The Outlaw's Kiss (an Old West Romance) (Wild West Brides)

by Karin, Anya

  “Clara? Oh, my, so you found my secret.”

  “I’m so sorry Seth. I couldn’t help myself from looking. You write so well and you had such beautiful words that I –”

  He raised a dismissive hand. “I’m not ashamed of my feelings for my wife. Why should I be? No less than Eli is ashamed of his for you. Though as I said, I do sometimes wish he’d find another way to express himself than to tell me of your beauty and decency for the eighth time in two days.”

  “I can hardly believe what you’re saying. He does that? Truly? You can’t be telling the truth.”

  Seth just smiled like a bemused cat and nodded. “Come on,” he said, tilting his head toward the door. “We’ve got something that’s needed doing for a long, long time. I’d like to gather a couple of deputies, but I’m not sure we could do it fast enough.” He thought for a moment and then shook his head. “No, no time. We’ll have to drag them to the jail ourselves. I don’t like asking you to do this, but I promise no harm will come to you. Okay?”

  I nodded somehow full of purpose instead of terror.

  *

  The trek to the other side of Deadwood, the outskirts where the majority of the prospectors lived, took only a few minutes. As soon as we crested the hill delineating the town proper from the tent-lined transient living area, Seth’s hand went to one of his pistols.

  “Watch yourself,” he said softly. “The folks out in these parts won’t take kindly to a sheriff lurking about in their territory. Stay close behind me. Oh, here, hold on to this.” He pressed a boot-knife into my hand. It had a small blade maybe three inches in length, but even that made me feel slightly more at ease.

  “All right,” I whispered. “How do you know they’ll be here, and not at the Gem?”

  A groan from a nearby tent made both of us duck low and turn in its direction. Seth shook his head. “Swearengen won’t let them in. They make too much trouble.”

  “Trouble? For the Gem? That’s saying quite a bit,” I said, stifling a chuckle. He turned back and smiled, then signaled for me to stay low and keep quiet.

  Silently, we crept through the tent town. It struck me as a point of great curiosity that so many of the townspeople lived in constructed homes like Mr. Bullock and myself, but then there were all these others who were subsisting on nothing but, evidently beans, and living on the ground underneath tents. I kicked a whiskey bottle on accident, and the man occupying the nearest tent groaned, then stirred.

  “Shhh,” Seth put his finger to his lips, and stayed still for a moment. When he was satisfied that the man wasn’t going to wake, he continued, motioning for me to follow.

  Sooner than I thought, we came to a tent with two pairs of bare feet sticking out of the entrance. It was larger than the others surrounding it, but still just barely spacious enough for two men to sleep abreast. “No sounds,” he said, cocking his gun as quietly as possible. He peered into the darkness, then when he was satisfied that we had the right tent, he grabbed Eustace Rawls by the foot.

  “Whassat? Huh?” Rawls sat bolt upright and immediately, Seth grabbed the collar of his long-johns and yanked him out of his tent, gun pressed against Rawls’s throat.

  “Quiet!” Seth snarled. “Keep your damn voice down or I’ll blow your brains all over your friend.”

  At that, Captain Ernie began to stir. “Eustace?” he groaned. “Where’d you come from? Hey! What’s going on?”

  Seth gritted his teeth and pushed his revolver harder against Eustace’s throat. “Keep quiet, Ernie,” he whispered. “You make a noise and I’ll put a bullet through Eustace’s head.”

  I took a slow, silent step backwards. They had yet to notice me. Rawls was held facing away from me and Ernie was still inside the tent. I clenched the little weapon in my fist, trying to banish the awful thought that I may have to use it.

  For an agonizingly long, tense moment, the Captain’s silhouette, thrown against the canvas by the huge campfire in the center of the tent city, sat unmoving, almost intimidating in its stillness. No one moved, no breeze blew; it was almost as though the entire world stopped turning while Ernie decided whether to go along with the sheriff, or not.

  “Ernie,” he urged in a soft voice. “Put your hands out in front of you and come out of the tent. I just need to ask you two a couple questions, you understand?” Seth shot a quick glance to me and I retreated a bit further, well outside of eyeshot. “Ernie, don’t reach over there. Don’t make me see if I remembered to load my gun. Oh, yeah, I remembered. I can see the bullets in there.”

  Rawls squirmed. “Just do what he says, Cap’n. This ain’t a time for making a stand. Whatever he’s got ain’t worth worrying about, nor gettin’ me shot over.”

  “Listen to your friend.” Seth’s voice was slow, calm and soothing. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  The big man in the tent grunted and his shadow shrugged its shoulders. “If you say so, Eustace. I dunno why this couldn’t have waited until morning though, if he ain’t arrestin’ us.”

  “That’s it, Ernie, that’s it. Nice and easy. Hands out front, just like that.” The sheriff eased Eustace to his feet, and retrieved one pair of handcuffs from his belt. Eustace hissed when he felt the cold metal slip around his wrists, but didn’t protest. “Hands out front. Good,” he repeated.

  With a deep breath, Ernie pushed to his feet and his head emerged from the tent. “Look here, Ernie,” Sheriff Bullock said. “Over here, good. They’re just for your safety, and mine.”

  As Seth locked the cuffs on Eustace, Ernie dropped to all fours, hands on the ground by his knees. Just then, both Seth and I saw a glint at exactly the same time. The butt of a gun, loose in an unsnapped holster, sat only inches from Captain Ernie’s fingers. Seth swallowed hard, then slid his pistol back into his gun belt without disengaging the hammer. His hand hovered above it like a gunfighter a half-second from killing a man.

  “Hands up, Ernie, get your hands off the ground and stand up. Don’t be a fool, Ernie. I see your gun. I’m warning you right now not to go for it, or even make me half-think you’re going to.”

  He struggled to hold Eustace’s hands still in the shackles. If he had to lunge at the Captain, Rawls could easily twist away, and I didn’t want to think what would happen next. Seth’s face showed clear strain as he tried to secure both men. The chains around Rawls’s wrists grated against the metal cuffs, and Ernie still crouched to the ground with his hand dangerously close to that pistol.

  “Get up, Ernie,” Seth growled, clenching his jaw.

  The big man’s hand moved, but not in the right direction.

  An image flashed through my mind of Seth firing his gun, Ernie dropping and Rawls getting away and somehow getting that chain between his hands around Seth’s throat. I swallowed, closed my eyes tight for a half of an instant, and then leaped out of the shadow behind the tent.

  “Wha’ in the hell?” Ernie cursed in a single syllable.

  I swatted the butt of his gun and, luckily, he was so surprised that he didn’t have the presence of mind to take a swing at me. His big, meaty hand would certainly have knocked me well clear, but in that panicked moment of chaos, I managed to stick my foot out and push the pistol away.

  Seth let out a nervous laugh then breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Couldn’t have done it better myself. You just keep amazing me.”

  “I surprised myself a bit,” I said, flushed but proud.

  “Hold this,” he said, and I took the chain between Rawls’s hands as Seth shackled the Captain and grabbed them both. “I hate to ask you to do this, but –”

  “You’ve said that a few times this evening, Sheriff,” I said with a grin. This was not the Clara I knew. Three months ago, I would have fainted at, well, most any of this. But without even thinking about it, I retrieved Ernie’s pistol from the ground and held it almost properly.

  By that time, the noise had roused the men in the adjacent tents, at least those who weren’t too drunk, anyway.

  “Hold that g
un on the Captain,” he said in a hushed voice.

  I did as he said.

  “All right, you two,” Seth said. “This doesn’t have to get messy. We’re going back to the courthouse and I’m going to ask you some questions, do you understand?”

  Rawls spat across the sheriff’s boot and Ernie grumbled something incoherent, but certainly vulgar.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. If either of you make a move, you’re getting a bullet in you. Am I being clear? Answer me, one of you.”

  “Yeah,” Rawls said. “I hear you.”

  “Good. Clara,” he turned to me briefly. “Pull back on that hammer until it clicks.”

  It was harder than I thought, but as soon as the mechanism made that noise and the trigger pushed forward against my finger, I knew I had it. “Got it,” I said.

  “Now don’t take it off him. Neither of these two are brave enough to try anything, especially since they both know better than to test me. Ain’t that right?”

  Rawls grunted his assent.

  As the tent city came to life around us, Seth and I backed, very slowly and very carefully, away and to the relative safety of the road leading to town.

  Eighteen

  October 8, 1878 – Dawn

  Deadwood, Dakota Territory

  Dawn stretched out over the eastern sky as we finally made our slow trek back to town with Rawls and his goon. The pair had been quiet for most of the mile’s journey, but that changed as soon as town, and the possibility that someone would listen, appeared before us.

  “What a wild injustice plays out,” Rawls began to scream at the top of his lungs. “Two peaceful citizens are bein’ dragged to town by a crooked sheriff! What injustice!”

  “Shut up!” Seth snarled. “It’s not my fault you couldn’t be happy just prospecting and needed vengeance.”

  “Vengeance?” Rawls’s voice was piercingly loud, echoing off the buildings that lined the mostly-empty streets. “I am a proud patriot who warned you of the raid by those bastard savages. If weren’t for me, that coward Eli Masterson wouldn’t be in your custody!”

  A little activity began to stir in a corner building as we passed. Lamps were lit, and a few confused faces appeared at windows.

  “Hey!” Someone shouted from the balcony. “The sheriff’s got Goldtooth and the Captain! He’s got ‘em both handcuffed, and that James woman’s pointing a gun at Ernie!”

  “Oh now, I didn’t expect this at all.” Seth’s voice was plainly unenthusiastic about this turn of events as he glanced back at me.

  Eustace spat and continued his tirade. “Maybe word got back to the fair people of this town about your vile disregard for justice? Maybe if you can’t quietly drag us away, you’ll have to stand tall for what you done? Injustice! Abuse! The sheriff is abusing his power. He’s trying to shame a decent citizen to save his criminal friend from going to court!”

  “Quiet, you,” Seth. He grabbed Rawls by the hair and jerked him around. “Quiet!”

  I rushed to Seth’s side and tried to calm down the thrashing he was putting on Eustace, hoping that would make the man keep his voice down somewhat. “That’s enough, sheriff,” I said. “That’s not going to help anything.

  Rawls answered with a wild, angry-sounding howl. Apparently, the sight of others infused him with a certain courage that allowed him to begin carrying on without fear of reprisal when moments before, he’d been resigned to a slow walk to the courthouse. Seth shot him a nasty glance, but turned back to face the town rather than fight, dragging him along behind by the chain connecting his wrist.

  Ernie just followed along, though he did send some nasty glares my way every few seconds.

  “What are we to do?”

  “Get to the courthouse. That’s all. Just get to the courthouse. Sol Star will be there for his shift at watching the jail,” Seth replied. “Just get to the courthouse.”

  “But what then?” I asked.

  Seth shook his head. “Think of it when we get there. Just keep going.”

  Rawls continued screeching and carrying on as Sheriff Bullock dragged him through the street. The more he screamed and yelled, the more people awakened from their beds, or their stupors, and came to watch. Slowly, though not as slowly as either I or Seth would’ve liked, the dirt street began to fill, and as it did, confusion gave way to chaos.

  Straight through the main intersection in the center of the town, we went. From all four sides, people emerged from rooms, and came out of doors. Some were leering, some shouting and some brandished weapons of all imaginable types.

  “Get to the courthouse,” Seth said through gritted teeth when he turned to check on me. “Just get to the courthouse, no matter what happens. We’ll be safe there, and as soon as we get these two in jail, everything will calm down.

  I ducked my head just in time for a coffee cup to sail past me and shatter against the wall. When I looked in the direction it flew from, such a crowd had gathered out front of a boarding house that I couldn’t begin to divine who’d thrown it, so I just ducked my head, drew my shawl up as a kind of make-shift shield against whatever else might go my way, and faced forward.

  My hands trembled, but I was determined not to show any fear, to show any weakness, in the face of the danger surrounding us. I knew it wouldn’t do any good. No one was waiting to sweep down from the heavens and pluck us from the earth. Get to the courthouse. Just get to the courthouse, no matter what happens. Seth’s words rattled in my mind.

  Something else – a bottle, I realized after it hit wood and exploded into a thousand tiny shards – whizzed past my head so closely that I felt the wind from it against my neck. That time, I didn’t bother turning to look.

  “Let ‘em go!” Someone shouted. “They ain’t done nothin’!”

  From where we were, the Gem stood a thousand feet on our left, and straight ahead, about the same distance, was the courthouse. The side that Itan and his band blew off to free Eli had been roughly patched, but was still a weak spot – only boards and plaster, rather than concrete. It wasn’t going to keep assailants out for long, but might give us just enough time to figure out a plan of escape, if it came to that. I hoped that Seth was right, and as soon as we got out of view and no one could hear Rawls’s endless ranting, they’d lose interest.

  But none of that mattered. Not until we actually got there.

  A thrown cup and a thrown bottle became a steady hail of hurled things, all of which missed, thankfully, but threw debris that didn’t. A mist of broken mortar and splintered wood struck my cheek, drawing blood, and forced me to look away for a moment in surprised pain.

  That one, single moment, was all it took.

  “Now!” Rawls shrieked. “Do what I pay you for!”

  The Captain turned and darted toward me, yanking his shackle chains out of the sheriff’s hands. He charged me like an enraged bull, but in the instant before he struck, I stumbled into one of the thousand muck-filled potholes on the road and tumbled forward.

  Ernie let out a terrible roar and dove at me, but missed and crunched his shoulder into the ground, going down with a howl.

  “Enough!” Seth fired two rounds into the air, but it did no good. “Enough, Ernie, stop this instant or you’ll get a bullet in the chest!”

  I stumbled a second time as I tried to regain my feet, barely getting my hands underneath me in time to stop from bouncing off the ground. Luckily, my combination of stumbling and trying to regain my footing pushed me close enough to Seth that he was able to help me off the ground before Ernie caught me with another charging shoulder, but not before the gun was throttled out of my hand by the impact, and bounced harmlessly into a wagon-wheel rut, disappearing beneath the brown water filling the rut.

  “Clara!” Seth shouted. “Get to the jail! Just go, I’ll handle these two.”

  The front door of the Gem swung open hard and fast, slapped against the whitewashed walls and then swung closed, then open, as first a handful, and then a whole crowd, of men emerged from i
nside to gawk at the proceedings. I took a quick look up to the balcony, but was surprised to see Mr. Swearengen still within somewhere.

  “Clara!” Seth called my name again, jarring me from my torpid trance. “Listen to me! Get up. Get to the jail and, here take this!”

  He fished a large, metal key-ring from his trousers pocket and stuffed it in my hand. “There’s no time,” he said. “Don’t worry about me; I can take care of myself. Take this, get to the jail, get Eli, and get the hell out of here!”

  The cold metal felt good in my hand, like an anchor that kept me from drifting back into panic. I closed my fingers around the ring, and shook it, making the keys bounce of my wrist. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “Go! Just go!”

  Another bottle whizzed past my head. A rock thumped against my shoulder.

  The jeering grew louder and louder until the sound took an almost physical form, crashing against me as I went. When I turned and started to run toward the courthouse, Mr. Star pushed open the door of the makeshift sheriff’s office, strode out into the street with a shotgun in his hand, and fired it in the air.

  With that huge, explosive boom that seemed to rattle the very street under my feet, everyone fell silent for a few seconds, just long enough for me to get my senses straight. My feet seemed drawn toward Mr. Star, but even as I walked in his direction, I turned my head, for some reason possessed to see if the Gem’s balcony was still unoccupied. At the precise moment I did, the glass door swung open and Al Swearengen stepped out, fully dressed.

  His black, piercing eyes caught my gaze and he held me enthralled for a moment. Still, my feet stumbled, one in front of the other, drawn by some unconscious force toward the jail, toward Eli, and hopefully, toward safety.

  Mr. Swearengen swept his hand in a dramatic wave – a gesture that no one in the street seemed to notice, for all the excitement began to rumble again – and then he turned on his heel and looked directly into the sun.