Revenge Requires Two Graves

by George Emery Townsend

  Chapter 26

  Deep Creek

  “Ask the conductor what our next stop is and how much longer before we get there,” ordered Samantha Foster.

  Phillip leaned out of the window of the stagecoach and started calling to the conductor to gain his attention. “Sir, I say sir! May I have a moment, please?”

  “What can I do for you, partner?” answered the conductor as he moved his shotgun from his left hand to his right.

  “Miss Foster would like to inquire as to the name of our next stop and how much further do we have until we arrive?”

  “Well that ain’t always easy to answer out here, friend. But figurin’ we left Burnt Canyon a couple hours ago, I’d say we’ve got maybe another two or three hours until we reach Deep Creek. We’ll be stoppin’ there to change horses and get some vittles,” said the conductor as he scratched an itch.

  “Thank you kindly sir, I will pass your information on to Miss Foster,” said Phillip to the back of the conductor’s head as he had already turned away.

  “What did he say, Phillip? I can’t take this much longer,” barked Samantha.

  “Now, now, Miss Foster, calm yourself and I will tell you.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Phillip! Now, what did he say?’

  “Yes, Miss Foster, I forget myself, I do beg your forgiveness, Miss Foster.”

  “Shut up Phillip and for God's sake tell me what he said!” snapped Samantha.

  “Oh yes, well the Conductor told me that he thought we would arrive in two or three hours at a place called Dry Creek. There we will take on new horses and have some dinner.”

  “Thank God. This coach has been a living nightmare. I cannot endure much more of this. I’m covered in dust and I have sand climbing halfway up my body.”

  “Miss Foster, please, please don’t say things like that. You’re a lady,” scolded Phillip who had had all the dirt, filth, cussing and crass western ways he could stand. He was desperate for the cleanliness of the East, and wondered if he would ever get back to New York or Boston, where people were civilized.

  “Lady? Phillip, this stage has just about knocked all the lady right out of me,” shouted Samantha.

  “I understand your hardship Miss Foster. Once we reach Dry Creek there will be a place where you can freshen up a bit, I’m sure.”

  “I dearly hope so or there will be hell to pay!” pouted Samantha.

  The stage continued at a fast pace throwing dust and sand through the open windows. Suddenly the front wheel dropped down into the edge of a small dry riverbed and landed flatly into the center of the sand bottom. The impact forced the occupants on the stage to compress down into their seats. About the time they recovered, the coach lurched up the opposite side of the creek, flinging its passengers up off their seats and into the air. Phillip struck his head against the topside of the coach. Samantha ended up flailing to the coach floor with her dress blown up around her waist and her feet straight up in the air.

  “Damn it!” shouted Samantha.

  “Miss!” shouted Phillip as he rubbed his sore head.

  “Go to hell, Phillip! I’m done riding!” cried Samantha.

  “Go to hell you say. By all accounts Miss, I believe I have been there for the last several weeks,” sighed Phillip. Recovering himself he looked to Samantha, “I’m sure it isn’t much further Miss Foster,” said Phillip in his attempt to comfort her.

  All he got for his trouble was a look that could kill.

  There were still many long, bumpy, dirty miles down the trail before the coach finally pulled into the Dry Creek Station. It was nothing to get excited about, but out here it was more than they had expected. There was a large house, with a barn sitting near the stagecoach station with fields surrounded by fences.

  “Surely there will be a place here to freshen up before a proper dinner is served,” stated Samantha as she tried to wipe some of the dirt from her face with her dusty handkerchief.

  “Ho horses, ho!” shouted the driver as he pulled the team into the front of the station building.

  Jumping down from the box the conductor extended a hand to assist Samantha from the coach. “Hope the ride ain’t been too unpleasant Ma’am,” smiled the conductor.

  At first Samantha just glared at the man. Finally she took his hand and stepped from the coach. When her feet were on the ground her legs buckled under her. The conductor grabbed her to keep her from falling to the ground.

  “Unhand me, you vile man. Take your hands off me, how dare you touch me in such a way!” screamed Samantha as she slapped his hands away.

  “Ma’am I was only tryin’ to catch ya before you fell. I wasn’t tryin’ to touch ya, no way. Why I’m spoken for, my wife would kill me if she thought I was a grabbin’ other women, I mean ladies. Ma’am, no sir, I wasn’t grabbin’ nothin’, ma’am,” stuttered the conductor as his face turned beet red.

  “Yes well I’m fine now,” said Samantha as she straightened her dress, getting her land legs back under her. “Where is there a place where I can freshen up before dinner?”

  “Well ma’am that would be up to the house, there. The family that runs this station is real nice and they let us have the run of the place,” said the conductor, recovering from his emotional duress.

  “What about in the station, don’t they have a room?” asked Samantha, a little put out by having to walk up to the house.

  “Ma’am, you don’t want to spend much more time in the station than you have to. Why the flies are usually about an inch thick in there,” replied the conductor.

  “Then where do we eat? I can’t eat in a place like that!” asked Samantha, with an angry look on her face.

  “Well Ma’am most do suffer through and eat inside. Afraid of catching an arrow I guess. Myself, I always bring my vittles out here to eat. I grab a chair from inside and find me a place that ain’t too hot and sit right down. It’s too damn, excuse me Ma’am, it’s too hot outside for the flies. Would ya like it if I was to fetch you a plate and chair and bring it out here for ya?” offered the conductor.

  “That sounds better than sitting in there. I will return for dinner after I freshen up,” waived Samantha as she dismissed the conductor and walked towards the house.

  “Well I’ll be,” was all the conductor could think to say as he scratched the top of his balding head. He then turned and headed for the front door of the station with the driver and Phillip in tow. Phillip was shocked to see that the conductor had not exaggerated the situation but had actually played down the level of foulness of the station. Flies were covering every square inch of the place. And no wonder, it looked like no one had cleaned it in years. Phillip quickly turned around and headed back outside before he vomited his empty stomach. From behind he heard the conductor tell him to find a spot outside and that he’d fetch the vittles out to them.

  Phillip was relieved that he didn’t have to go back into that den of filth, until he remembered his dinner was coming from inside there. He leaned over a small bush next to the coach and emptied his stomach.

  Samantha strolled back from the main house swinging her bonnet in her hand and singing a song quietly to herself. She looked out to her surroundings and what she saw made her feel good.

  What an absolutely awful place, dirt and dust everywhere, not a tree to be found to shade you from the sun. Work all day in the blistering heat and for what? Places that people only stop at for a few moments and can’t wait to flee. "I am so fortunate that I have so much money. I can live anywhere I want, do anything I want, and I can act any way I want," thought Samantha gleefully.

  Samantha joined the men sitting on chairs in the shade of the stagecoach.

  “Here you go Miss; I saved you a chair here. It’s shady and there’s a little breeze that comes by once in awhile.” The conductor waved his hand towards the empty chair. “I got you some vittles too. They’re under the cloth. I didn’t want the flies to take a notion and get into your food.”

  Phillip caught a small s
urge in his throat at the words, flies and food. “Miss Foster, did you find adequate facilities to meet your needs?”

  “They were just adequate, but I didn’t expect much more from a dirty coach station way out here in this God forsaken land,” spouted Samantha.

  “Why Ma’am, you got no call sayin’ that about this country. Why I was born just on the other side of those hills there. I grew up around here, and loved every minute of it,” protested the driver. “Why, even my precious mother was laid to rest just about a mile from here.”

  “Do you still live around here?” questioned Samantha.

  “Why no Ma’am, I live in Independence now,” the driver said proudly.

  “Then I guess I was right. Not a place where anyone would want to live,” dismissed Samantha, eating a couple bites and then throwing the food onto the ground. “I can’t wait to get to civilization so I can have a decent meal. If you think I’m going to give a good account of this trip to your company, you have another thing coming!” Samantha rose from her chair and strolled off away from the station and the coach.

  “Miss, I’d be careful wanderin’ too far from the station, there’s Indians about,” called the Conductor.

  “Hush will ya, maybe the Indians will get her and we won’t have to put up with any more of her shit,” whispered the driver to the conductor.

  “You're dreaming partner. The Indians would just throw that one back,” laughed the conductor.

  Phillip rose from his seat pretending he did not hear their whispers, not wanting to give away his true opinion of Miss Foster.

  “Okay folks let’s get in the coach, the horses are ready to go!” called the driver as he lifted his tired bones from the chair. “Now where in hell did that hurricane of fire get off to?”

  “She was walking right over there just a second ago. Shit, you don’t reckon…?” panicked the conductor.

  “Oh hold on, there she is over there by the well. Probably had to kick a couple dogs and their pups before she left,” laughed the driver.

  At that Phillip let out an uncontrollable snicker, which he quickly tried to cover up with his hand over his mouth and a smothered cough. Trying not to look at the stage men, he headed quickly towards the coach.

  “Come on Miss Foster! We need to get back on the trail. Wouldn’t want to hang around here too damn long,” said the driver sarcastically.

  As the driver began to turn away, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye near Miss Foster. He turned quickly back to see what had moved. Just then, from a hiding place flat on the ground, a brave rose and charged head long toward the back of the girl. “Miss Foster! Behind you! Run!” yelled the driver as he pulled his revolver from its holster.

  “Miss. Behind you!” yelled the conductor as he grabbed his shotgun from the boot and ran in the direction of the attack.

  Samantha could hear their warning and see the men running toward her. She turned her head to see the fierce savage bearing down on her. The brave was less than forty feet away, when Samantha calmly bent over, raised the hem of her skirt slightly and pulled a small derringer from a holster strapped to her leg. She rose erect and extended her arm the full length from her body, seemingly enjoying the thrill, before she squeezed off one shot. To the amazement of the crowd that was now running to her aid, the brave curled over backwards and collapsed at Samantha’s feet. She emptied the spent shell from the gun and replaced it with a new round from a small purse she had hanging from her wrist. Upon returning her gun to the concealed holster, she brushed herself off, turned, and strolled towards the coach like nothing had ever happened.

  The driver and conductor stood, stock-still, with their mouths hanging open as she walked past.

  “Holy shit, did ya see that? She got him right between the eyes. One shot at a running target and she nailed him. I ain’t gonna bother that one the rest of the trip,” cautioned the driver.

  “You ain’t alone there, partner,” promised the conductor as he removed his hat and wiped out the sweat from inside.