Texas Lucky

by Maggie James

  Now he was worried about gossip, she thought, annoyed.

  “Miss Partridge? That’s your name, ain’t it? Lester said it was. I’m Worley Branson, the law around here, and you don’t need to be afraid of me.”

  “Tell him you’re fine.” He lowered his hand.

  She did so, but uneasily, because she was anything but fine. In fact, she could not remember ever being so unfine.

  “Well, could you open the door and talk to me?” Worley Branson implored. “I need to speak with you about a couple of things.”

  She looked at the stranger, the man she was to share the rest of her life with, and, grim-faced and tight-lipped, he shook his head.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not dressed.”

  Worley Branson sighed. “Well, I’ll just have to talk through the door. There’s been a killin’, and the murderer got away. Somebody saw him near the stairs, and I’m checkin’ to see if anybody’s seen him up here.”

  A tiny worm of apprehension began to wriggle along her spine, and Tess fought against the ridiculous notion that the man standing behind her could actually be the murderer. He had known her name, known where she was…”

  “Miss Partridge?”

  “Yes.”

  “You seen anybody runnin’ through here?”

  It could not be him, and it made sense he would want to protect her virtue by not letting it be known he was in her room when they were not yet married.

  “No. No one,” she replied.

  “Well,” he said hesitantly, “there’s something else I got to tell you, and I sure wish you’d open the door. It just ain’t somethin’ I want to yell out.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to.”

  “It’s about the man you came out here to meet.”

  She smiled. No doubt he was going to tell her he had been looking for Saul to let him know she had arrived. But now there was no need. She started to tell him so, but the man behind her suddenly yanked her to him.

  The whisper at her ear was hot and fierce. “I’ll explain everything later, but you can’t let him know I’m in here. It wasn’t murder, but I’ll never get a fair trial, and if they catch me, they’re going to hang me. Please help me, lady. You’re my only hope.”

  Worley Branson, concerned by her silence, prodded, “Did you hear me, lady?”

  “Please…” the man beseeched as he reluctantly let her go.

  Tess swallowed hard, then spoke through the door. “Yes, I heard you.”

  “Well, I hate to have to tell you like this, but the man you came to meet—Saul Beckwith—got killed a couple of days ago. It was an accident. He was caught in cross fire when a gunfight broke out in the street.”

  Tess could not have been jolted harder had lightning struck her then and there.

  The stranger sensed what she was about to do and bolted for the window.

  But he was not fast enough.

  With a scream of terror, Tess yanked open the door.

  Chapter Two

  Too upset to carry out her plan to seek the preacher, Tess had endured a miserable night. The following day was not much better.

  The hotel, she quickly realized, was no more than a brothel. The girls working in the saloon below brought their customers upstairs, and, the walls being paper thin, Tess had heard everything that went on.

  Twice during the night, a fight had broken out when someone got tired of waiting his turn for pleasuring and started banging on a door.

  Tess had alternated between cringing in a corner of her room with a blanket over her head and restlessly pacing about as she worried what to do now that the world had collapsed around her.

  She had very little money. She had dumped the contents of her purse on the bed and determined that she had enough for perhaps two more nights’ lodging, and, if she did not eat much, food to last that many days.

  And then what?

  Nothing to do, she supposed, but send a wire to Aunt Elmina and ask for the money to return home, and only God above knew how she hated to do that.

  Worley Branson said he had buried Saul in the graveyard at the edge of town and that the man had no relatives he knew of. Neither did he have a home where Tess might have taken refuge till she figured out what to do next. Saul was a prospector, said to have a cabin somewhere out in the desert. Worley had no idea where, and Tess wasn’t about to go look for it.

  Also needling her was the awful memory of what had happened after she opened the door and began screaming.

  Worley had looked past her to see the stranger trying to go out the window. He’d drawn his gun and yelled at him to stop or he’d shoot.

  And the stranger, she had been stunned to see, had immediately raised his hands in surrender.

  As it turned out, she was not the only one shocked he had not attempted to make a stand. Worley had held him at bay after shouting down the hall to Lester to get help, and, while Lester was running to do so, Worley had taunted, “I thought you were supposed to be quick on the trigger, Hammond, but you ain’t shit.”

  The stranger had merely stood there in stony silence, arms over his head, looking at her like he wanted to strangle her.

  “This here’s Curt Hammond, little lady,” Worley had told her. “He killed Abe Pugh in cold blood.”

  Tess had turned away, withering beneath the scathing, hating eyes.

  Others had finally come to take him away, and they were far from gentle. She had winced at the sound of fists striking flesh as they went down the stairs, and she gasped aloud when she heard him fall and tumble to the boardwalk below.

  Lester had knocked on her door later to ask if she needed anything, and she had told him no, even though she was weak with hunger. She feared if she ate anything she would be sick because she was so upset.

  The night had dragged by, and, at dawn, Tess was wide awake but could not bring herself to go outside.

  Every so often there was more gunfire. More shouting and yelling. Horses thundering through town and women screaming as they snatched their children out of the street to safety.

  The day passed.

  Tess knew she could not continue hiding in her room. She had to have food.

  Finally, toward dusk, she tied on her bonnet, eased open the door, and stepped into the dark hall.

  Lester was not at his desk.

  Good.

  She had lost count of the number of times he had knocked on her door wanting to know if she needed anything.

  He had even stood there and given her a description of the murder Curt Hammond had committed, even though she did not want to hear it.

  Hammond, Lester said, had picked a fight with Abe, then shot him in cold blood.

  Tess supposed things like that happened all the time and wished she could close her eyes and open them to find it was all a nightmare, that she was back home, her world neat and orderly as it had been before the war…before her father came home to die after sealing her fate.

  She crept on down the dimly lit hallway, hoping she would not encounter some man looking for his evening’s pleasure.

  Reaching the boardwalk, she saw that the street was fairly deserted. People were having supper, she supposed, which was what she desperately wanted to do.

  She looked around for a café but did not see one.

  The church steeple loomed in the distance.

  She began walking in that direction. The minister would help her. He was probably married, and his wife would feed her. Maybe they would even invite her to stay in their house until she could figure out what to do next.

  Threatening clouds were approaching from the distant mountains. A brisk wind was blowing, whipping her skirt about her ankles. She stumbled on the uneven planks. Sand was blowing in her eyes, and she blinked furiously, unable to see where she was going. It was a terrible time to be out, and now she knew that was the reason no one was else was about.

  The shops were all closed, even the trading post, where she gazed through the window longingly at a basket of ap
ples. Oh, why hadn’t she gone out earlier? she chided herself. Why did she have to be such a willy-nilly? Probably if hunger hadn’t driven her, she’d have stayed holed up forever.

  That was something that greatly bothered Tess about herself—her cowardice. For a longtime, she had excused it as merely being shy, but then Perry had accused her of letting people walk all over her, never standing up for herself. He cited an example of how the butcher had once sold her spoiled meat, and she’d not gone back to complain, wanting to avoid confrontation.

  There were other examples, as well, but Tess had not worried about it. She did not like arguing; instead she sought to get along with everyone, and had always tried to be a good and obedient daughter, never crossing her father over anything.

  Until he sold her to Saul Beckwith.

  She supposed she should feel some kind of sadness over Saul Beckwith’s death but couldn’t. After all, she had not known him, and though it was unfortunate he had died so uselessly and tragically, the only sorrow she felt was for herself and her predicament.

  She had thought a lot about Curt Hammond and guiltily had to admit to a moment of excitement when she had believed he was the man she was to marry. Despite what he was—a killer—in the scant moments they’d had together, she had found him interesting and appealing.

  Strange, too, that she could feel remorse over him but not for Saul Beckwith.

  But maybe, she reasoned, that had to do with wondering whether she should have kept still and let him get away instead of acting like a hysterical fool, as she was prone to do when things went awry.

  Her aunt had even taunted her when she put her on the stagecoach that it was a good thing Saul Beckwith would be unable to get his money back. When he found out how nerveless she was, he’d know she was not suited for the rugged life of the West and realize he’d made a mistake by making the bargain without seeing her first.

  He would also be angry to see how skinny she was, Aunt Elmina had warned. Not enough meat on her bones to feed a crow, she’d snickered. Tess feared if she did not find something to eat soon, the crows might have a chance to find out if it was so.

  She was almost at the end of the boardwalk. In the blowing sand, she could see another building just beyond the alley. The church and a few small houses were situated beyond that, as though built to escape the bedlam of the town as much as possible.

  Tess did not see the two men step from the alley and bumped right into them.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I…” She trailed to frightened silence.

  They were huge men, both of them, wearing the outfit of most cowboys she had seen—denim pants, cotton shirts, cowhide vests, boots, and hat. But what startled was how they were looking at her, eyes narrowed to thin slits, twisted grins—leers, almost—on their whisker-stubbled faces.

  “Well, now, li'l lady”—the taller of the two grinned—“where you rushin’ to in this storm?”

  “I…I…” Tess could not find her voice and began to shrink away from them.

  “Aw, look, Billy Joe,” the man said to his partner. “She’s scared. Now, why do you suppose that is? Do we look all that fierce?”

  She smelled liquor, and her terror increased.

  “Naw, Pete,” the other answered. “We ain’t fierce a-tall. We’re real nice. Maybe we should show her just how nice we can be.”

  Tess struggled to speak past her tightly constricting throat. “No…I…leave me alone, please…”

  “Leave you alone? Did you hear that, Billy Joe? She ain’t friendly a-tall. I think we’d better teach her some manners whilst we’re showin’ her how nice we can be.”

  “I think so, too.”

  And they were upon her, one dipping to take her ankles while the other grabbed her around her waist.

  She screamed, and the one with his arms about her waist managed to lift a hand to hit her on the side of her head. “You shut your pie hole, damn you, or I’ll wring your neck like a chicken.”

  Her head pounding from the blow, Tess fought to hang on to consciousness as she was carried deeper into the shadowed alley.

  They dropped her roughly to the ground.

  A startled cat let out a loud screech before scrambling away.

  A trash barrel overturned, and Tess was dimly aware of the stench of rotting garbage.

  She felt rough fingers slip inside the collar of her dress and yank downward, exposing her chemise, and then that, too, was torn away.

  Someone grabbed her breasts and painfully squeezed. Beyond the buzzing, she heard their gloating voices. “Look at them teats. Who woulda thought a skinny thing like her would have such nice uns?”

  “They’s nice, all right, but let’s see the rest of her. It’s liable to start rainin’, and I want my turn.”

  “Well, you’re gonna wait’ll I get mine, by gum, ’cause I saw her first.”

  They were tearing at her skirt, her petticoats, and she tried to kick them, but they merely laughed at her sudden show of spirit and worked faster to render her naked.

  “Gonna be good….” The one called Pete cried as he positioned himself between her thighs and tugged at his trousers. “Gonna be real fine, and—”

  “And it’s gonna be the last thing you ever do, you son of a bitch.”

  The loud, grating voice cut into the stillness.

  Billy Joe went for his gun, but a sharp blow to his crotch with the butt of a shotgun took him to his knees with an agonized grunt.

  Pete, having leaped to his feet, also tried to draw against the intruder and was greeted with the next swing of the gun butt right across his face.

  A jawbone cracked, and two teeth flew out of his mouth as he fell backward to slide down the wall behind him in a heap to the ground.

  Tess managed to lift herself up on her elbows and stared in disbelief, thinking surely she was still dazed. The old woman standing over her holding a shotgun could not have been her savior.

  “You okay, li’l gal?”

  “I…I think so.”

  “That bastard didn’t get it in ya?”

  Tess did not have to be painted a picture to know what the woman meant. Gathering the remnants of her clothes about her, she said, “No, he didn’t, and I really appreciate—”

  “The only thing you ought to appreciate is learnin’ how to fend for yourself, girlie.” The woman held out a hand to her and yanked her to her feet. “My name’s Lulie Hayes, and I’ll bet you were the one supposed to be Saul’s bride.”

  “You…you knew Mr. Beckwith?”

  “Yeah, and—” Out of the corner of her eye Lulie saw the man she had hit in the crotch creeping away and ran to grab him by the back of his neck and spin him around. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere and leave your trash behind.” She waved the shotgun at the one on the ground. “Take him with you, and if I see you tryin’ somethin’ like this again, they’ll be takin’ both of you to the undertaker. You hear me, you no-good piece of coyote shit?”

  The man grabbed his partner and, still doubled over with pain, managed to drag him out of the alley to disappear around the corner.

  “Come on and let’s see if I can find something that’ll fit you.” Lulie made a clucking sound. “Lord, but you’re a skinny thing. Saul would’ve wanted me to fatten you up before he took you out to that shack he called home.”

  Tess had no other choice but to follow her. She sure couldn’t continue on to see the minister with her clothes hanging in shreds.

  She followed Lulie out the rear of the alley and to the back door of the building next to it.

  “This here’s my boardin’ house,” Lulie said proudly. “Ain’t got no name to it. Everybody knows it’s here. So did Saul, ’cause he stayed here every time he come to town. Loved my cookin’, he did.”

  Tess quickly understood why. They were in the kitchen, which smelled deliciously of frying chicken, simmering potato soup, and fresh-baked cider pies. And it was a cozy place, with flowers on the table and ruffled curtains at the window.

  “I was just
gettin’ ready to dish up supper to the boarders, but I ain’t called ’em yet. Good thing I didn’t. Might not have heard you screamin’. Now let’s get you cleaned up and changed, and then you can eat, too, and—”

  But Tess heard nothing more as she dropped to the floor in a dead faint.

  Chapter Three

  “I’ve never fainted before in my life,” Tess said, embarrassed, as Lulie sponged her face with a wet cloth. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  “You ain’t in the family way, are you? Saul wouldn’t have liked it one little bit if your family pawned you off on him already poked.”

  Lulie, with amazing strength despite her diminutive size, had managed to get Tess into her room just off the kitchen and onto her bed.

  Tess bolted upright to vehemently protest. “No. That’s not true. I swear it.”

  Lulie shrugged. “You ain’t got to prove nothin’ to me, ’cause it ain’t none of my business. How long since you ate?”

  “Day before yesterday. I had breakfast at the last way station and nothing since.”

  “Well, that’s why you fainted. You’re starved. Come on and let’s get some grub in you. I had to go ahead and call my boarders to the table while I was waiting for you to come around, and they done finished, but I set some back for you. I’ll go get it.”

  While she was gone, Tess looked about the room and saw that it was every bit as cozy as the kitchen, from the colorful quilt on the bed and the hooked rugs on the floor to the flower pots on the windowsill and the rocking chair with its pillowed back.

  Tess felt comfortable there, just as she felt comfortable being with Lulie despite her hardness and bizarre appearance. Her gray hair hung wild about her leathery face, and her brown eyes were deep-set and brooding like an old man looking back on his life and not liking what he sees.

  “I heard you’d got into town,” Lulie said when she returned with a tray of food. “Also heard what happened at the hotel, how that man you had in your room turned out to be the murderer they was lookin’ for.”

  “I didn’t have him in my room. He was there when I got back from taking my bath. He tried to make me think he was Mr. Beckwith. I guess he heard me asking about him when I got off the stage.”