by Steven Gray
‘Charley.’ Hamlin reached out a shaky hand to catch hold of the marshal’s jacket. ‘Do you think that either you or young Frank could ride out and meet the stage? I don’t want anything to go wrong, not now. I don’t want the slippery bastard getting away somehow. I want to see him punished for what he did. Will you do that for me?’
‘I don’t see why not.’
‘And will you ask Frank to ride out to the farm and tell Arthur’s girl and her folks the news?’
‘He’s on his way right now.’
‘Good. Poor Irene has taken this real hard. Frank is proving to be a good friend to her just as he was to Arthur.’
Rayner nodded. He wondered whether, after a suitable period of mourning, Frank might court Irene. He hoped so. They were both nice young people and deserved some happiness.
In the meantime, all he had to do was hope that the weather held, that Wells Fargo was able to run the stage and that nothing happened between now and Friday or between Talbot and here.
Surely, that wasn’t too much to ask!
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘Hey, Sal. Sal, you there?’
A pebble or two struck Sal the Gal’s bedroom window and woke her up. Yawning she got out of bed and reached for her wrap. She went over to the window and pushed up the sash, peering out. Greg Morgan. The telegraph operator stood below looking up expectantly. Was he here with news or just the hope she would take pity on him and invite him up to her room? Whatever it was, it had just better be worth disturbing her rest over, especially as the afternoon was so hot she’d found it difficult to get to sleep in the first place.
She leant out of the window far enough to let him see she had nothing on underneath the wrap.
‘What is it, Greg?’ She made herself sound enthusiastic and loving.
‘Just heard, Sal.’ News! ‘Norton’s been captured and he’s due to be brought back here on the stage from Talbot.’
‘Really? The stage?’ That was a surprise.
‘It must have something to do with the storm that everyone says is due to strike any day now.’
Of course. ‘When will they get here? Do you know?’
‘Yeah, I checked the stage timetable for you, Sal.’
God, did the man want a medal? ‘Well?’
‘The next stage is due on Friday. It leaves Talbot early on Thursday morning.’
‘Does the marshal know?’ Morgan nodded. ‘You told him? Before me?’ Sal’s tone hardened.
A whine came into the man’s voice as he began to babble. ‘I wasn’t alone when the message came in. I couldn’t stop my lad from seeing it. Otherwise I’d’ve kept the news quiet and told you first. Honestly I would. He ran off with it to old Rayner before I could stop him. I’m real sorry, Sal. Does it matter?’
‘No, Greg, it’s not important, don’t worry.’
Rayner learning the news before her wasn’t a problem. He didn’t know she had plans.
‘I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble with the law, not when you’ve been so very helpful. You’ve done your best.’
The man’s face lit up. ‘Does that mean you’ll, you know, this evening?’
‘It’s what I promised, ain’t it? I’ll make the risks you’re taking for me worthwhile, you see if I don’t. Yeah, Greg darling, you come back here tonight and ask for me. And tell Queenie you ain’t got to pay. She’ll send you up to my room. Where I’ll be waiting. I’ll make sure you ain’t disappointed.’
‘Couldn’t I come now?’
‘No, sweetheart, I’m busy. Your wait will make it even more worthwhile.’ Sal blew the man a kiss and allowed him a glimpse of her naked breasts.
He went off with a smile and a spring in his step which made her laugh. Poor sap! As if Queenie would let in any customer without the means to pay in his pocket. As if Sal would let just anyone have her body for nothing. As far as both women were concerned, there was no such thing as a free ride!
Sal sat on the bed, thinking hard.
Friday . . . that should give her enough time. But she’d have to move fast.
After hastily dressing in the old clothes she’d put by, she dragged the carpetbag out from the back of the closet. The purse containing some of her money she hid in the deep inside pocket of her jacket where it would be safe. The rest was stored in the bottom of the bag. She tucked her gun into the belt of her skirt and put the knife in her jacket pocket, where she could get at both easily.
Despite the urgency of the situation she wasn’t leaving the brothel just yet. While she had enough money to start her new life in California, she could always do with more and, after all, she’d certainly earned it.
Besides, Queenie deserved to be punished. And because the madam loved money above everything else, stealing everything she had would be the best punishment to inflict on her.
Carefully Sal opened the bedroom door. The brothel was always quiet in the afternoon. The other girls and Queenie would be asleep. She tiptoed along the passage and peered over the stair-rail. No sign of the bouncer. He could be anywhere. Sal had no idea what he did during the day. She fingered her gun. She’d be more than willing to use it if necessary.
Avoiding the stair that creaked, she made her way down the stairs and along the hall to Queenie’s office at the back of the house. It was where the madam kept her papers and her money. From the very beginning Sal had made sure she learnt Queenie’s secrets and she knew the cash was kept in a tin box in the locked bottom drawer of the desk, while the key to the box stayed in the top drawer.
It wasn’t exactly a thief-proof system, but then Queenie probably never dreamt anyone would dare rob her, especially one of ‘her girls’. Queenie was so certain she had them cowed sufficiently that they would never dare cross her. That might be true of the rest. It wasn’t true of Sal. The madam was in for a nasty surprise.
Sal closed the office door with a quiet click and went over to the desk. Both drawers were locked but it was a matter of moments to use her knife to open them. The blade left several scratches behind but so what? She hoped Queenie would be upset at the damage.
There was the small key, hidden under some correspondence, and there was the large tin box. As she pulled it out, it felt quite heavy. Hopefully it contained several days’ takings. Queenie wasn’t exactly a welcome customer at the bank and only went there to deposit money once or twice a week.
Sal unlocked the box. What she saw made her eyes gleam. Coins and notes spilled out. Swiftly she stuffed the carpetbag with as much as she could. Time later, when she was safely away, to count it, sort it out and hide it properly with the rest of the money.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
Sal swung round. Queenie, a furious look on her face, hands on her hips, stood in the doorway.
‘What does it look like?’ Sal grinned. She threw some coins at Queenie, catching her in the face with them.
‘You little thief!’ Queenie then made a mistake. Instead of calling for help, she came further into the room, obviously believing she could handle Sal herself.
Sal grinned again, making the madam even angrier. ‘I’m taking what’s mine and what’s yours too.’
‘Oh no you ain’t! I’ll deal with you good and proper. Make you sorry you were ever born.’ Queenie reached for the heavy cane she kept by the desk. ‘I’ve been longing to do this for ages. It’s what you deserve, Miss High and Mighty.’ She advanced on Sal, raising the cane, a furious look on her face.
Before she could strike her, Sal acted first. She threw a roundhouse punch that caught Queenie square on the jaw, her ring cutting into the woman’s skin. Queenie’s head flew back and her eyes glazed over instantly. She collapsed onto the carpet and lay still. Sal kicked her once or twice. Then bending down she tore strips from the woman’s petticoat, fashioning a gag and strips to tie her hands and feet. She wasn’t gentle about any of it.
She considered knifing her. But letting her live with the knowledge of what had been done to her was even better. Q
ueenie would be left without any money and, with everyone knowing she was vulnerable, she’d be a laughing stock. Hopefully the other girls would seize their chance to flee her house and go somewhere better, leaving her with nothing.
After taking every single last coin, Sal crept to the door. Still no sounds, although she thought she heard someone stirring upstairs. Queenie opened her eyes and made a gurgling sound as she tried to get up.
‘Don’t!’ Sal kicked her again.
Queenie, a scared look on her face, collapsed back down on the floor, aware that her one-time employee meant business.
Clutching her bag Sal walked along the hall to the front door. With freedom so close, her heart began to thump and her mouth turned dry. One hand touched her gun. She wasn’t about to be stopped now.
Bolts secured the door, top and bottom. They slid back easily and noiselessly. With a little sigh of relief, she stepped outside – free and clear. There was no pursuit.
Without looking back, she ran down the street towards the stables. She’d done it! Mr Henderson would saddle a horse for her in exchange for more kisses and she’d be away. She could escape Serenity and go and find Darren. Rescue him and start out for California.
It was what she deserved.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was still dark when Greeley forced his prisoner to wake up and start on the last part of the journey to Talbot. Before they’d got far, the wind began to howl wildly and heavy black clouds scudded across the sky. It turned bitterly cold. Captain Chambers was right when he warned of a terrible storm coming and it looked like the storm would hit during the ride to Serenity. It made Greeley glad he’d decided to take the stage.
That was if they made it to Talbot in time to catch it. Quickly the going became hard and the horses got so jittery that he began to doubt they would.
In the event they reached the town with just thirty or so minutes to spare. The livery stable was just across the way from the Wells Fargo office and there, in the road outside, was the stagecoach. Lights shone from the office window.
Greeley got his rifle and saddlebags from his horse and gave Norton a slight push. ‘Let’s go.’ He’d be glad to get inside.
As he always did when entering a place, his eyes scanned the room. He saw they weren’t the only passengers. A man and woman, husband and wife probably and farmers if their clothes were anything to go by, sat at a table in the far corner, some packages at the man’s feet. They glanced up, eyes widening as they saw that Norton was in handcuffs. The farmer’s wife looked nervous. Who could blame her? She was about to make a long journey in precarious conditions and now, even worse, had an outlaw for company.
Shoving Norton down at the table as far from the couple as possible, Greeley went up to the counter. ‘Is the stage running on time?’
The clerk was a fussy little man with enormous whiskers. ‘Yes, sir, of course it is. Wells Fargo doesn’t let anything get in the way of its schedule.’ Importantly he consulted the clock on the wall behind him. ‘Be leaving in twenty minutes time. Would you and your prisoner like some coffee and biscuits while you wait?’
‘Please.’ Greeley sat down. When the clerk brought over their coffee he said, ‘You’d better warn your driver and guard they’ll have a wanted man on board.’
‘I’ll do that,’ the clerk said and hurried out the back.
A short while later the door opened again, letting in a blast of cold air, and a young woman in her early twenties stepped inside. She looked bedraggled and some of her fair hair had come loose from its pins and hung untidily around her face. Despite that, Greeley could see she was very pretty with a nice figure. She wore plain travelling clothes and was clutching a large bag.
‘Oh, thank goodness I haven’t missed the stage,’ she said in a small voice. ‘The wind was so bad it slowed me down and I feared I’d get here too late.’ She glanced around. ‘Is this all the passengers? I mean there is still a seat available for me isn’t there? Is it running on time?’
‘Yes, don’t you fret none, miss.’ The clerk obviously didn’t mind a pretty girl questioning Wells Fargo’s timetables. He led her over to the fire. ‘Warm yourself up while I get you some coffee. There’s seats aplenty and the stage is almost ready to go.’
With a smile the girl paid for her ticket and then putting down her bag, held her hands out to the stove, rubbing them together. She shivered.
‘Here, miss, why don’t you sit down?’ Greeley moved to another chair so she could take that next to the stove.
She lowered her eyes shyly. ‘Thank you. Are you a lawman? Is that your prisoner?’
‘He’s my prisoner, yes, but I’m a bounty hunter, not a lawman.’
‘Is he dangerous? Are we in any danger from him?’
‘There’s no reason for you or anyone else to be scared. He’s wearing handcuffs. He can’t hurt anyone. He knows I’ll deal with him soon enough if he tries.’ Greeley wasn’t above boasting in front of an attractive young woman. ‘Ain’t that right?’
Norton nodded, a surly expression on his face.
‘What’s he done?’
Reluctantly Greeley decided to tell her the truth and hope she wouldn’t be too upset. ‘He shot and killed a young man in Serenity.’ He heard the farmer’s intake of breath and saw him glance at his wife.
‘How awful!’ The girl looked shocked.
The farmer spoke up. ‘Is that really the bastard who shot young Arthur Hamlin?’
‘That he is, sir. Darren Norton.’
Norton mumbled something about not having yet been found guilty, but no one took any notice of him.
‘Of course we heard all about that, didn’t we, Ruthie? But as we don’t get into town all that often we didn’t know Arthur or his father except on nodding terms.’
‘But he always seemed such a nice boy,’ his wife added. ‘Real polite. His father was devastated at what happened. As was his fiancée, who’s the daughter of our nearest neighbours. Irene’s such a lovely girl. It was terrible.’
‘And we certainly don’t know him.’ The farmer nodded at Norton. ‘Asides from hearing that he often caused trouble in the saloons, drinking and gambling an’ such. Places like that should be closed down in my opinion. Look forward to seeing him swinging at the end of a rope.’
Norton said nothing but sat back and closed his eyes, not wanting anyone to see the fear in them; he had a devil-may-care reputation to maintain after all.
He’d been busy during the ride to Talbot plotting ways to escape, each one more elaborate and more unlikely to succeed than the last. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t as if he’d meant to shoot Arthur. Especially in front of numerous witnesses, most of whom would be willing to testify against him.
But he had and now that Serenity was getting ever closer he was petrified. There would be no reprieve. He was heading for the scaffold and there he’d be surrounded by jeering, cheering crowds of men and women laughing at his downfall. He could already feel the rope around his neck, tightening, tightening. . . .
Could he escape? There might be a chance. He’d seize it if it came.
After another short wait, the driver, a strong looking man of about fifty, came in. He said his name was Bill Brown and then added, ‘Stage is just about ready to leave, folks, if you’d care to get on board. Hang onto your hats, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride!’ He laughed loudly. ‘Even worse, Ray Daniels, my guard, is new to me and he ain’t never ridden this route afore. Could be trouble!’
As they went outside the farmer came up to the girl and said, ‘Hey, miss, don’t I know you from somewhere?’
She looked startled. ‘Oh no, sir, I don’t think so.’
‘Your face is real familiar.’
‘No, I . . .’
‘For goodness sake, Clarence,’ his wife said. She poked him in the side. ‘Leave the girl be and let’s get on board like the driver said.’
Outside with the wind howling around them, they handed their bags up to the driver who secured them firmly on top. B
oarding the coach, Greeley found himself between Norton and the girl, with the farmer and his wife opposite. The driver and his guard settled themselves onto the seat, Brown clicked the horses into a walk and they were off, swaying down Talbot’s main street, across some scrubland and out into open countryside.
On the way to Serenity.
CHAPTER NINE
‘As we’re all travelling to Serenity together, we oughtta introduce ourselves,’ the farmer said. ‘I’m Clarence Lewis and this here is my wife, Ruth.’
Up close Greeley saw that they were both in their fifties, with sunburnt and leathery skin and work-worn hands. Although it was what he had always wanted and expected to be, he knew a farmer’s life wasn’t easy, especially out here in Arizona where the weather and the dangers were so extreme.
‘Are you on your way home?’ he asked.
‘That’s right. Our farm is just outside Serenity. We’ve been in Talbot buying some piglets that were up for sale. Thought we’d try something new. Paid a reasonable price too. They’ll be following along in the next week or so after they’ve been weaned. Real pleased with the deal, ain’t we, Ruthie?’
The woman didn’t have a chance to reply as Lewis hurried on, ‘Should make us a real good profit. Pigs don’t need much looking after. All they do is eat and sleep. Ruthie also took the chance to meet up with a couple of friends she ain’t seen in a while. Women’s gossip,’ he chuckled. ‘Had a good time, didn’t you, hon, over coffee and cakes?’
‘It was lovely to see them again. We don’t see too many people on the farm and anyway we’re usually too busy to socialize,’ Ruth sighed.
Life on a farm was lonely too, especially for a woman. It was quite likely as well that Lewis’s somewhat ornery disposition put visitors off.
She stared out of the coach window and added rather forlornly, ‘I wish we’d listened to their warnings about the storm and decided not to go home yet. They said we should stay on in Talbot a couple of days till the worst blew over.’
