Boone Creek

by Graysen Morgen

  “Well, what do we have here?” Nicolas Munroe said, looking at the two of them. He was in the middle of a game of dice, with nearly everyone in the saloon watching. “You must be the town marshal I keep hearing about,” he added. “Care to join in?”

  “Maybe later,” Jessie replied, passing by him to go to their usual table in the back corner.

  Bert had sworn off whiskey for the rest of his life, and they were working, so Elmer sent over two hot cups of coffee.

  “I knew it wouldn’t be long before you walked in,” Lita said as she sauntered over, hiking her hip onto the edge of the table.

  Bert pulled his eyes away from the ample bosom spilling over the top of her corset.

  “Is he any good?” Jessie asked, nodding towards Mr. Munroe, who seemed to be winning the game.

  “No one is as good as you,” she uttered, running her hand down Jessie’s arm.

  Jessie ignored the advance and sipped her coffee.

  “Why don’t you give it a shot? He’s beaten nearly everyone in here,” Lita stated.

  “How many games has he won?” she asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe ten.”

  “In a row?” Bert asked.

  “The good deputy speaks,” she teased, winking at him.

  Bert cringed nervously.

  “Yes, ten in a row. He’s been here for about an hour.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Jessie said, getting up from the table.

  Bert watched her walk away, anything to keep from looking at the enticing saloon girl. Lita opened her mouth to say something and he quickly blurted, “I’m a married man.”

  Lita laughed. “So are most of the men in here.”

  ***

  Jessie took a seat at the bar and lit a cigar. Elmer noticed her and made his way towards that end.

  “Whiskey?” he asked.

  “No, I need to keep my head on straight tonight. How long has he been at it?” she asked, nodding towards the dice table.

  “You think he’s running a game?”

  “Lita told me he’s won ten straight, been here an hour or so.”

  “Yeah.” Elmer nodded.

  “You ever see anyone win like that?”

  He didn’t have to think about it, he simply shook his head. “Damn it. I liked him, too.”

  “I can’t prove he’s running a game, but I can smell a rat from a mile away, and he stinks.”

  Elmer pulled several quarters out of the register. “Here, he wants you to play. He keeps watching you.”

  “I’m not playing with house money.”

  “Why?” Elmer questioned. “Are you going to lose?”

  Jessie never backed down when she was challenged. She grabbed the coins, putting them in the vest pocket opposite her own money, and made her way to the table.

  Nicolas had taken off his hat and coat, leaving him in the gray pants of his suit, along with a white shirt, and bright blue matching vest and puff tie. His brown hair was waxed and perfectly combed, as was his mustache.

  “Excuse me, folks. Let the good marshal get in here,” he said, making room for Jessie at the table.

  All of the seats were taken, but she preferred to stand anyhow. The rules were simple, the castor rolled the dice, and he called the main before each roll, which was a total number when the dice was rolled. Anything can be called except seven or eleven, which was called a hitch. Betting was easy. You either bet that he would roll a hitch, or bet on specific numbers other than the main, or bet that the number would be odd or even. If the castor rolled the main, he won the entire pot. If he rolled a hitch, seven or eleven, he won half the pot. If he rolled any other number, the pot was won by whoever had that number. Those who played odd or even only won when the castor lost, and they were paid one to one odds. The castor remained the same person until he lost three in a row.

  Nicolas called a nine, and Jessie put a quarter on the hitch circle. The dice bounced down the board and off the side wall, landing on five and four, giving him the full pot. Again, Nicolas called the main. This time it was six. He rolled a seven, giving him half of the pot. Jessie had played nine. She reached in for the dice, to be helpful and hand them to Nicolas, but he’d already retrieved them with the L-shaped stick that was used for that purpose. He smiled and called another main to keep the game going.

  “You guys are too good for me,” Jessie joked, walking away after losing five straight rolls. She headed back over to Elmer, slipping him the rest of the coins he’d loaned her.

  “Well?” he said.

  “He’s not using house dice. He switched them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re weighted, so he knows the numbers they will land on.”

  “How did he switch them?”

  “Sleight of hand. It’s rather easy,” she said, not going into too much detail. It was a trick she’d used several times over the years to gain a little money when she gambled. Nicolas was playing like a fool, however. He’d won too much, too fast, giving him away.

  “That cheating son of a bitch. I want him out of here.”

  Jessie held her hand up in a calming manner. “Let him play his game tonight and think he has everyone beaten. I’ll bust him next time.”

  “It’s your call, Marshal.”

  Jessie handed him a half eagle. “That’s how much I lost.”

  “He’s making a killing over there. Do you think he’ll try it again?”

  “If he’s smart, no. But, I don’t give him much credit,” Jessie replied, looking back at the table.

  “Someone’s liable to catch on and shoot him,” Elmer said.

  “No one is carrying, at least not that I can see. That’s one problem we’ve just about gotten control of. It’s the ones who conceal it that we have to worry about.” She turned back to Elmer. “My coffee’s getting cold,” she said, tipping her hat to him before walking back to Bert.

  Lita had vacated her spot when Jessie went to the dice table, following to stand alongside her. They’d parted when Jessie went back up to the bar.

  “What’s going on?” Bert asked.

  “Our new visitor is running a game at the dice table.”

  “What are we going to do about it?”

  “Nothing…at least for now. He’ll do it again. He’s as slick as a snake oil salesman.” She took a sip of her cold coffee. “Come on, let’s call it a night.”

  “What if someone else catches onto what he’s doing?” Bert asked as they left.

  She shrugged. “Then, it serves him right for trying to hustle everyone.”

  ***

  “Will you save me some honey?” Jessie yelled to Ellie, who was standing on the sidewalk in front of her store, updating the chalkboard sign out front with all of her weekly and daily specials. “The last time you put it on sale, you sold out within two days.”

  “Well, come buy some, then,” Ellie called back, placing a hand on her slender hip.

  “Bert, hold down the fort. I’ll be right back,” Jessie said, popping her head inside the opened doorway.

  “You should try flowers this time. That worked on my Molly.”

  “Bert…” Jessie stared at him. “Never mind,” she muttered, walking away.

  “I can’t get it now because I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. We leave for Red Rock in a couple of days for Shamus’s trial.”

  “Oh,” Ellie mumbled. “This stuff’s no good anyway. That’s why I have it on sale. The last batch was better. In fact, I mixed it with homemade jam Mrs. Porter made. It’s very good on a biscuit.”

  “Sounds like I might have to try that some time.”

  “I always bake too many biscuits for just me. I’ll go get you one.”

  Jessie smiled, but Ellie had already headed inside. She nodded hello to a few town folk who passed by while she waited.

  “Here, you are,” Ellie said, handing her the biscuit, covered in the honey and jam mixture
. It was wrapped in the cloth napkin from the restaurant.

  “I’d forgotten about this. Ms. Nelly over at the Kettle Kitchen is probably wondering why I haven’t brought it back.”

  “Did she ask you for it?”

  “No.”

  “That means she’s not missing it.”

  “You didn’t have to do this,” Jessie said, taking a bite of the biscuit. “Oh, my. This is good.”

  “Thank you, and I only did it to repay you for bringing me the pie.”

  Jessie met her eyes and simply stared.

  “You look deep in thought,” Ellie murmured.

  “I was,” Jessie said shyly, pulling her eyes away and finishing her biscuit.

  “What were you thinking about?”

  Jessie shook her head. “You have a nice afternoon, Miss Ellie.” She turned to go.

  “Wait…you’re not going to tell me?” She reached out for Jessie’s arm, but wound up grabbing her hand.

  Jessie looked down at their paired hands. “Do you really want to know?”

  Ellie quickly let go of her hand and went back inside of the store.

  Jessie sighed as she walked across the street to the Marshal’s Office. She was barely in the door when Ellie hurried in behind her.

  “Marshal, you dropped the napkin. Ms. Nelly might be needing that back.”

  “Ohhhweee, would you look at that!” Shamus exclaimed. “You sure are a pretty thing!”

  Ellie cringed.

  “He’s all bark and no bite, trust me,” Jessie said, walking her out. “Thank you for bringing over the napkin.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said, taking a long look at Jessie’s bright green eyes. “You look lost in thought again. What is it?”

  “Maybe I’ll tell you when I get back,” Jessie mumbled, thinking about the same thing that had been on her mind minutes earlier.

  “Your eyes already told me,” Ellie said softly.

  “Hey, that’s my line.”

  “Well, I borrowed it.”

  “Fine. What did they say?” Jessie asked, resting her hands on her gun belt.

  “Oh…maybe I’ll tell you when you get back,” Ellie teased.

  Jessie simply shook her head and grinned as Ellie headed back across the street.

  “I might have to come back to town for that little lady,” Shamus said when Jessie stepped back inside.

  She walked over to his cell and grabbed the front of his shirt collar in a bunch, pulling his face against the iron bars. “You come near her, and I’ll skin you alive,” she growled through gritted teeth. “Besides, the only way you’re coming back here is as a ghost. I plan to witness the executioner snap your neck like a twig.”

  Bert silently watched the exchange. Jessie Henry was fierce and confident, definitely unlike any lawman he’d ever seen. He admired her in a lot of ways.

  “I told you to try flowers,” he said as she stepped back over to her desk.

  “If you don’t stop, I’m going to put you in there with him,” she muttered.

  FOURTEEN

  Jessie saw Lita coming out of the General Trade as she passed her on the street. Lita smiled and waved, and Jessie tipped her hat as she kept going in the direction of the mayor’s office.

  “Marshal Henry!” Pastor Noah yelled, seeing her pass by as he stood at the pulpit, working on his sermon for Sunday.

  Hearing her name, Jessie stopped. “What can I do for you?” she asked as he walked outside.

  “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” he said, looking up at the blue, cloudless sky.

  “Sure is.”

  “Say, what do you know about scripture?”

  “About as much as you know about skinning a buffalo.”

  Pastor Noah laughed.

  “Have you ever heard of Hebrews 11:1 ‘Faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.’”

  “How does that pertain to me, exactly?”

  “You and Bert have a big job ahead of you. Trust that everything will go all right and guarantee that it won’t.”

  Jessie pursed her lips and nodded. “When you put it like that, it makes sense.”

  The pastor smiled.

  “Let me ask you something. Why bother watching over someone like me who isn’t a churchgoer?”

  “That’s simple. Romans 14:1 ‘Accept the one whose faith is weak, without quarrelling over disputable matters,’” he said. “You may not come to church, but it doesn’t mean I condemn you for it. I’m not God. I merely deliver his word, and everyone is permitted to receive the word of God. You don’t have to sit in a church for that. Besides…I like you.”

  “It’s good to know you’re on my side. Maybe you could put in a good word for me from time to time,” she said, pointing to the sky.

  “Every Sunday,” he replied. “If I don’t see you before you leave, safe travels to you and Bert. I’ll be praying for you.”

  ***

  “Make sure you have enough provisions,” Mayor Montgomery said. “It’s a two-day ride to Red Rock. I have you and Bert booked at the Silver Penny Hotel for the length of the trial. When you get into town, go directly to the jailhouse and get Shamus checked in. It’s next door to the justice’s office. He should be able to help you if you have any questions.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Jessie replied, sitting across from him in his office. “I should probably pick up a few things before we head out, though. I want to leave at first light.”

  “Get whatever you need and put it on my bill at the General Trade.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be able to keep an eye on the streets while we’re gone? It might be easier to deputize someone until we get back.”

  “I’ll be all right. I’m more worried about the two of you.”

  “I’m not scared of that loudmouth or his gang of nitwits,” Jessie stated.

  “I think that’s what worries me.” The mayor grinned.

  ***

  Jessie headed to the General Trade after leaving the mayor’s office. She’d decided to go ahead and pick up the few items they needed for the trip.

  “Marshal,” Ellie uttered when Jessie walked in.

  “We meet again,” Nicolas Munroe said.

  “Well, Mr. Munroe, it’s not that big of a town,” she replied with a hint of sarcasm. She was slightly surprised to see him, especially looking so casual as he leaned against the counter.

  “That’s true, but the new, improved theatre will put this town on the map when I buy it.”

  “So, you are going to buy it then?”

  “I haven’t decided, but Ms. Ellie has all but talked me into it. I think she’d make a great business neighbor. What do you think, Marshal?”

  “If you have the money, then why talk about it? Just do it,” she said, grabbing some candles, matches, and dry food goods.

  “Oh, now that’s easier said than done, I’m afraid. These business transactions take time. I need to be sure I’m making the right investment before I get things started.” He looked at Ellie and grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Although, I do believe this could be my best acquirement yet.”

  Ellie smiled.

  Jessie put her items on the counter next to Nicolas.

  “I don’t believe I caught your name the other night. Those games did go rather quickly,” he smirked.

  Jessie didn’t look the least bit amused by him. “Jessie Henry, Town Marshal,” she said, holding her hand out.

  His brow furrowed as he shook hands with her. “Henry…I met a guy named Jed Henry when I was in North Carolina. He fought in the war. Is he any relation to you?”

  Jessie shook her head. “No. My Pa’s name was Johnny. He followed the gold rush to California when I was little and died before he made it back home.”

  “My apologies.”

  “Don’t fret. I never knew him anyway,” she uttered.

  “Well, excuse me anyhow. Miss Ellie, it was mighty
fine talking with you,” he beamed. “Marshal Henry,” he added, tipping his gray top hat in her direction, before leaving the store.

  Jessie stood impatiently, waiting for Ellie to ring up her purchase. “You two looked pretty chummy.”

  “What do you mean by that? He’s nice, and if we want him to buy the theatre and help our economy, then yes, I’ll be friendly,” she said, adding Jessie’s items in the register. “You don’t care for him, do you?”

  “Not in the least bit. How could you tell?”

  “You were impolite.”

  “He deserved it.”

  “Why on earth would you say that?”

  “Never mind.”

  “You sure say that a lot,” Ellie retorted.

  Jessie shrugged. “The mayor said to put all of this on his bill.”

  “I don’t suppose you brought a sack with you.”

  “No. I didn’t. May I borrow one?”

  “Fine,” Ellie answered. “By the way, your harlot was in here this morning to get more of the wonderful tea leaves you gave her.”

  “My what? Wait a second. First of all, I don’t have a harlot.”

  “Everyone has seen you parading around town with her.”

  “If you’re referring to Lita, I know her because we met when I went to Miss Mable’s with the mayor to get my room. She’s a saloon girl, so I see her at the Rustler’s Den when I am working at night. Neither of those is any indication that we are anything but acquaintances.”

  “Being friendly with her isn’t exactly…”

  “What? Appropriate?” Jessie shook her head. “And by the way, I gave those tea leaves to Miss Mable to repay her for the hospitality I’ve been given at her place. She must have made tea for the girls if Lita knew about the leaves.”

  “Hospitality?” Ellie laughed with a sneer. “You’re boarding in a brothel. How hospitable can it be?”

  “What is this really about?” Jessie asked.

  “You don’t care for Mr. Munroe, and I don’t care for the harlot,” Ellie spat, folding her arms.

  “I don’t care for Nicolas Munroe because I know his kind. He’s as slick as a snake oil salesman, and as broke as a penniless drunk.”