She Wore It Tied-Down

by r. William Rogers

  The next order of business was to get on the trail to Santa Fe, and just about as quick as time would allow would be the best way of doing it, was the way they had it figured. They made short work of getting their belongings together, and after replenishing their supplies over at the mercantile, rode out.

  With the Santa Fe Trail being as well traveled as it was, it was a cinch to follow and they made good time that day and the next, crossing the Sangre de Cristos without mishap. They arrived in Santa Fe on the third day, trail weary but safe and sound. To their relief they had not seen a single redskin the entire way.

  Again feeling the need, they opted for the civilized comforts of a feather bed as well as a hot tub in which to scrape off the effects of the three long days on the trail.

  After regaining a semblance of humanity back into their souls, they then decided on the time-tested method of acquiring information about unsavory types and headed for the nearest of the saloons that seemed to be just about everywhere they looked.

  It was still a bit too early for things to be going real good, but despite the overabundance of elbow room in the Cattlemen’s Saloon, the place was pretty lively. The piano over in the corner was being played loudly if nothing else.

  Dolly and Wayne remained outside the establishment peering over the tops of the batwings. A drover approached them from inside, seemingly sober. He excused himself as they parted, allowing him access to the lineup of horses tied to the hitchrail. He found his mare and mounted, eyeing them all the while and most likely thankful he was leaving before things got out of hand, judging from the way the pair of new arrivals were wearing ’em tied down.

  Figuring the fella was most likely heading back to his outfit to ride herd later that night, Wayne touched a fingertip to the brim of his hat, giving the cowhand cause to nod once in acknowledgement before reining around and heading out.

  The drover glanced back over his shoulder before kicking his mare into a bone-jarring trot in his haste to get outta there.

  Turning back toward the doorway, the smell of searing steaks reminded Wayne and Dolly that they were hungry.

  “You up to stuffin’ some a that dead steer down yer throat?” he asked.

  “You just try an’ stop me,” she said and pushed past him and into the room.

  When the piano ceased abruptly, it served as the signal for everyone to look at the doorway. It took only about three or four seconds for the entire place to come to what was pretty much a complete standstill. Of course it wasn’t so much that a pair of gunfighters had entered, heck, that happened all the time, what held everyone’s attention was the realization that one of them was of the female persuasion...now that right there was a horse of a different color, so to speak.

  Dolly sucked in a huge helping of tenacity before heading for an empty table she’d spotted along the far wall. Wayne was right behind, eyeing the room openly all the way. No sooner had they taken their seats, then the music resumed and the room returned to its former level of what could only be described as controlled chaos.

  A waitress of sorts sauntered up to them. “What’ll it be? You here for eatin’, drinkin’, or somethin’ else?” she asked and flicked a glance toward the balcony that lined the upper part of the room along the opposite wall.

  Dolly felt the heated rush of embarrassment push up into her cheeks, flushing her crimson. She lowered her head, allowing her hat brim to hide her discomfort.

  “Bring us a couple of steaks, some beans, an’ two cups of coffee,” Wayne ordered cordially.

  “Anything else?”

  “Only if you know anything about two lowlife brothers and their father that have a way of treatin’ women like they ain’t even worth a half a wagonload of sundried cow pies.”

  “I don’t know about the brother/father part of it, but probably half the population that comes in here would fit the rest of that description.” She turned on the balls of her feet and was gone.

  They sat in silence, him watching the room, while Dolly withdrew within herself, deep in thought.

  He noticed her preoccupation. “Looks like you got somethin’ eatin’ on you. You wanna talk about it?”

  She forced a smile. “Ohh...it’s nothing. It’s just that I was a bit upset that I was forced into gunning that Simon fella.”

  “You said was. Does that mean that you’ve been able to conclude that it was indeed justified? He already had his gun out and was gonna shoot you first...in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “I haven’t forgotten. But still, he wasn’t one of the three I was needing to pay back.”

  “Yeah, but, he was as much a part of it in the end as they were.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Well, because of what that crippled fella said about Simon tellin’ ever’one that they’d shot yer pa down in self defense. What with him knowin’ the real truth makes him just as guilty as if he’d done the trigger pullin’ hisself...at least that’s my way of thinking.”

  She sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Besides, when you get right down to it, those three murderers deserved to lose a relative...same as I did.”

  “Now yer talkin’.”

  “I guess an eye for an eye and a tooth for as tooth could just as well be said...a relative for a relative,” she said, trying to fit it all into perspective.

  The steaks and beans arrived and were placed on the table in front of them along with a salt and pepper shaker and two cups of black coffee that didn’t look to be more than a day or two old. Wayne took a sip of his while the complacent waitress dug into her dress pocket for a couple of knives and a fork or two. The coffee was about as bitter as it looked, but he hid his displeasure well, by grimacing only slightly.

  “Anything else?” she asked.

  He was sorely tempted to let her know that he could easily do without the coffee, but before he could make that mistake, a scream from upstairs drew everyone’s attention, again stopping the piano dead in its tracks. It was barely a split second later that one of the upstairs doors flew open and a scantily clad woman burst onto the landing. She was immediately joined by an irate customer who was also scantily clad.

  “Why you little...” he said, and raising his hand, slapped her savagely across the face.

  The sound of the force of the blow reverberated through the room as the whore was thrown against the balcony railing, causing it to crack and then splinter. She teetered dangerously for a brief moment before continuing on over and falling onto one of the tables below, smashing it to smithereens.

  Dolly was horrified, and immediately remembered her own abusive episode. She cringed, first looking at the moaning figure laying atop the wreckage then quickly shifting her gaze to the still sneering figure standing triumphantly in the space the broken railing had left behind. It was then that the light of recognition went on.

  “That’s him!” she exclaimed, pointing at the figure.

  He turned his longhandled-clad body to face her squarely.

  “That’s Walt Jacobs!” she repeated.

  Her reactions had not only been slowed, they’d been brought to a complete standstill as she looked into the sneer of the hated man. He was the first to regain his senses and bolted for the open doorway immediately behind him.

  Seeing him disappear brought her back to her senses, she immediately sprang into action, completely forgetting about the injured woman who was even now being attended to by a couple of the other barmaids, including the one who had just waited on them. She could feel Wayne’s presence right behind her as she ran to the stairway and bounded up the stairs, pulling her gun in the process. She slowed as she came to the open doorway. She crouched menacingly, and after sucking in a needed breath of courage, thumbed back the hammer and burst into the room.

  To her chagrin, it was empty. She quickly looked behind the door...nothing. It was then that she caught sight of the boots lying on their sides partially under the foot of the bed. Her attention was then drawn to the open window with its curtain flappi
ng in the slight breeze. The sound of a galloping horse reached her ears.

  Her heart sank.

  She hastily crossed to the window and jerked the curtain aside. The sight of the fleeing man slapping his galloping horse from side to side with the end of the rein instantly angered her. Knowing he was already out of effective range for the Peacemaker she emptied it after him anyway, fanning the hammer repeatedly in teary-eyed frustration.

  Chapter 21

  After pulling herself back together, she rushed out of the room and down the stairs, barely managing to keep herself upright as she bounded down three and sometimes four at a time. She quickly crossed to the front entrance and pushed out onto the porch, bumping her way past an arriving customer in the process. She mumbled something about being sorry and continued the rest of the way out into the street.

  He was gone. Walt Jacobs was nowhere to be seen.

  She slumped to her knees in the dirt, dejected, lost, her heart pounding incessantly against the left side of her neck.

  “You alright?” Wayne asked breathlessly, once he’d caught up to her. He squatted on his haunches next to her.

  She looked at him sorrowfully; tears of frustration covered her cheeks. She palmed them aside, first one side then the other. “He was right there,” she whispered hoarsely, between shudders. “He was right there and I didn’t even come close to getting him.”

  He smiled.

  “What? What?” she asked, raising an exasperated hand skyward.

  “Ohhh, nothing...really. It’s just that I guess I didn’t put two ’n two together before. I mean...I did...but...well...”

  The area between her eyes narrowed, wrinkling. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning...that no matter how you wear that six-gun,” he gestured toward it, “and no matter how good you are with it, yer still a girl. Through an’ through you’re still a girl.”

  She wiped away the last remnants. “Yeah...well...I guess I’ve been called worse.”

  She smiled what he figured was undoubtedly a forced smile and allowed him to help her up.

  They remained close to one another for longer than what was really necessary to ensure her remaining on an even keel. They stood in silent uneasiness while holding onto one another’s upper arms, each looking into the other’s eyes, almost as if delving into the souls within.

  “I...eh...we best be getting back inside,” she finally came up with; breaking what had become almost a trancelike standoff. “There’s no chance of catching up to that murdering skunk in the dark, but somebody in there,” she jerked her head toward the saloon behind her, “might be able to tell us something that’d be of a help.”

  “Yeah...I guess yer right,” he conceded, despite being truly content to remain right where he was. “That’d make the most sense...I-I reckon.”

  The scene inside the Cattlemen’s had settled down considerably. Mercifully, the piano remained silent.

  “Anyone here know anything about that fella who did this?” Dolly asked, as she knelt beside the barmaid, while glancing around at the circle of concerned faces.

  “Just that he was a drifter,” the woman who had waited on them replied. “He showed up earlier in the day with two other fellas. One of ’em was older. Old enough to be their pa if you asked me. They’ve been in here drinking an’ carousing ever since.”

  “You said they were in here most of the day. Does that mean that the other two could still be in here?” Dolly asked. Unwilling to wait for an answer, and suddenly feeling a need to see into each of the upstairs rooms, she got to her feet, her hand resting on the butt of the Peacemaker while she scanned the doors that lined the balcony.

  “Far as I know they could be up there right now,” the waitress said, and waved toward the broken railing.

  Dolly could have sworn that she caught a glimpse of the slightest of movement as one of the doors seemed to have moved. She looked at Wayne, grim determination settled into her lower jaw. “You ready?” she asked coldly.

  “Yeah,” he replied in a tone that matched hers. “Let’s go.”

  They headed for the staircase, pausing at the bottom as the creaking of the protesting hinges that supported the batwings drew their attention. A bespeckled, rotund gent, carrying a small black leather case pushed into the room.

  The doc had arrived.

  Refocusing their attention, they began climbing the stairs, guns drawn, eyes darting from one door to the next...and the next.

  Reaching the first one, Dolly hesitated, not at all fond of butting in on anyone who might be indulging in pleasures of the flesh, paid for or not. She reached out with a tentative hand, but couldn’t make herself grab ahold of the knob.

  Seeing her reluctance, Wayne nudged her aside and turned the knob. She then took cover behind the doorjamb while he shoved the door into the room.

  Dolly burst past him, her Colt held at the ready. The room was empty. “I think I saw that one move a bit ago,” she whispered, while using the barrel of the Colt to indicate the next door down the line.

  He nodded in wordless understanding and took the lead as they hastily, but silently, made their way along the brightly carpeted landing. Reaching the door, he grasped the knob, turned it with slow deliberation, and after taking a deep breath, thrust the door inward.

  “What’dya want?” the woman sitting on the bed with the bedclothes pulled up around her neck asked. Fear filled her eyes. “What was all that ruckus out there?” she asked.

  “You alone?” Dolly asked, looking behind the door.

  “I am now. What’s going on?”

  “Was there someone else in here just a bit ago?” Wayne asked, looking at the open window next to the bed.

  “Yeah...but he made a hasty exit shortly after all the shootin’ out in the street had died down.” She motioned the covers toward the window. “That way. He took a quick peek out the door, grabbed up his clothes and boots, an’ ducked out the window. Didn’t even remember to leave any money, neither. Sure am getting’ fed up with his kind.”

  “You catch his name by any chance?” Dolly asked.

  “I ain’t prone to remembering fella’s names. I’d rather just remember other things about ’em...if you get my meanin’. But as I recall he did say it when we was downstairs drinkin’ earlier, but I didn’t pay a whole lotta—”

  “Was it Jake or Lucas?” Dolly asked.

  A smile of recognition lit up her face. “Yeah, believe it was...now that cha mention it. I knew it started with an L. And that other name, Jake...far as I know he’s in the next room with Wilma.” She gestured the covers toward the wall.

  Dolly was slightly agitated. “Why didn’t you say that before?”

  “Like I’m supposed to know?”

  “Forget it. Wayne...watch out the window, I’m going in the front.”

  Wayne did more than just watch out the window, he ducked through the open window and climbed out onto the wood-shingled porch overhang as Dolly rushed out of the room. She quickly made her way to the next door down the line, determined to not miss out on her last chance to take care of another one of the Jacobs clan.

  She didn’t hesitate as she pushed into the room, her Colt thumbed back and ready to give Jake what he’d been missing out on for way too long now.

  The room was just about as empty as the previous one had been. That is to say, Wilma sat on the bed, but not nearly as covered up as the other whore had been. But, more importantly, Jake was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where is he?” Dolly asked. “Where’s the fella who was just in here?”

  “I...he...he went out the window.” She pointed. “That other fella, Luke, stuck his head in the window and said that they had ta make tracks. Said that the gal from up north was here and that they had to get outta here an’ quick. You that gal he was talking about?”

  Dolly hurried to the open window and stuck her head outside. “Wayne...you see any sign of them?”

  He was down on one knee along the edge where he had been leaning out over the
porch overhang, trying his best to see what was under it. Turning to look at her, he said, “I ain’t sure. I just heard somethin’ that got me to—”

  Suddenly, a shot sounded from somewhere under the porch. To her horror, she watched helplessly as Wayne was spun around from the force of being hit and toppled off the roof, hitting the ground with a muffled...Thump.

  She hastily stooped her way through the window opening and out onto the shingles. The sound of someone running along the boardwalk below could be heard as she hurried to the edge and peered over.

  Wayne lay motionless in the dirt. His six-gun rested about a foot from his outstretched hand. He looked to be dead. She lowered herself onto her stomach, and while looking under the overhang, tried the best she could to locate the source of the sound of running boots.

  Unable to stretch over far enough to do any good, she carefully worked her way to a sitting position with her legs dangling over the edge. She took a measuring gander at the ground below and after giving her legs a real good swing out in front of her, catapulted herself out into thin air.

  She landed with a jarring jolt that took her a moment or two to recover from, during which time the sound of running horses faded into nothingness between the Cattleman’s Saloon and the building next door. Realizing that she was again too late, she turned her full attention on Wayne.

  Blood shown just above his left temple. It was also trickling down across his cheek. She knelt and placed an ear near his mouth. A slight smile appeared on her face. He was still alive. Remembering the doctor who had arrived to care for the woman who had fallen from the balcony, she looked up toward the lighted interior of the saloon.

  Just as she was about to make up her mind to go for help, two men emerged onto the porch.

  “Heard the shootin’. He been shot?” one of them asked.

  “Yeah. Is that doc able to get loose long enough to have a look at him?” Dolly asked anxiously.

  “Most likely,” the man answered. “The gal what fell onta that table done expired.”

  Dolly was sorry to hear that, but immediately figured that by him killing the barmaid put just that much more incentive into her desire to find and kill that woman-abusing scum, Walt Jacobs. “Maybe it’d be easier to just carry him inside.”