the bastard had drowned in it. Where he came out of the water, he’d spent some time carefully wiping away his tracks. Even a good tracker couldn’t follow a trail th
at wasn’t there.

  And shortly afterwards, he’d come across a cave. It made a good hiding place, somewhere to hole up and rest. Now he stood in the shade caused by the cave’s overhang, peering hard along his back trail. No one and nothing moved.

  ‘Thank God for that,’ he whispered.

  He was safe, he could sleep soundly. With a sigh he sank down to the ground, resting his head on his knees. He could take the time to decide what to do next.

  Not that he could take too long – the hunter might find him again, there might be others on his trail – but as luck would have it, he’d somehow arrived back quite close to Serenity. The town was just over the next range of hills. Three, four days away at most. Sal the Gal was there. Even he wouldn’t be stupid enough to actually go back to the town itself, he’d be recognized for certain, but surely he could get a message to Sal at Queenie’s brothel. And Sal, being Sal, would then find a way to come to him.

  She would know how to get him out of this mess. She’d also know how they could best reach California where she had planned their new life together. And while Norton wasn’t altogether sure that he wanted that life – he liked bumming around with no responsibilities – at least in California he would be safe from pursuit. Once there he could decide what to do next.

  As he lay down to sleep, Norton felt quite happy. Things were going to work out OK after all.

  Once he realized he was being followed, Norton had done everything he could outwit his pursuer. He had no chance. Although after making his trail difficult to follow yesterday, he probably thought he’d succeeded. Greeley was too smart to be fooled and now he watched from his vantage point near to Norton’s hide-out. He’d been waiting for some hours until dawn, which in his experience was the best time to surprise an outlaw. It was when they least expected to be confronted. When they were asleep and at their most vulnerable.

  Dawn was little more than a slight brightening in the eastern sky, way over beyond the hills when Greeley started to make his way down to the cave that nestled near the bottom of the slope. He went carefully, not wanting to slip on a rock or trip over the roots of a bush. He didn’t want to risk an injury or make any noise to alert his prey.

  He’d watched Norton secure his horse to a tree amongst some dense undergrowth just below the cave, out of sight. He gave the animal a wide berth so as not to disturb it.

  Pausing just outside the entrance to the cave, he drew his gun. This was the dangerous bit. If Norton was awake or had sensed his approach then for a moment Greeley would be outlined against the sky and make an easy target. Taking a deep breath, he stepped quickly and silently inside, immediately ducking to one side. Nothing! He stopped again, allowing his eyes to get used to the darkness.

  The wanted man had made camp right at the back of the cave where his fire couldn’t be seen from outside. The slight glimmer of the fire’s remains was enough to help Greeley make out, just beyond the ashes, Norton’s sleeping shape. He was on his back, mouth open, snoring lightly. A holster and six-shooter lay nearby.

  Greeley inched closer. He leant across Norton, who didn’t stir, and picked up the holster and gun, putting them down out of reach and harm’s way.

  Then he kicked at Norton’s legs very hard and in a loud voice said, ‘Wake up!’ He stepped out of the way so that Norton couldn’t make a grab for him.

  The young man came awake with a startled snort and a yelp of pain. ‘What the hell!’ He sat up, looking befuddled for a moment, and then, as he realized someone was standing on the other side of the fire – and who it must be – reached out for his gun.

  ‘It ain’t there.’

  ‘Shit!’ Norton started to scrabble to his feet.

  ‘Shouldn’t bother iffen I was you.’ Greeley cocked his gun, the sound loud as it echoed around the cave walls. ‘I can shoot you dead, and I will, before you can get to me.’ Norton collapsed back down. ‘That’s better. Tell me, are you going to behave yourself?’

  He nodded in defeat. Greeley signalled to him and he put both hands out in front of him, allowing himself to be handcuffed. Once done, Greeley grabbed hold of Norton’s jacket collar, hauling him up.

  ‘Name’s Greeley,’ he said. ‘I’m a bounty hunter, not a lawman. So, yeah, that means I’m only interested in the reward money. You’re worth an awful lot to me and I intend to collect on you. Those who put it up want you dead or alive. I’m not particularly worried either way. It’s up to you. You can come with me peaceably enough or I can shoot you and take you back slung face-down over your horse’s saddle. But whichever it is, I’m hauling your sorry ass back to Serenity.’

  Norton’s shoulders slumped in defeat and despair. He’d been so sure he’d lost his pursuer. It wasn’t fair.

  All the same, they hadn’t yet reached Serenity. Norton knew that once there and in jail he’d soon stand trial for murder and hang. The very thought gave him shivers. But it was a long journey back to the town and if he could fool this damn lawman into thinking he’d given up then, maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to escape.

  ‘Good, thought that’d be your answer.’ Greeley had a feeling from the look in the other’s eyes that while he had no doubt of his ability to handle Norton without too much trouble, he’d have to watch his back because his prisoner might, if he was lucky or desperate enough, get the better of him. After all what did Norton have to lose? He was going back to face the hangman. He might prefer to take his chances out in the open and either try to kill his captor and escape or die by a bullet.

  ‘A word of warning. Don’t try to escape. I’m a good shot and, after what you did, I’d sure like an excuse to shoot you. And what I most certainly am not is a fool. So don’t take me for one.’

  Norton swore to himself. The bounty hunter was as hard and ruthless as he looked. And experienced. He wouldn’t stand any nonsense.

  DAMN!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘Any news?’ Frank Evans looked up as Rayner came into the office.

  The marshal took off his Stetson and sat down at his desk, shaking his head as he did so. ‘No, nothing in yet. Don’t look so worried. Mr Greeley’s only been after Norton for a few days and from all I’ve heard about him once he gets on someone’s trail he doesn’t give up the chase easily. We’ll have a hanging to look forward to before too long.’

  Evans grinned. ‘It can’t come soon enough.’

  The two lawmen weren’t the only ones waiting anxiously for news. So was Sal the Gal.

  The day after Darren Norton fled Serenity, she started to make plans.

  She couldn’t wait to leave Queenie’s where life was becoming intolerable with the madam taunting her every day about her ‘lost love’ and how worthless he’d proved to be.

  ‘I always knew he’d do you wrong,’ she said, cackling her horrible cackle. ‘And now that a reward has been offered and I’ve heard there’s already a bounty hunter on his trail, it won’t be long before he’s dragged back here. He’ll hang then. Won’t that be a sight for sore eyes! Serve the sonofabitch right.’

  And because Sal rarely reacted to what Queenie said except to stand, hands on hips, staring at her, the madam was punishing her for her insolence by making her work harder than any of her other girls.

  Sal, who was under no illusions about Darren’s stupidity, had thought that once a bounty hunter, interested only in collecting the reward, got after him, it was only too likely that he would soon be captured and brought back to Serenity. After all the things she’d decided they would do together, she also decided that she must find a way to rescue him.

  If that proved impossible then he’d just have to face up to the consequences of his foolish actions. She would do as she normally did and think only of herself. Forget all about Darren. Leave Serenity far behind. Shame, but there it was, a girl had to look out for herself.

  She’d quickly realized that the best time and chance to effect a rescue would be before Darren and the bounty hunter reached Serenity because once he was in the marshal’s cell
s it would be difficult, if not impossible, to break him out. Rayner and Evans respected the law – no way could she bribe them with money or her body to let him go. There would doubtless be several townsmen willing to help the marshal stand guard. With anger still in the air, others might try to lynch Darren and Rayner might not bother to prevent them. And, despite his good looks and happy-go-lucky charm, even Darren wasn’t worth the risk of her being arrested, getting shot or otherwise hurt by outraged citizens.

  Out in the open she could use her guile and wits to fool his captor.

  And while Rayner and Evans were immune to any promises she might make them, others weren’t. So one morning when it was quiet she slipped out of the brothel and made her way to the telegraph office. Greg Morgan, the operator, was not the sort to leave his post. He was sure to be there.

  Morgan was a tubby man in his forties. He was married to a prune-faced woman who controlled both him and his purse-strings, so that while he was desperate for some real loving, which he didn’t get at home, he couldn’t afford to visit any sort of brothel and certainly not Queenie’s where prices were high. Sal knew that the promise of a visit to her bed, for free, would mean he’d do whatever she asked.

  She found him alone. Shutting and locking the door behind her, she kissed him several times then asked if he’d heard anything about Darren Norton and the bounty hunter on his trail.

  ‘No,’ Morgan said breathlessly. ‘Nothing’s come in.’

  Good!

  ‘You will let me know when you do hear, won’t you? Please. If you’re willing to help me, I’ll be very willing to do whatever you want.’ Sal flashed her eyes saucily at him. ‘And I promise Queenie won’t make you pay.’

  ‘Well, er, I don’t know about that,’ Morgan stuttered, blushing a bright red. ‘It’s against the rules. I do something like that I could lose my job. Perhaps I could do something else for you.’

  What else exactly! Sal hid a sigh of exasperation. What else did Morgan have to offer someone like her?