Stagecoach to Serenity

by Steven Gray

  ‘But no one will ever know. I won’t tell anyone. I’d never get you into trouble. So what harm can it do? I’d be awfully appreciative.’ Sal stepped closer and kissed the man again.

  ‘You’ll let me, you know?’ Morgan’s voice and hands were trembling. ‘For free. Really?’

  What did the idiot think she was offering? Coffee and cake? ‘Of course I will. It’ll be your reward.’

  ‘All right then, Sal, just for you. We can’t, well you know, now I suppose?’

  ‘No, sweetheart.’ Sal made her voice regretful. ‘I’ve got to get back before Queenie misses me.’ That at least was true. Queenie rarely let any of her girls out on their own in case they ran away or entertained a man without her knowledge and so kept all the money.

  Morgan sighed in disappointment and looked sulky.

  ‘Don’t fret, sweetheart. I’ll give you a real good time. One you won’t ever forget.’

  ‘All right. I’ll do what you want.’

  Idiot, Sal thought again, as she sashayed out of the office. Men were so easy to fool and beguile.

  Morgan wasn’t the only one. Old Man Henderson at the livery said she could take a horse from the stables whenever she wanted and he wouldn’t stop her or report her – why he’d even saddle it up for her! She also had to kiss him several times in return. Mr Henderson was ancient and a bit smelly but no worse than some of Queenie’s other clients so it was a price worth paying.

  She returned to the brothel a little lighter at heart.

  She’d already packed a bag with the clothes she would need in her new life, with or without Darren: some underwear, shoes and a couple of her best dresses. In it as well went her knife and the gun she kept in her room for protection against possibly violent customers. The bag was well hidden at the back of the closet. She had also decided what she would wear when she made her escape from the brothel: the few ordinary clothes she owned that wouldn’t call attention to her or betray her profession. She kept them with the bag as well.

  For a long while now, ever since she’d come up with the idea of going into business for herself, she’d been stealing as much money as she could from her clients without them noticing or caring, and from what she had to hand over to Queenie, definitely without her noticing, because she would most certainly care.

  Now all she could do was wait. Sal wasn’t very good at waiting and she hoped she would hear something soon. Either that Darren was caught and she could put her plans into action or that, by some miracle, he’d gotten away.

  She would give it a few more days, a week at most, and then she would go to San Francisco by herself. It was a long way to go alone but Sal wasn’t afraid; she wasn’t afraid of anything – not any more, not since the day her father lay dead at her feet, unable to hurt her ever again. Once there she was sure to find some man who took her fancy and who would help her get what she wanted and deserved out of life.

  And before she left she would get her own back on Madam Queenie.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘Mister, it ain’t half sweltering,’ Norton whined. ‘Can’t we rest up?’

  It was late morning on the day after Greeley had taken Norton prisoner when they finally came down out of the hills and reached the valley. It had been hot enough in the foothills but now it was stifling. The air was sultry, a strong hot wind ruffling the grass and, although the sun was shining, the sky had a molten, heavy look.

  Both men were sweating and uncomfortable, although Greeley made several stops so they could take a drink of the warm, brackish water in the canteens and to let the horses rest. He’d kept the animals to a walk, for fear of losing them otherwise.

  If the weather didn’t improve it was going to take much longer to reach Serenity than Greeley had hoped or expected. And he didn’t think he could put up with much more of Norton’s endless complaining.

  A short while later a jumble of buildings appeared on the horizon. They were approaching a small fort. It consisted of little more than a parade-ground, with barracks for the cavalrymen, officers’ quarters, an office or two, some work buildings and stables. There was no stockade or look-out tower.

  The fort’s original purpose must have been to guard the valley against attack by Apaches. But as far as Greeley was aware there had never been much Indian trouble around here and these days the fort probably had little or no purpose. The garrison was likely to be without a full complement of men. Someone in charge would get around to remembering it one day and decide that it could be put of commission; until then here it stayed.

  But doubtless it would be linked to the telegraph. He could send a message to Marshal Rayner telling him he was on his way with Norton.

  The sign above the post headquarters announced it as Fort Benton.

  Apart from the ringing sound of a blacksmith hard at work in his forge, it was very quiet. But as they came to a stop outside the headquarters building, a young corporal hurried up to take care of their horses, saluting smartly. Obviously, despite the lack of threat, a watch out was still being kept, just in case.

  Greeley stepped up onto the veranda that ran all the way round the building, providing shade and somewhere to sit of an evening. He caught hold of Norton’s arm, pulling him after him. When he knocked on the door and went inside, he was greeted by a sergeant, who looked old and grizzled enough to be a veteran of the Indian Wars: an old-time cavalryman who stood up on their entrance, ready for trouble.

  ‘I’d like to see your Commanding Officer. I’ve got something to ask him,’ Greeley said. ‘Can you keep an eye on my prisoner for me?’

  The sergeant grinned. ‘I’d be delighted. He won’t get away from me.’

  Greeley was quite sure Norton wouldn’t even think of trying to do so and would be a fool if he did.

  Greeley was then shown into the office of Captain Chambers, who was a youngish man of about thirty-five. He had an air of dissatisfaction about him, which was understandable if he’d joined the army for excitement and to fight Indians, and instead ended up here at Fort Benton, where neither was likely. He might also have hoped for promotion and preferment but they weren’t likely either.

  ‘Yes, Mr Greeley, we heard all about the shooting,’ he said once Gustavus had introduced himself and told him who his prisoner was. ‘We were asked to keep a look out for Norton if he should come this way. Pity he didn’t. I could have sent my Apache scouts after him to chase him down. They’d have soon got on his trail and it would have given them something stimulating to do, instead of sitting round here all day.’ He sighed. ‘So how can I help you?’

  ‘If you have a telegraph here I’d like to send a telegram to Marshal Rayner at Serenity.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll get my sergeant to take you across. But, first, I’m just about to have my midday meal, why don’t you join me? It’ll be nothing fancy, just beef, potatoes and squash.’

  ‘Sounds good to me.’ He’d been living off slender rations for days now.

  ‘In exchange you can tell me all about how you captured Norton. It’s not often we hear the news at first hand all the way out here.’ Chambers stuck his head out of the door. ‘Sergeant. Take the prisoner over to the guardhouse and get him something to eat.’ He turned back to Greeley. ‘Be little more than slop I’m afraid.’

  Both men grinned.

  Over a delicious meal, Greeley told the captain all about the chase through the hills. He made it sound more thrilling than it had, in fact, been. ‘Now I’ve just got to get the bastard back to Serenity and hand him over to the law.’ He glanced out of the window. ‘Bit worried about this weather. It’s so damn hot and the air’s breathless and the horses are finding it hard to cope. It’s unnatural, especially for this time of the year.’

  ‘I think you might soon have more than the heat to worry about.’ Chambers poured out mugs of coffee and offered Greeley a cheroot. ‘My scouts tell me that there’s a real bad storm on the way and it’s going to hit very hard and last some while. I’ve never known them to be wrong. If it’s
as bad as they warn, there’ll be a real danger of flash flooding and landslips and such. Especially in the hills on the approach into Serenity.’

  Greeley frowned; he didn’t like the sound of that. ‘I don’t know the area well either. Got any suggestions? I want to be rid of Norton as quick as I can.’

  Chambers thought for a moment. ‘Well you could take the long way round the edge of the foothills. You’d be on the flat most of the way, but it would add several days to your journey.’

  Greeley frowned; that didn’t sound like a good idea either.

  ‘So my advice would be to ride for Talbot. That’s not anywhere near as far as Serenity and it’s a much easier ride too, just across the valley as it’s situated this side of the hills. And from there you can catch the stagecoach. Wells Fargo will do everything in their power to run the stage. It’ll probably add a couple of days to your journey but when the storm does hit you’d be slowed up anyway and I should say that in the end it’ll likely be quicker and easier on the stage. It’ll be safer too than being out in the open on horseback on your own with just you and your prisoner and the added risk of suffering an accident.’

  Greeley considered what the man had said. He didn’t much like taking the stage, much preferring to ride and be independent of timetables and scheduled routes. But in this case the captain was likely right. An accident during a storm could mean losing horses or prisoner. Or he might be the one to suffer the accident and find himself at Norton’s mercy. At least on the stage he could, if necessary, ask for the help of the driver and the guard in handling his prisoner.

  ‘When’s the next stage due?’

  ‘I’m not exactly sure. My sergeant will know. He knows everything.’

  The sergeant did know. ‘There’s a stage leaves Talbot on Thursday morning. You catch that, you’ll reach Serenity late Friday.’

  It was now Wednesday afternoon.

  ‘We’ll leave right after I’ve send my message,’ Greeley decided.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The telegraph operator’s boy flung open the door to Marshal Rayner’s office and shouted, ‘Telegram for you, marshal!’

  Rayner looked up from his desk where he was writing up tax notices. The boy was so excited he was hardly able to keep still but bounced from one foot to the other, all the while waving the piece of paper he held in the air.

  ‘Give it to me,’ Rayner ordered. ‘D’you know what it says?’

  ‘Yes sirree, marshal.’ The boy’s face lit up with an enormous grin. ‘Darren Norton has been caught! He’s on his way back here as a prisoner of one Mr Gustavus Greeley!’

  Evans immediately got up from his chair and came round to Rayner’s desk, peering over his shoulder. ‘Is it true?’

  ‘Sure is!’

  ‘Don’t let anyone else know about this,’ Rayner warned the boy. ‘Tell Mr Morgan the same. It’s confidential. You know what means, don’t you?’

  ‘Sure do and no, sir, I won’t say a word.’

  The messenger dashed out again still so thrilled at the news that Rayner, watching him go, doubted he’d be able to keep his promise. Perhaps it didn’t matter. The news was certain to be all over Serenity before long anyway. It would be impossible to keep something like this quiet. What he didn’t want was some of the hot-heads in town getting together and deciding to lynch Norton before he could be locked up in a cell. Rayner had never lost a prisoner yet and while he wanted the young man to hang, he wanted it done legally.

  ‘What does it say? Where’s it from?’ Evans was almost as excited as the messenger. ‘How soon will they get here?’

  ‘It’s come from Fort Benton.’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘T’other side of the hills just beyond Talbot.’ Rayner read the message out loud. ‘It says: “Norton caught. Stop. Will catch stage from Talbot. Stop. Greeley. Stop.” ‘

  Evans frowned. ‘I wonder why they’re travelling by stage.’

  ‘Perhaps Greeley is worried about the weather.’ Rayner glanced out of the window. Everyone was beginning to get worried. ‘And being out alone with his prisoner in it.’

  ‘Won’t going to Talbot take much longer than coming straight here?’

  ‘Yeah, but not by much. He must have decided the stage is his safest bet. Don’t blame him. It could get rough out there.’

  ‘I didn’t think the little bastard would ever be caught.’ Evans sighed in relief.

  ‘I was beginning to wonder myself. And he would probably have gotten away if he’d made a break for Mexico. Greeley couldn’t have followed him there. Instead he must’ve been riding round in circles to end up being caught so near to Serenity.’

  ‘Norton probably don’t know his east from his west!’ Evans said with a grin.

  Rayner tapped the telegram. ‘I’d better send a message about this to Judge Quinn. Even if he’s busy conducting other trials on the circuit, I expect he’ll do his utmost to get here as fast as he can. He’s always saying how concerned he is about the lack of law and order in the Territory and he’ll want to hold Norton’s trial quickly so as to show everyone we don’t tolerate the shooting of men in cold blood.’

  The marshal wanted it held soon as well; put an end to the whole sorry business. And he wanted no one but Quinn to sit in judgment so that there could be no doubt about the sentence. Quinn was not known as the Hanging Judge for nothing.

  ‘When’s the next stage due in from Talbot, Frank?’

  Evans went back to his desk and rummaged about in the top drawer until he came up with a Wells Fargo timetable. ‘Umm,’ he studied it for a moment. ‘Next one is due late Friday afternoon. Leaves Talbot early Thursday.’

  ‘OK.’ Rayner thought for a moment. ‘It’s a fairly straightforward journey from Fort Benton to Talbot and so long as Greeley doesn’t encounter any problems on the way he should get there in time to catch it. Just to make sure we’re ready for them, I’ll send a message to the Wells Fargo office and ask them to let us know if Greeley and his prisoner are on that particular stage and if it’s running to schedule.’

  Forewarned and forearmed was one of Rayner’s mottoes.

  ‘Wells Fargo won’t delay the stage for anyone or anything. It’ll run even if Greeley’s not on it.’

  ‘I know. That’s not why I’m taking precautions.’

  ‘What is it then, Marshal?’

  ‘I just want us to be ready to stop anyone trying to take the law into their own hands. I want this done right in a court of law. So on your rounds can you listen out for any wild talk?’ Rayner knew he could rely on Frank. He might hate Norton for what he’d done, but he was too good a lawman not to want the young man to be convicted by judge and jury.

  ‘Sure thing. Are you going to tell Mr Hamlin?’

  Rayner nodded. ‘I’d better. Before he hears the news from someone else. I’ll go once I send off the telegrams.’

  ‘Is it all right if I ride out and tell Irene? She and her family will want to know as well.’

  ‘Yeah, OK. Don’t dally there though. I need you here in town.’

  These days Rayner always approached Hamlin’s Gun & Ammunition Store with a guilty feeling of foreboding. Although others, including Hamlin himself, had said he wasn’t responsible for what Norton had done, he still felt partly at fault for Arthur’s killing. And always would.

  He’d been an experienced lawman long enough to know that Darren Norton was a ne’er-do-well. He should have found an excuse to run him out of town; that way there would have been no shooting and Arthur would still be alive. Instead he’d done nothing and simply hoped that Norton would tire of Serenity and leave of his own accord. He hadn’t. Now it was too late and a decent young man was dead, leaving a father and a fiancée to mourn him.

  As he walked from the telegraph office to the store, it was quiet and the streets were almost empty, except for the usual old men loafers sitting in the shade of the veranda in front of the hotel and some businessmen gathered outside the bank. Clearly no one else had as yet
heard the news.

  Artie Hamlin was alone in his store. He was wiping down the counter where several shiny new pistols were displayed. On the wall behind him in a locked cabinet he kept the rifles. Ammunition was in another cabinet. It was a well-stocked store and well ordered but Hamlin’s heart was no longer in running it, now he didn’t have a son to leave it to.

  Since Arthur’s murder he’d suddenly looked much older than his forty-five years. His hair had turned grey almost overnight and his eyes were sunken and face lined as if he rarely slept. He’d also lost weight and his suit hung on him.

  He’d never get over his son’s unnecessary and pointless death but surely seeing the killer swinging at the end of a rope would help.

  ‘Howdy, Charley, what can I do for you?’ Hamlin put down his duster. He tried to smile. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Good news, Artie. A bounty hunter has made a prisoner of Darren Norton and is at this minute bringing him back to Serenity.’

  ‘Oh.’ Hamlin slumped forward.

  ‘Here.’ Rayner hurried round the counter to catch hold of the man before he fell. He led him to the customer’s chair in the corner. ‘Sit down. Breathe deep. Can I get you anything?’

  He went to turn the sign on the door to closed, so that Hamlin could recover in private without any customers coming in and disturbing him with excited gossip. And a lot of people would surely be heading this way once they heard.

  After a moment Hamlin gasped, ‘No, no, I’m fine. It was a shock is all.’

  Despite Hamlin’s protests that he was all right, his face was grey and he was having trouble breathing, so Rayner went through to the back and found where the man stored his bottle of whiskey. He poured out a shot and handed Hamlin the glass. ‘Drink this. It’ll do you good.’

  Hamlin did as he was told and a little colour returned to his cheeks. ‘When will they get here?’

  ‘They’re coming by stage from Talbot and hopefully they’ll catch the one that gets in on Friday. I’ve sent a message to Judge Quinn. Don’t worry, Artie, once this is over, you’ll be able to rest easier at night.’ And so would Rayner.