Boone Creek

by Graysen Morgen

  Jessie tipped her hat and pulled her eyes away. She’d gone into the store simply because Ellie had been watching her, but nonetheless, she needed more kerosene for the jailhouse lamp, which she’d forgotten to get earlier that day. Otherwise, their prisoner would be spending the night in the dark.

  “I have some new tea leaves, took them in on trade a bit ago. They’re mint flavored,” Ellie said.

  “I’m afraid I have no way of preparing them where I board.”

  “I just made a fresh pot upstairs. Would you like to try it?”

  “Uh…sure. I’d love to.”

  “I’ll be right down,” Ellie said, heading up the iron, spiraled staircase that led to her room on the second floor of the building.

  Jessie grabbed the jars of kerosene that she’d come for and set them on the counter, where she waited for Ellie to return. She removed her hat and swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She’d never been invited for tea, and wasn’t sure of the proper etiquette. “Here, let me help you with that,” she said, moving to assist as Ellie walked down the stairs carrying a tea pot in one hand, and a stack of cups in the other.

  “It’s quite all right,” Ellie replied, stepping carefully off the last step.

  Jessie remained close by in case she had another incident.

  “I believe you’re supposed to drink it as is, but I’m sure a drop of milk would be fine. However, I don’t think sugar goes well with mint,” Ellie explained, filling two of the cups.

  “I’m fine with it like this.” Jessie picked up one of the cups.

  “Where did you say you were from?” Ellie asked, taking a small sip.

  “The south,” Jessie answered, taking a large, nervous swallow. She coughed a few times, trying to breathe while her throat burned. “That’s some strong stuff,” she mumbled.

  Ellie laughed. “Well, that’s because you’re supposed to sip it, not chug it like a glass of whiskey.”

  Jessie only nodded. It was the first time she’d ever heard Ellie laugh, or seen her smile for that matter. The sound of her laughter was endearing, and the smile on her face made her appear much softer than the hard-edged, young woman Jessie had first met. If it wasn’t for the aroma of the tea tickling her senses, she would’ve forgotten to breathe. Taking a much smaller sip, she savored the flavor.

  Noticing her enjoyment, Ellie said, “See, it’s not bad when you drink it properly.”

  “I agree.” She grinned.

  “The south is pretty large,” Ellie muttered.

  “So is the state of Texas,” Jessie said. “What about you? Where are you from?”

  “A small town outside of Dodge City.”

  Jessie nodded. “I’ve been to Kansas…never made it to Dodge, though.”

  “Well…” Ellie cleared her throat. “I should probably get these rung up for you,” Ellie stated, grabbing the two jars and moving over to the register. “Didn’t you just come in for kerosene?”

  “The inside of the jail has to be lit up at night when we have someone locked up. Otherwise, he’d be in complete darkness from sun down to sun up. Thankfully, he’s only here for a few more weeks. His trial date has been set.” Jessie pulled a couple of trade dollars from her vest pocket, setting them on the counter before slipping her hat back on. “Add a tin of these tea leaves, too. Please.”

  “I thought you said you couldn’t make it.”

  “I can’t, but I know someone who can. I think she’ll like it.”

  TWELVE

  The next evening, Jessie found herself in the middle of another saloon fight at the Rustler’s Den. They seemed to be becoming nightly occurrences. She and Bert stood no chance against the four men as they tussled in the street. Thankfully, none of them was wearing a gun belt.

  “Break it up!” Bert yelled.

  Jessie had finally had enough, especially when she noticed one of the men had a pistol tucked into his pants under his vest. She drew her pistol, firing a warning shot into the air. “Damn it! You’re going to all calm down, or you can spend the night in the jail!” she shouted, putting her gun back in the holster. “I don’t care who started it or what you were fighting over to begin with. It’s done. It ends here. Call it a night and go home.”

  “You pansy-ass law lady can’t tell me what to do,” one of the men slurred.

  “As the Town Marshal, I damn sure can. Now, get moving!” she growled, placing her hands on her gun belt.

  Bert saw one of the other men move, but before he could say anything, the man reached for the gun under his vest. Jessie saw his shadow waver on the ground in the lamp lighting and spun around with her hand on the butt of her pistol.

  “I’ll shoot your hand right off your arm before you ever get to it, so don’t even think about it.”

  “You don’t scare me,” he sneered.

  Jessie laughed, “If you scare me, I’m in the wrong line of work.”

  “The hell with this. Come on, Billy,” one of the men called as he walked over to where his horse was tied up. The other two men also decided to leave.

  “Listen to your friend. I’m giving you a free pass to leave without any trouble. Otherwise, you’re looking at a night in jail for drunkenness and fighting, plus a fine for carrying a gun in town.”

  “I don’t need to listen to no body,” he spat.

  Jessie watched his hand quiver slightly.

  “You leave me no choice,” she said, raising her arm up with lightning speed. “Bang!” she shouted.

  The guy lurched back, falling to the ground as the horse nearby rose up on his hind legs, whinnying. Everything had happened so fast, no one noticed Jessie’s hand was shaped like a gun and her pistol was still in the holster. Bert stared in disbelief.

  “Get your ass up and get out of my town,” Jessie growled through gritted teeth.

  A wet spot appeared on the dirt in the street when the man stood up. He said nothing as he got on his horse and rode off with his friend. The other two men were already long gone.

  “He pissed himself,” Bert muttered, still in shock.

  “He was scared. I knew he wasn’t going to shoot to me.”

  “How did you know?”

  “His hand wasn’t steady enough to even try to draw. His shadow shook like a flickering candle.”

  “Come on, this rounds on me,” Jessie said, leading him back into the saloon.

  “I don’t drink, remember?”

  Jessie vaguely recalled him mentioning something of the sort. “Not at all?” she asked.

  “Well, no.”

  “You don’t drink, you don’t smoke, you’ve never been inside a brothel…” Jessie raised a brow. “Bert, do you have a penis?”

  “I beg your pardon,” he said, looking appalled. “Of course. Why would you ask such a thing?”

  “I’m just making sure you’re really a man.” She shrugged. “I drink, I smoke, I live in a brothel…but I definitely do not have a penis.”

  “Will you stop talking about penises if I have a drink?”

  “Absolutely.” She waved Elmer over. “Get us a round. Bert has found his penis. He’s officially a man!”

  Elmer laughed.

  “For crying out loud. You’re as bad as the rest of the heathens in here,” Bert uttered.

  “Oh, loosen your corset and have a drink. It tastes horrible, no offense, Elmer…”

  “None taken,” he replied, setting the two glasses in front of them.

  “But, it won’t kill you,” she finished.

  “Why are we doing this again?” Bert asked, picking up the glass.

  “Because we are thankful that drunken fool didn’t draw that pistol and try to shoot at either of us. Plus, he pissed himself, so that’s a bonus.”

  Bert nodded and knocked the glass back, swallowing the liquor in one big gulp. “Holy hell!” he yelped, rubbing his chest with his free hand as he sat the glass down. “That burns!”

  Jessie and Elmer laugh
ed.

  ***

  After a second glass, Bert was done for. Jessie threw his arm around her neck and helped him out of the saloon. “I said a drink, Bert. Not half the damn bottle,” she huffed. “Where the hell do you live anyway?”

  “Molly and I rent a house over behind the corral near Pinewood Pass,” he said, mentioning the other road leading out of town. It was near the mayor’s office, and circled around towards Pinewood Valley, which was a flat area behind Boone Mountain, but also had a cattle trail cutoff just outside of Boone Creek.

  “How come I didn’t know that?” she asked as they walked down Center Street.

  “We never talked about it, I guess,” he slurred slightly. “You’re the best town marshal in the territory.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “But, you scare the hell out of me, sometimes.”

  “That’s…good to know…I think.” She paused, looking at the row of houses. Only two of them were dimly lit, the rest were dark. “Which one is yours?”

  “In the middle,” he mumbled, pointing to one of the lit ones.

  Jessie helped him up the couple of stairs, which sounded more like a pair of elephants. The door swung open before Jessie could knock, and a petite woman wearing night clothes appeared, holding a lantern that was used as a hanging lamp. Her reddish-brown hair hung down her front right side in a thick braid.

  “Bert? Good, lord. What’s happened to you?” she gasped, holding the light up.

  “He had a little too much to drink.”

  “What? He doesn’t drink.”

  “Oh, no…” Bert murmured. “Here it comes.”

  “Quick, get him off the steps!” the woman yelled.

  Jessie rushed him back down to the street just before he began heaving all over the ground, narrowly missing Jessie’s leg.

  “He doesn’t drink because he gets sick,” the woman said, holding the lantern towards the two of them. “Marshal Henry?”

  “Yes, ma’am. You must be Molly.”

  “I am.”

  “I apologize for us meeting like this.”

  “I’ve seen you before, around town. Several times, actually. I’ve told Bert to invite you for supper, but he likes to keep home and work separate.”

  “With the thugs running ramped around here, I don’t blame him. He’s a good man.”

  “He’s also a very stubborn man. How in the world did you get him to drink?”

  Jessie bit her lower lip, feeling a little shameful. “I questioned his manhood.”

  “My word,” she giggled. “No wonder he drank.”

  “Never again,” Bert croaked, after puking two more times.

  “I’ll be right back. Let me get him some water.”

  Jessie gazed up at the stars. For a split second, her mind drifted to Ellie, but Molly returned quickly, handing her a glass of well water from the pump, which she gave to Bert.

  “I have it from here. He’ll wake up feeling pretty rough in the morning, but he’ll be fine.”

  “This has happened before?”

  “Yes. He got into the whiskey one other time with his cousin Grimsby. It wasn’t pretty,” she explained. “The doctor said his stomach just couldn’t handle it, and told him it was best to never do it again.”

  “Should I go get Doc Vernon?”

  “Oh, no. He’ll be fine.”

  “Okay.” Jessie nodded. “It was nice meeting you.”

  “You as well, Marshal Henry. Maybe supper is a better idea, next time.”

  Jessie smiled.

  ***

  Around noon the next day, Jessie sat at a table in the Kettle Kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and eating chicken pot pie, which was pretty much her breakfast since she hadn’t been up more than two hours.

  “I heard it was a rough night,” the waitress said, refilling her coffee.

  “No rougher than any other, really.”

  “Personally, I’m glad you’re cleaning up our town. Marshal Milford, may he rest in peace, wasn’t much on law and order. Don’t get me wrong, he did his best to keep the peace, but in doing so, he pretty much let them outlaws, drunkards, and whoever else caused a ruckus, do whatever they wanted around here.”

  The corner of Jessie’s mouth turned up in a grin as she pushed her empty plate aside.

  “I won’t ask you how your meal was. You come here every day, so you must like our cooking,” the waitress said with a big smile.

  Jessie laughed. “Do you think I could get a piece of that brandied peach pie to go?”

  “Of course you can. I’ll be right back.”

  Jessie placed forty cents on the table to cover her bill and pulled the watch from her vest pocket to check the time. When the waitress returned with the pie wrapped in a cloth napkin, Jessie thanked her and slipped her hat back on as she headed out.

  ***

  Bert didn’t have a desk in the Marshal’s Office, but he borrowed Jessie’s from time to time. As he sat down in the rickety chair to eat the lunch Molly had packed him, the sweet smell of peaches permeated the air. He took a peek under the napkin sitting nearby.

  “That’s not for you!” Jessie barked, snatching the napkin-covered pie off the desk. “I’ll be back,” she said.

  “Is that for Miss Ellie?” he asked.

  Jessie didn’t answer.

  “You’re sweet on her, aren’t you?”

  “What?”

  “It’s all right, if you are. I’m sure you’re not sweet on any of the men around here.”

  “It’s nothing. She made some tea yesterday, so—”

  “She invited you for tea?” He crossed his arms and smiled. “She must be sweet on you, too. Who would’ve thought—”

  “Bert, if you don’t want to spend another night retching all over yourself, you’ll stop right there and eat your damn lunch.” She turned back towards the door. “It smells good, by the way.”

  “Leftover beef steak with onions,” he called as she headed across the street with the pie in her hand.

  ***

  Ellie was standing behind the counter, writing a list on a piece of paper, when Jessie walked in. “Marshal.” She nodded with a smile. “What brings you in?”

  “Brandied peach pie,” Jessie said, placing the napkin on the counter. “I thought you could use a treat. Well, after going through the trouble of making the tea, and all,” Jessie stammered.

  The sweet aroma from the dessert made Ellie’s stomach rumble as she uncovered it. “This smells absolutely divine.”

  “I’m sure it tastes just as good.”

  “You haven’t tried it?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Ellie disappeared up the stairs, returning a moment later with two forks. “You simply must share it with me,” she said. “Besides, I made that pot of tea for all of my customers to try, hoping they’d buy a tin of leaves.”

  Jessie nodded, unsure of what to say as she removed her hat.

  Ellie handed her a fork. “Are you really from Texas?” she asked.

  Jessie nodded.

  “Were you a law officer down there, too?” Ellie questioned between bites of pie.

  “Oh…no.” Jessie shook her head. “I ran cattle across the Texas and Mexico border.”

  Ellie raised a brow.

  “What? You can’t picture me as a cow poke?” Jessie’s mouth turned up into a slight grin.

  “Something like that.” Ellie smiled. “What brought you to Boone Creek?”

  “The chance at a different life. What about you? Why did you leave…Dodge City, was it?”

  “Near there,” Ellie said. “I came here with my husband. He had this big idea for a trade store out west. We passed through here and decided to settle.”

  Jessie nodded, looking at Ellie as she went in for another bite of pie. Their forks touched in the center of the last piece. They smiled at each other and Jessie pulled her fork away, allowing Ellie to ha
ve the last morsel. However, she sliced it in half, allowing them to share it.

  “That was delicious,” Ellie said, placing her fork on the empty napkin. “Thank you.”

  “You’re quite welcome, even if you didn’t make the tea for me,” Jessie teased.

  “Well, you were the first person I served it to. Does that matter?”

  Jessie grinned. “Maybe.”

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were courting me, Marshal Henry.”

  “Me…courting you? Oh, no. I believe it’s the other way around, Ms. Ellie.”

  “How so?” Ellie asked, crossing her arms. “You’re the one who has been in here three times this week, and brought me pie.”

  “You made me tea…before everyone else, and I see you looking over at my office nearly every day.”

  Ellie huffed. “What makes you think I’d be sweet on another woman?”

  Jessie stepped closer, leaving less than a foot of space between them. “Because I can see it in your eyes,” she whispered, before turning around and walking away.

  THIRTEEN

  Nicolas Munroe, a potential buyer for Pearl Hall, arrived in town a few days later in a fancy stage. He was the epitome of wealth, with a thin, handle-bar mustache, and high-fashioned suits with colorful vests and ties, and a top hat. He would’ve somewhat fit in with the business people of Red Rock, and especially in Denver, the largest city in the territory, but in Boone Creek, he stood out like a horse in a dress.

  He carried on about his travels and boasted about the money he’d made, owning various businesses, to anyone who would listen. He’d never owned a theatre, but to him, it was simply another way to line his pocket. Many of the other business owners were partial to him already, believing he would boost the economy in the town, but Jessie likened him to a snake oil salesman.

  ***

  Jessie and Bert walked into the Rustler’s Den, per their usual evening patrol around town. Elmer waved and Jessie tipped her hat.