Wild Boys: Six Shooters and Fangs

by catt dahman

  “Will it be soon for him?

  Paris shook his head. "He believes it will be; I don’t know.”

  “Oh.”He asked me to do him a favor. He made me swear”

  For the first time, she looked at him and asked, “What?”

  "He asked me to take care of you.”

  “And you intend to?”

  “As best I can.”

  Frannie watched him drink. “Paris, my father never allowed me liquor ordinarily, but suddenly I feel the need. May I?”

  Without speaking, he got her a glass with water and poured.

  She swallowed the fiery liquid with a grimace and with deep satisfaction. For a few minutes, they sat there quietly.

  It was on the same porch weeks later that Paris again found her sitting alone. Mid-December, she was sitting in a rocker, shivering in an old faded quilt; the cold wind blew wisps of hair across her white face. She had been slowly getting her energy back but looked frail again that day.

  Paris spent his time working the ranch like it was his own; in his free time, what there was of it, he spent carving, practicing his draw, and sometimes playing cards. The men took his orders, and in many ways, he was running the ranch as his own.

  His boot heels clicked on the porch floor as he walked out and said, "It's cold out here."

  Although her face was turned towards the grove of bare Mimosa trees where Quinn was buried, Paris didn't think she was really looking at anything at all. “Frannie, are you all right?"

  She didn't answer.

  "Frannie?" He touched her shoulder gently.

  "I wonder if Doc is still alive."

  "I don't know,” Paris said. He had wondered the same thing many times but assumed so as they had not gotten a telegram saying otherwise.

  “No, I guess you don’t know.”

  Paris frowned. “Are you all right?" She was so white-faced, and mostly she kept herself locked away in her room except for rides under Paris’ guard. She didn't laugh anymore. He worried about Frannie a lot since Ford had left again to find Patrick and Joshua had been left to make all the decisions and to run the ranch. He simply wasn't old enough or experienced enough to make all of the choices. Frannie wouldn't help at all, and lately, Paris had been the one to run things.

  "I promised Doc that I would take care of you, but you aren't doing well, Frannie. Joshua can't make all the decisions; this is your ranch, too. Are you ill?" The ranch had, in fact, been left entirely to Frannie in Quinn's will.

  She made a motion with her hand under the quilt. "You decide about things. I will agree with whatever you decide. It’s all running fine."

  "Don't throw it all away, Frannie. Your father would want you to help run things."

  She nodded slightly. “The cleaning girls who come out, people in town…they’re all gossiping about me. Father would be so embarrassed."

  No one had dared to gossip within his hearing.

  She went on. "They all have their little suspicions."

  He looked at her blankly.

  "They're right; I wonder how they know?"

  "What?"

  "Paris, I'm pregnant.”

  He felt gut-shot. "Oh.”

  "Not much you can say is there?”

  "Doc would be pleased.” Paris couldn't think, didn't know what to say about it.

  “It won't have his name because we never married; it won't have a name at all." Her voice was filled with a terrible sadness. “After Daddy died, there was one night…I don’t know…I was drinking a little…he was very drunk…and to be honest, it was more of a failed attempt more than anything. I can’t believe that a few seconds of chaos and fumbling led to a pregnancy.”

  “It should have a name.” He swallowed a lump that was in his throat. He felt anger towards Doc for taking advantage of Frannie like she was a whore and would have had plenty to say to his friend, had Doc been there.

  She was quiet, not adding how she had been thinking of Paris that night. It had been a horrible night and one she tried to forget since it hardly counted against her virtue. It was over before she realized what was happening, but strangely, it was enough for a pregnancy.

  She was cried out over the mistake she made.

  "Frannie, Doc is closer to me than a brother could be. I swore I’d take care of you, and I want to. He'd expect me to make things all right. I ain't ever gonna be Doc or even like him, and I know you would never be fond of me, and that's just fine."

  She really looked at him this time, her head cocked, a frown creasing her forehead.

  "We’d never…you know...make it a real marriage, but Doc's child could be legitimate, and your reputation would be repaired.”

  "What do you mean?”

  "I want you to marry me. You are Quinn Masterson’s daughter; don’t sully his good name.”

  She studied him. “I don't love you," she lied. She didn't want him to do this out of pity or a poor sense of duty.

  She didn’t know how she felt besides desire when he held her close.

  "I don't love you either,” he lied in return, ignoring the pain her words caused but also relieved by them, "but you have to do something. You can't stop living, and the baby needs a last name, not that mime is so impressive."

  Her smile was slow. “It isn't a bad name…it’s a good name. I don’t think I want to be married although it is chivalrous of you to offer.” She wanted to be loved.

  “It would be in name only. When you meet another man one day and fall in love, I’ll give you your freedom.”

  Joshua stormed out onto the porch and interrupted Paris. He ranted and raved several minutes about having to make all the decisions. Then he wheeled around and angrily strode away.

  Frannie knew that something had to change. What was she to do with a ranch, a baby, and no husband?

  “Frannie, look....”

  She didn't let him finish. "Yes, Paris, I'll marry you,"

  "You will?"

  “I can't believe that you are taking your promise to John to this extent, but it does seem to be for the best.” She didn't believe that; nothing was for the best.

  He thought all of this was unreal. "When? When are we going to get married?"

  "Soon, I guess, I’m not far along, and people will think it is yours.”

  That appealed to him although he didn't tell her.

  Paris was a wealthy man from his inheritance and large card winnings. He bought Frannie a ring, a gold ring with a large diamond in it. She moved Doc's ring to her right hand so that she could wear Paris' ring properly.

  Joshua gave her away with Kit and Tell as witnesses in a simple, quiet ceremony. Tell and Kit asked many questions, but Paris hedged them as best he could until they guessed at the situation, knowing that Paris wasn't doing anything against his best friend, and thus, he had to be doing something for Doc, no matter how odd it seemed. In fact, during the ceremony, Frannie and Paris both behaved as if they were going through the motions and a million miles away.

  Quinn had planned an elaborate occasion for the other wedding, and it didn't seem proper to have anything like it without him there, and Frannie felt false, so the simple ceremony was the best.

  After the wedding, Frannie told Joshua that Paris would be making all of the decisions about the ranch from then on, and Joshua nodded meekly. When he offered his sister a glass of champagne, Paris interceded. “She won't be drinking.”

  Joshua looked at her questioningly, and she nodded agreement. Then she cut her eyes sharply at Paris.

  There was a great deal of celebrating although the wedding had been a surprise to everyone. Everyone showed off big smiles that were as fake as everything else. Not one person at the ceremony believed this was a union of love, but what it was, no one would or could say. Paris spent his wedding night alone, staring at the moon while he tried not to think. It was as he had promised and as he had expected; it would not be any different, but it was all right when he didn't think about it.

  Paris infuriated Frannie since he trea
ted her as if she might break. He rarely spoke, but when he did, there was a great finality to his words. Often she yelled at him for denying her something that he thought might be bad for the baby or wouldn't talk to her or would just watch her silently. Despite her irritation at Paris, her face did take on color again, and she began to feel and look better. Slowly she began to finish mourning.

  Frannie could not help but notice the kind of man that Paris was as she lived in close proximity to him. She knew that his sense of loyalty and his need to do what was right was what had made him marry her, and she couldn't help but admire that. In addition, she saw how hard he worked and how carefully he made decisions, pertaining to the ranch as if it were his own. He would risk her angry outbursts to protect her from what he thought dangerous or unhealthy. Grudgingly, Frannie had to admit to herself that she liked him again and wondered why she had disliked him for a while.

  She didn't know how this ridiculous marriage would play out, but she was glad for the child she carried. She sometimes felt a longing for Paris to look at her with soft eyes and something beside duty and loyalty to Doc, but she buried those thoughts as fast as she could.

  Usually Paris took her into town where he guarded her in a way that never failed to put her into a bad humor; however, a winter storm had blown in, causing cattle to scatter in all directions. Paris and the hands were trying to round them up before another storm could make the situation worse.

  Frannie had to go into town, so Paris sent Reps Hampton with her because he didn't abide her traveling alone.

  Reps talked to her as little as Paris did but stared at her with lovesick expressions that aggravated Frannie. Reps was also afraid of saying the wrong thing to her and bringing out Paris' wrath. Reps felt a secret pride in the fact that Paris had trusted him enough to take Mrs. Fallon into town.

  Frannie rode in the carriage beside Reps. It was cold and quiet that morning. From far away, she heard the sound of hoof beats approaching, and although there was no reason to be alarmed, her heartbeat sped up. Reps brought the carriage to a halt, his face showing wariness as well.

  On the day that Quinn Masterson had died, Quinn had faced eighteen men. Of those eighteen, eight had ridden away with three of them wounded. Reps and Frannie instantly recognized some of the approaching riders as the men who had been at the ranch when Quinn died.

  There were several who rode up, bursting from the woods on either side of the road. Daniel Lorrance was there, along with his brother Jim, Cato Hastings, and Brian Blalock. The other two men with them were the two that Frannie had seen before: Willie McCurry and Courtney Miller, the drunks who had insulted Frannie so long ago on the day she had met Paris, Doc, Kit, and Tell. One was the well-dressed, handsome vampyre called George and his friend, and then there was a beautiful black-haired woman who sat astride the saddle. They had eluded Tell’s posse by hiding out with the creatures. Frannie shivered.

  Reps found his voice. "What do you want?”

  "Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll pump you full of lead,” Hastings promised.

  “Don't do anything, Reps,” she ordered.

  “Get outta there," Daniel ordered Frannie.

  She climbed out of the carriage.

  Hastings helped Daniel unhitch the horse that pulled the carriage, and they produced a saddle that they quickly put on the mare. "Mount up,” Daniel told her.

  “Do you know that I am Francis Fallon?" she said as she made an attempt to stall. The name sounded odd to her ears.

  “That's why we're here.” Her blood ran cold. “Mount up,” he repeated.

  “Go to hell," she said quietly.

  Daniel reared back and backhanded her across the face with so much force that she went sprawling on the ground. Grunting with the effort, he kicked her several times, making her cry out and roll in an attempt to protect her stomach. Reps leaped for Daniel as he kicked the breath from Frannie, but Jim fired his six-shooter, hitting Reps in the shoulder. Daniel looked bored with the situation. “I need a messenger to take back what I have to say to your husband,” he told Frannie, "but if you don't mount up, I'm gonna kill the little bastard.” He motioned to Reps who was bleeding profusely.

  A seventh man rode in just then, frowned and dismounted when he saw Frannie. Quickly he pulled her to her feet. "Are you okay, ma’am?" He was a tall black man with a kind face.

  He glared at Daniel who only looked unconcerned. Daniel shrugged. “She ain't cooperating.

  The newcomer, with well-chiseled features was Coy Willis, an expert tracker whom the Lorrance boys had hired. He frowned a lot and wondered whom the boys were afraid of and who was chasing them; they said it was outlaws, but Coy thought the boys looked way too worried to be afraid of just some outlaws.

  Daniel told Frannie, "Now get on that horse like I told you to." Coy helped her up.

  Daniel was glaring at him now as were the other men, but Coy tilted his head. "It’s faster." He explained his actions.

  Jim tied Frannie's wrists to the saddle horn.

  Daniel looked at Reps coldly. "Boy, you tell Fallon that I have his woman. If he doesn't catch me quick enough, I'll kill her. If he does catch up with me, tell him I’ll kill him."

  “It was John Holliday who promised revenge.” Frannie reminded the man.

  “Your lunger lover is dead." Daniel laughed.

  Frannie spat on him, happily watching the spittle rolling down his face.

  Daniel squeezed her ankle roughly as he looked up at her. “l will enjoy killing you, and before I kill you, we will enjoy you so much. We’ll use you so hard that you'll beg me to kill you."

  "Tell Fallon he’d better hurry, or there won't be much left of her," Jim said as he sneered. "Tell Fallon to bring that half-assed Kit Darling if he wants and that used up old marshal as well."

  "They'll kill you," Frannie said dully.

  Coy Willis looked wary, but the others laughed.

  Reps pointed at Daniel with his good hand, blood covering the flesh from where he had been holding his wound. "You’ll face Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday's friend, and Bat Masterson, too."

  Jim grinned and said, "But she’ll be dead."

  With Hastings holding the reins of Frannie's horse, the men wheeled and thundered away.

  Reps watched them retreat.

  He began to walk. Dimly he wished he would bleed to death right there in the road; it would be far better than facing Paris Fallon with this news: that he had allowed Frannie to be kidnapped. He wanted to sit down and die. But he was afraid that he might live, and that spurred him to walk faster, despite his shivering and his dizzy, swimming head.

  The cold and shock from blood loss was making it hard for Reps to concentrate on walking. Once he fell and then could not remember for sure what direction he had been walking. Tears squeezed from under his lashes; frustration pounded at him.

  Coming upon a pool of blood in the road, he stood and wondered at it for some time before he realized that it was his own, where he had been shot, and that he had gotten turned around and merely back-tracked. He was no closer to help than before. Reps went to his knees with a wail of anguish that was loud in his ears but really only a whisper. Sunlight was retracting, the day was going darker by the second, but Reps hardly marveled at this. He was tired and sleepy.

  In a dream, he walked again down the road to get help.

  Chapter 17:

  Posse

  Tell Starr was riding out to the ranch when he saw the bloody body lying in the road. Close to it was the carriage that he recognized immediately. When he knelt by Reps, the boy came to with a start. “Mr. Starr.”

  “Son, I’m gonna get you some help.”

  “They got Mrs. Fallon.”

  "Who did?”

  "Lorrance boys and their men.” Reps felt a little better already now that someone else was there.

  With several curses, Tell dragged Reps up on his horse and rode to the ranch. Tell wasn't sure how bad Reps was injured, but he knew he had to get to Paris quickly; the rough
ride hurt Reps horribly, but neither Reps nor Tell had time to worry over that fact.

  Paris refused to let Joshua go find his sister since he had to keep the ranch going. Paris quickly got all of his provisions onto Bic even as Kit, Tell, and Perry Creek mounted their horses. It was all Paris needed, and except for the creatures with the outlaws, he might have gone alone.

  Tell easily picked up the trail; he had tracked for the army and Texas Rangers. Paris thought Tell to be the best tracker he had ever known. Tell shrugged and said, “Don't seem to be covering their trail any.”

  “Cause they want me to find them,” Paris said.

  They didn't have to ride hard. Tell dismounted at a fork in the road to muse over the prints thoughtfully. He looked over the area minutely, placing his fingertips into the impressions, leaning back on his haunches and rubbing his chin with a frown on his face.

  Kit asked him, "What's eatin' you, Tell?"

  The marshal looked up at Kit. "They've been joined by more men."

  Kit spat tobacco. "Makes it a little more even.” He grinned.

  "Mexicans, maybe.”

  "What?Paris thought he’d missed something.

  "Mexicans joined up with the Lorrance boys.”

  Creek snorted and said, "You can tell they're Mexicans by the prints of their horses?”

  "He can tell a man’s heart if he’s trackin' him," Paris told them in a soft voice.

  "Mexicans ride a certain way,” Tell couldn't explain it any better.

  "Daniel still having problems with that arm?” Kit asked.

  “Nah, ain't bothering him.” Tell looked at the prints for the answer. He pointed and said, “That man bothers me.”

  The others waited for him to explain.

  “Their tracker…he’s good; I’m reckoning you know him?”

  “Maybe,” Tell said.

  Perry Creek exploded. “You can tell all that from tracks?"

  “Sometimes." Tell frowned, “but it’s been a long time; hell, I ain't sure.”

  “You have a suspicion?” Paris pressed.

  Tell shook his head and said, “He rides hard to the left like a fellow I once knew.”

  “Who is it?”

  Tell wouldn't answer, but he seemed troubled.