“Be careful, Marshal,” Lita mumbled, running her hand down Jessie’s arm as she walked by, following the rest of the women down the hallway.
Jessie went out the backdoor and circled around a dilapidated house, further down the alley, that was rented as shared-housing for low income residents. There were at least four of them along the other end of the alley, ranging in size. They usually housed four to eight single residents, or low income families.
Jack raised his pistol in the air, firing another shot as he moved past her position.
“Bert!” she shouted.
Jack turned towards her voice and a shot rang out. The bullet was nowhere near Jack when it hit a wooden trough, passed through and ricocheted off a tin sign. Water began pouring into the alley from the hole in the trough. Jack was momentarily distracted by what had just occurred, giving Jessie enough time to tackle him from behind. Jack fell forward, rolling to his back as he hit the ground, still grasping his pistol. Jessie stepped on his hand, crunching down hard with her boot, while aiming her pistol at his forehead.
“I never miss,” she growled through clenched teeth.
“Holy shit,” Bert mumbled, stammering up to them.
“Lock up this piece of shit,” she said, stepping on his hand a little harder before releasing her foot and taking his gun.
“I’ll get out, don’t worry,” he grinned, spitting on the ground next to her feet as Bert cuffed his hands.
“You’re lucky you’re going to jail. Where I come from, you would’ve had a hole in middle of your chest big enough to see through to the other side of the street.”
“Where is that?” he spat.
She leaned in close and whispered, “Hell,” before shoving him towards Bert.
She stuck Jack’s pistol through her gun belt to secure it as she watched Bert escort him away. Then, she walked down to Miss Mable’s, removing her hat when she stepped inside.
“Good heavens, he could’ve killed you,” Miss Mable gasped.
“If I’m that easy to get rid of, I shouldn’t be the Town Marshal,” Jessie replied. “Anyway, he’s gone, so the street is safe.”
“You really are a law lady,” Lita said, eyeing her up and down from her position on the staircase.
“I’m anything but…trust me,” Jessie sighed as she put her hat back on and left.
SEVEN
Bert finished locking up ‘High Card’ Jack Donovan on one count of carrying a gun within the town limit, which carried a simple fine; and three counts of discharging a weapon within the town limit, a much higher charge that warranted 24hrs behind bars. Jessie stood outside, leaning against a post, smoking a cigar. She kept her eyes trained on the street, all the while glancing at the General Trade from time to time.
“These are our most wanted outlaws and gangs,” Bert said, handing her a pile of Wanted posters.
She stepped back inside, looking at the two, oversized jail cells, before sitting down behind her desk, which was nothing more than a rickety, wooden table with a single drawer.
“They’re wanted for everything from robbing the stage to gun fighting in the street,” he continued.
Jessie looked through the bundle, sighing in relief when she didn’t recognize any of them. “How much has been done to shorten this stack?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“How many wanted outlaws have you arrested?”
“This year?” Bert questioned.
“Sure,” Jessie replied, shaking her head. “This week, this month, this year…since you’ve been a deputy.”
“We haven’t arrested any this year…I’m not sure about the number since I’ve been a deputy. Marshal Milford pretty much handled everything himself. If you want the truth, I think Walt was simply afraid of the outlaws. He usually let them run amuck, then cleaned up what they left behind.”
Jessie’s brow creased, forming a thin line along her forehead as she looked up at him. “I don’t work that way,” she stated plainly.
“Yeah, I kind of figured that with the way you took down ‘High Card’ Jack.”
“How well can you shoot a pistol, Bert?” she asked, remembering how his shot had gone awry during that ordeal.
“As good as anyone, I guess.”
Jessie raised a brow. “What about a shotgun?”
“Same.”
“Come on,” she said, standing up and tossing the pile of papers on the desk, before walking out of the building.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
She ignored his questions as they walked side by side down Main Street. “There are two things you need to be able to do if you’re going to be my deputy. The first one is have presence. When you walk down the streets of this town, walk like you own them. Walk down the middle. When you walk into an establishment, make your presence known, but without doing or saying anything. Whether you can shoot a pistol out of a man’s holster before his hand touches it, or not…shouldn’t be the question. It should be the answer. Make them think you can by the way you present yourself…without being cocky or snide. That’ll only get you killed.”
The look on Bert’s face made Jessie think he either wanted to take notes, or run as fast as he could.
“What’s number two?”
“Don’t get me killed, meaning you better know how to aim and shoot that pistol with your eyes closed,” she answered as they walked into the Rustler’s Den Saloon.
“Marshal Henry,” Elmer said, nodding towards her. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon. I heard you had a run in with ‘High Card’ Jack this morning.”
She simply nodded as she sat down on a stool.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“I’m looking for some old, empty bottles. You wouldn’t happen to have any lying around, would you?”
“Oh…I probably have some in the back. How many are you needing?”
Jessie looked at the deputy sitting next to her. “I guess about as many as Bert can carry.”
“Give me a minute to go look,” he said, walking away.
“What are we going to do?” Bert questioned.
“Make sure we have number two covered, then we’ll work on number one,” she answered.
The barkeeper had barely been gone a whole minute when some drunk plopped down on a stool, yelling, “Elmer!”
“He’ll be back in a minute,” she said.
“Well if it isn’t Lady Law,” he slurred. “I heard ol’ ‘High Card’ was looking for you this morning,” he mumbled. “Looks like he hasn’t found you yet.”
“He’s in jail, where he belongs, and where you’re going to be.”
“You can’t do anything to me, Lady Law. I’m unarmed,” he stammered. “You won’t last long around here, anyway. The mayor’s lost his damn mind…making a woman the town marshal. Ha!” he laughed. “When the gangs get word of you, outlaws are going to run this town.” He smacked his hand on the bar and yelled, “Elmer, get your ass out here!”
“Knock it off. He’ll be back in a minute.”
“I ain’t scared of no Lady Law,” he mumbled.
“That’s enough of your mouth,” Jessie growled as she got off her stool and grabbed him by the back of his dingy coat and collar. The drunkard ranted and raved as she shoved him out the door and tossed him in the horse trough nearby. “Sober up and take a damn bath!” she yelled.
Bert stood back, wide-eyed. He didn’t say a word as Jessie walked inside and sat back down.
“Here you go,” Elmer called, coming from the back with his arms full of glass liquor and wine bottles. “Lord, Otis. What happened to you?” he questioned in bewilderment at the wet man, standing in the doorway.
“Ask her!” he spat.
“You’re dripping water all over my floor. Get on outta here!” Elmer yelled, as he set the bottles down.
“I’ve had it with that belligerent drunk,” Jessie said.
“What did you do, toss him in
the trough?”
“You’re damn right.”
Elmer laughed. “Otis is a nuisance, but he’s not dangerous. Now, his mouth is another story.”
Jessie nodded in agreement. “Come on, Bert. We have work to do,” she said, pointing towards the stack of bottles.
He struggled to get them all wrapped up in his arms without breaking them, as Jessie walked away empty-handed.
***
Jessie set three bottles on top of an old tree that had fallen down, and counted fifty paces as she walked backwards, looking around at the open terrain of the cattle trail. The town of Boone Creek was behind them in the distance, on the other side of the stream, settled at the base of Boone Mountain. “All right,” she said, waving Bert over. “Draw your pistol and shoot the bottles.”
“Right here?” he asked.
Jessie tightened her jaw and crossed her arms.
Bert swallowed the lump in his throat and drew his pistol. Taking aim, he fired three shots. One out of three hit a bottle, causing the glass to pop and shatter.
Jessie shook her head. “Do it again!”
Bert fired two shots, breaking another bottle.
Jessie nodded for him to shoot the last one with his remaining bullet, which of course missed. “Reload,” she said, lining up another row of bottles.
Bert jumped in surprise as Jessie walked up behind him and drew her pistol. “I’m not going to bite you,” she growled, putting her left hand on the top of his shoulder. She stood against his back with her right arm stretched out and her gun aimed at the bottles. “Look down my arm at the sight,” she said. “Watch each bottle come into view.” She pulled the hammer back with her thumb and squeezed the trigger when each bottle came into view between the sights as her arm slowly moved from left to right. With every shot, a bottle burst into pieces, one by one by one. She stepped back when all of the bottles had been hit. “Let your eyes be your guide. Zero in on the target, then put your sights where your eyes are.”
Bert nodded before jogging over to the log to reset the bottles.
“Breathe,” Jessie murmured as he took aim, first with his eyes, then moving the gun sight to that position, just as she’d showed.
BANG! The first shot he fired missed, but he never broke concentration as he hit the other two. Then, without thinking, he moved his eyes back to the first bottle and hit it.
“That’s better,” Jessie said, walking back to the tree. She set up a pair of bottles this time, but put them several feet apart.
Bert took his stance, focused his eyes, and aimed the pistol. His first shot hit the bottle, then the second bottle shattered with his next bullet. He looked back at Jessie who was standing just off his left side, and smiled.
“Now, you have to get faster,” she informed, putting large, half-broken sections of the bottles on top of the log. Then, she stepped to where Bert was, drew her pistol, and fired consecutive shots, hitting each of the half bottles.
Bert’s jaw dropped.
“Your turn,” she said, putting more large pieces of glass on the log. “Find your mark, aim, and shoot, just like before, but do it faster.”
Bert took a deep breath, then looked, aimed, and shot. Each piece of glass exploded. He holstered his pistol and looked at her with a shocked expression.
Jessie’s mouthed formed a half smile. “Let’s try something else,” she mumbled, grabbing the remaining four bottles. She walked over to a large oak tree nearby. Bert watched quizzically as she placed bottles in random places in the tree and on the ground. “See if you can hit those without missing a shot.”
Bert reloaded his revolver and took aim, hitting each bottle.
“You have to be faster than that,” Jessie said, setting the bulky chunks of bottle in various places, high and low. “Search with your eyes, aim and squeeze at the same time.”
Bert did as he was told, only missing one of the four pieces. Jessie set them up again, and this time he hit them all. He was still slower than she wanted him to be, but at least he was hitting his target. Would he win a quick draw contest, no…but in a shootout, he might do okay and at least be able to cover her back if she needed it.
“One more thing,” she said. “This will help you get better and faster. Stand back behind me.”
She drew her gun with her right hand and tossed a palm-sixed shard of bottle up in the air as high as she could. With a single, quick shot, the glass shattered.
“Holy hell,” he gasped.
“I’ll toss the glass up. See if you can hit it,” she suggested, holstering her revolver.
Bert nodded and drew his gun. When she tossed the glass, he fired twice, but missed. She grabbed another piece and did it again.
“Keep trying. Focus, aim and shoot simultaneously.”
After four more tries, Bert finally hit a piece, but it took two shots to do it.
“You’ll get better and faster with time. It doesn’t happen overnight, at least we have you aiming, shooting, and hitting your target, now.”
“This is most I’ve ever shot a gun,” he said.
“Well, no wonder you sucked at it.”
Bert furrowed his brow, but he knew she was right. “What about a shotgun? We forgot to bring one.”
“No, I didn’t forget anything. Anyone can aim and shoot a shotgun, and hit a halfway decent target. It’s a lot harder to do it with a pistol. You don’t carry a shotgun in that holster, do you?”
“No,” he muttered.
They both turned at the sound of horse hoofs galloping in the distance. Jessie placed her hand slowly onto the grip of her pistol, releasing it when she recognized the mayor coming towards them from town. She rested her hands on her gun belt and waited.
“I was wondering what all the commotion was out here. I thought a bunch of bandits were fighting,” Mayor Montgomery yelled, slowing his horse to a trot as he came up on them. “I looked all over town for you, then figured I’d better come out myself and check things out when I couldn’t find either of you,” he added, dismounting his horse.
“I was giving Bert a shooting lesson. At this moment, he is officially trained to handle a firearm, at least enough to be a deputy. Before today, I would’ve had better luck with your horse backing me up,” she said with a bit of discontent in her voice.
“You see, that’s why I hired you.” He grinned.
Jessie pinned him with a stare.
“Bert, do me a favor and ride Lily-Anne back to town for me,” he said, handing Bert the horses reins. “The stable-hands will show you where she’s kept.”
“We need more deputies,” she said as the brown mare trotted off.
“I’m afraid I don’t have room in the budget,” Mayor Montgomery said, walking beside her as they slowly headed back to town on foot.
“Have you seen the amount of Wanted posters in my office?”
He nodded. “Most of them are non-perilous, wanted for petty crime.”
“And ‘High Card’ Jack, what would you call threatening a law officer’s life and shooting a pistol around like a fool in the street?”
“Speaking of Jack Donovan, you know you can only hold him for 24 hours.”
Jessie shook her head. “I know people like him. A night in jail is only going to piss him off. He’ll be back for more.”
“What do you suppose we do, hang him?” Mayor Montgomery scoffed.
“A better set of laws in place would be a good start. What about the more serious crimes? How often does the territory justice come by for trials? Once a month? Once a year? We have two jail cells. You want me to bring order to this town, get me some real laws to uphold. Otherwise, I’m wasting my time and risking my life for what…twenty-four hours of breathing easy?”
“Are you suggesting we have a vote to permit Frontier Law in Boone Creek?” he challenged with a stunned look on his face.
“Vote?”
“I can’t just change the town laws.”
“We
ll, you are the mayor,” she retorted. “Aren’t you?”
“Frontier Law is absolutely barbaric,” he huffed.
“Maybe for some, but for others, it’s a way of getting justice when there isn’t any,” she replied.
“And you’re familiar with these…laws?” he asked, chewing his mustache in thought.
“Yes, to some degree.”
“No wonder you draw first and ask questions later,” he mumbled, not wanting to attract attention to them as they entered the town limit.
Jessie grinned. No. That’s where you’re wrong, she thought. “Change the laws or don’t change the laws…but something has to be done, otherwise you should’ve just promoted Bert to Town Marshal.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Jessie Henry.”
“You get what you pay for in my world, Mayor Montgomery. I’m only trying to do my job.”
He held out his hand. “I’ll get back with you in a few days. Until then, follow protocol and let Jack Donovan out tomorrow…but watch your back.”
Jessie shook his hand and tipped her hat to him, before they parted ways. The mayor walked towards his office, and Jessie headed in the direction of the Marshal’s Office, just around the corner.
EIGHT
Jessie awoke mid-morning, as soon as the brothel had come to life with noise in the hallway. She’d been in Boone Creek for just over three weeks, and had developed a sleeping pattern based on the liveliness of the brothel. Most nights, it was quite noisy, so she worked late hours, walking the streets and checking on the activity in and around Six Gun Alley, leaving her to sleep later in the morning, when there was virtually no noise in the old house.
She watched the street below. Many of the town folk were happy to have her protecting their streets. Some questioned her ability, others questioned the idea of a woman being the town marshal on accounts of that behavior being improper for a lady. There were those who turned their nose up at her for dressing like a man, and there were those who praised her for standing up to the outlaws who tried to run the town. Whether people approved of her not, she didn’t care. She wasn’t there to make friends; she was there to do a job.
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