Chapter II
By Sherry Whitten
Jimmy hefted a fifty pound sack of flour over his shoulder, hauling it outside to dump onto the back of the wagon. He returned for another load, scowling at the man across the room. It was apparent Billy cared even less for work off the station. "Hey, Billy...it your birthday or something?"
The young man grinned in feigned innocence, the same grin that had him getting away with murder. Picking up the latest ten cent novel he studied the paper cover. His eyes narrowed as he analyzed the artist's detail of the gunfighter on the front cover. "Not that I know of...why?"
"We could use a couple more hands...so unless you've got two broken arms," amending, "or unless you want a pair in the next five seconds, get your backside on over here and help load these boxes."
Cockily he replaced the book, his grin wide. He still leaned against the wall, his eyes assessing his friend. "Loosen up, Jimmy. You act like Emma put too much starch in your johns."
Jimmy, took a threatening step forward. "I'll loosen up your teeth if you don't get over here and help!"
With a resigned shrug, Billy sauntered over. At his movement Jimmy turned away, sending Lou out with another box. Two more boxes would see the loading done. He wanted to get back as soon as possible. He didn't like leaving Emma and Teaspoon alone at the station with the rise in Ute raids this past month. Teaspoon wouldn't be able to stand them off alone if a war party of Paiute attacked.
"Hey, Jimmy?"
Even with his back to him, Jimmy knew he carried a saucy grin. His exasperation was echoed in the clipped, "What?!"
"You remember Becky Wilson?"
Jimmy turned back, and before his eyes Billy held up a woman's frilly petticoat. He sighed with a shake of his head, his frustration at his friend draining away as he cracked a grin of his own. He'd have to admit that more than once he'd thought about Miss Becky Wilson.
At the Saturday dance two weeks ago the girl had dipped into the spiked punch and got tipsy. She'd shown more than a little petticoat as she'd danced around in splendor - before her shocked mother had hauled her away in red- faced distress.
"It ain't healthy to remember things like that, Billy."
The young man shrugged, dropping the garment. "I reckon not...but it sure makes the blood pump hot, don't it?" He moved across, slapping his friend on the shoulder with a shared grin, then after careful inspection, he stooped down and picked up the lightest box.
Jimmy's grin quickly turned sour. "I swear, you work harder at not working than Teaspoon does at finding jobs for us to do."
"It's a talent, Jimmy," he returned airily.
"If laziness is a talent, you must have stood in line for a double dose."
Billy shot him an irritating smirk, not bothering to grace the cutting remark with a reply. He left the store, strolling out with all the urgency of a lazy Sunday afternoon ramble as Jimmy scowled after him, dragging up the heavy box. With a muttered curse, he juggled it up into his arms and followed Cody outside.
Billy stood on the boardwalk, tipping his hat to a pair of young girls who giggled as they passed by. Squinting against the glare of the sun, he caught sight of a lone female rider moving slowly by. Billy stiffened automatically, his narrowed eyes sharp. He wagered the odds of two people in the world with hair the color of burnished copper and liquid fire.
There wasn't another.
Billy absently handed the box to Kid, who was crouched atop the wagon stacking the supplies. He crossed the street in a dazed fashion.
He moved up beside her, and the years melted away like fine mist on a blistering desert morning. Her hair was longer, reaching almost to her waist. The sunlight brought out the curling tresses in an almost blinding way.
It was a fact of life that Caitlin was breathtaking. They'd been children growing up together at a time when he'd looked on girls as an inconvenient, bothersome nuisance. Even then, he'd had to admit that Caitlin was beautiful - like no other. And now, he could see the beauty remained beneath the dirt-streaked face and the weary nod of her head.
"Caitlin?" The uncertain disbelief echoed in his raspy voice.
At the name she turned her head, her eyes focusing on the face swimming before her eyes. She caught her breath on a sharp gasp of incredulity. Sure as certain it was William Cody!
Caitlin shook her head to clear it, convinced he was a spirit and had come to take her to the hereafter. She remembered time and again she had cursed the man to hell. Now, low and behold, he stood here before her.
Aye, if hell was to be her destination she couldn't think of anyone better to take her there, for, indeed, he'd made her life sheer hell on earth.
An explosion flashed before her eyes.
Strong arms folded about her as she slipped from the saddle, her eyes closing in stunned unconsciousness.
Billy staggered under the weight before gaining his balance. The name on her lips was enough to convince him who he held. Caitlin O'Riley was the only person alive who could call him 'Willie' and still live to take another breath.
Jimmy was there almost instantly, "I see you still have a way with the ladies, 'Willie'...at one glance they drop like flies!"
"Always the comedian," he snapped, straining under the dead weight of his burden. "And call me that name one more time, Jimmy, and I sware I'll kill you - any of you!" He glared at his friends gathering around with warning in case one of them had a sudden death wish. "Somebody go for Doc Barton!"
"Buck's already gone.
"Put her in the wagon." Kid quickly made room, tossing bags of flour aside with a burst of adrenaline.
Billy laid her down and leaped beside her, his heart pounding in his chest. He swept aside long curls that covered her face, his hands clammy and trembling. "Caitlin?"
She lay still, her body limp. Yanking a glove from his hand, he pressed unsteady fingers against her skin to search for the pulse at her throat. In relief, he found her heart beating a steady rhythm.
"Geez, Cait!" Ripping off his bandana, he uncorked the canteen, sloshing water recklessly over the material. "Come on, honey...wake up."
Raking the cool rag across her face, she stirred. Motivated by this sign, Billy followed up with a stinging slap smartly across the cheek, "Caitlin... can you hear me?"
Eyes opened, the face before her focusing. So, he wasn't a dream - or a spirit! Irish temper exploded, consuming her nethermost regions. How dare he appear again out of the blue when he'd cold-bloodedly left her years before!
"Sure and I'm hearin' ye fine, but ye be hittin' me again, William Cody, and ye'll be losin' more than a hand - a fact I'm swearin' on me mum's grave!"
"You passed out!" he snapped in defense, the backlash of her anger like the scourging of a whip across tender flesh.
"Fairy drivel!!" She slapped annoyingly at the hand checking for a telltale fever. "'Tis not a day I've been sick in me life, as ye know good and well!"
"What seems to be the problem here?" The doctor bounded up, huffing in exhaustion. He hadn't moved so fast since Gracie's twins arrived two weeks early.
"She passed out cold, Doc."
"I'll not be needin' you to speak for me!" she glared, taking note that Willie still believed himself in charge - and after three years' separation. Well, he'd soon find she wasn't some spineless weakling, giving in to his whims anymore. "I dare say I'll be fine once I get a short rest as I've been ridin' days all but nonstop!"
The doctor took her wrist, testing her pulse in a professional way. He frowned at the paleness of her face. "And in all this riding, when was the last time you had anything to eat?"
A splash of color crept up her face. She couldn't remember. She'd even lost track of what day it was. "Lunch."
"Uh huh," he murmured in suspicion. His eyes narrowed, noting the pulse quickening beneath his probing fingers. "Which lunch?"
She shrugged with a frown of recall. "What'd be the day?"
The doctor tutted, his lips pursed in displeasure. "I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, miss." Shaking his head in disapproval he released her wrist. He looked to a still frowning Billy, blotting away the perspiration running in a stream from his forehead. "I'm sure she'll be fine once she gets some rest and a meal inside her...though it might not hurt to bring her in for a check-up."
"I'll not be needin' a check-up, though thank ye kindly." Food would indeed be heaven, but at the moment all she needed was a drink to quench the fiery thirst in her. Her throat was raw from swallowing the flying dust from the trail. The refreshing water Billy had offered was appreciated, but she desperately needed something with more bite to it.
An arched brow rose hopefully. "Though a stiff Irish whisky wouldn't be amiss," she sighed wistfully, her eyes sliding to the black bag sitting beside them. "But I don't expect ye'd be carrin' a tote on you?"
He cleared his throat gruffly, eyes twinkling. "Afraid not, ma'am."
"No matter," she returned with a lift of a slender shoulder. "Ye've been kindness itself, and I'm appreciatin' your concern, but straightway I've got to be seein' someone about some business. Then, on me honor," she crossed her heart with ceremony and held up a hand in oath, "I'll get a meal down me."
He nodded. "Just be sure that you do." Gathering his bag, he tipped his hat in farewell. "Take care, now."
"Aye, I intend to."
As the doctor moved away, Billy stood stone-faced before her, crossing his arms across his chest, his jaw working with impatience.
As Caitlin turned to him, her smile for benefit of the doctor faded, her eyes hard and frosty. "So, if ye'll be gettin' out of me way, William Cody, as I said, I've business to be tendin' to."
Billy wasn't impressed with the smooth handling of the doctor. He'd seen it too many times in the past. Caitlin had a way of working around people - especially men people - to get her own way. One look into those violet, cobalt eyes and a man was already drowned before he even knew he was sinking. The key was to avoid them like the plague.
Billy eyed her dead-on, assuring himself he was immune. "You'll fall flat on your face!"
"Aye, maybe I will, but 'tis me own face I'll be fallin' on!" She glowered at Billy, daring him with blazing eyes and the arrogant toss of a fire-streaked head to try and stop her. It was humiliating to be so helpless - and for her helplessness to be witnessed by so many curious eyes.
She stood gingerly, hanging onto the wagon edge until her legs steadied. Pleased with this success, she faced the adversary with confidence. "Now, if you'll be directin' me to the marshal, Sam Cain, I'll not be delayin' ye further."
"Sam's out of town. Won't be back for at least a week," Jimmy announced, mesmerized by the hue of the girl's hair. The unruly curls seemed to have a life all their own, and the shade was unlike any Jimmy had ever seen before. It made him think of liquid flames of sunshine.
At the distressing news, it took sheer willpower not to collapse in a weeping mass of disappointment. She'd hoped her long journey was over, but apparently she'd have to rest awhile and continue on in her search.
She ignored a sour-faced Billy, addressing this friendlier face instead. "And where might he be? I'll have to be keepin' on the move till I find him."
"Went to Sand Springs to take a prisoner to trial." The curiosity couldn't be banked, forcefully holding back a hand that yearned to reach out to the fiery curls. He wondered if he spit on his fingers if they would sizzle and burn at contact. Jimmy grinned. He couldn't help it. "You talk different. Where're you from?"
"Jimmy!" Lou rebuked from nearby at the rudeness, but the woman ignored it as she laughed delightedly. The brilliance of the timbre seared a hole straight through Jimmy's gut. She turned the full impact of her cobalt eyes on him and he felt the jolt travel straight through his system.
Caitlin witnessed the wide-eyed curiosity of this handsome man, and instantly her despair lightened, breaking into a dazzling smile. "Do I now? I reckon that'd be because I'm Irish...born and bred."
Jimmy grinned now like a simpleton. He wasn't much on hearing a female drone on and on, but he felt he could listen to this Irish music from dawn to dusk. "No kidding?!"
She raised a dainty hand in oath, "On me honor."
Beside her Billy tapped his foot in annoyance and impatience. Caitlin was an expert at ignoring those she thought beneath her notice. Though she wasn't quick to judge and gave even the most undesirable the benefit of the doubt, when one fell from grace in her eyes it was a long haul back on the road to acceptance. Aware she lumped Billy into this slot, he slapped a hand around her wrist, demanding attention. "I want some answers, Caitlin, and I want them now."
She looked pointedly to the hand holding her captive, then upward to the glowering man above her. Slowly she turned to him. The sparks were instant and explosive, and someone lesser would have shriveled at her feet. But not Willie...no, never Willie!
This fact made her all the more furious. "Sure and I've plenty of words on me tongue I could say to the likes of you, but 'tis a fact I said all on my mind years back...as you'll be rememberin'! I swallowed my wretched pride - tossed it to the four winds and begged you to stay. Aye, and a fat lot of good it did me as ye left anyway. Aye, ye made your own decision," her back stiffened in defiance, her eyes cracking with fiery indignation, "now I'll be makin' mine."
Even with the livid fury in her eyes, Billy still recognized the terror. "What kind of trouble have you got yourself into this time, Cait?"
She jerked her arm away, not a whit sure she liked his implication. "And what are ye meanin' by 'this time'?! 'Tis almost as if ye expected it!" Out of sorts with the thought, she crossed both arms in a huff.
"Sweetheart, you were always in trouble." In fact, the lady was just trouble, period! "Somehow I can't see any of that changing."
"Well!," Caitlin huffed, scandalized. "'Tis a fine attitude ye're takin' to be sure...and it's not your sweetheart I am!" she tagged on for good measure.
"What have you done, Caitlin?" He wasn't moved an inch by her wounded child act. It was just another part of the game.
His glowering scowl gave her an acute measure of satisfaction. Tossing her head, she scoffed in a taunting way, "Since the thought is so distasteful, put me presence from your mind. Sure and I'll be findin' meself a room to be waitin' for the marshal - from someone who'd be a gentleman perhaps!"
"Or perhaps not!" Billy returned tersely. "You're coming with me, Caitlin, and no nonsense!!" Heaven only knew what chaos the woman would wreak on the town if left to her own devices!
"Aye, where ye can be keepin' yere eagle eye on me, I suppose!" Caitlin scoffed bitterly, wounded with her own outrage that he should all but declare before God and sundry she was in dire need of a keeper. "Well, no thank ye, William Cody! I'd sooner be bunkin' with the devil himself!"
Billy could feel his blood boil in frustration. It was obvious her stubborn, hard-headedness was still her most apparent attribute. He glared at a still grinning Jimmy who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying their confrontation. "That can probably be arranged."
"'Tis fine by me. Bring him on!"
Both stood, glaring toe-to-toe. Billy knew she'd die a thousand deaths before she'd give in to him about anything. Anything more he said to reason with her would only have her digging her heels in deeper against him in defiance.
Helpless at the moment to change her set resolve, Billy tossed his hands up in defeat. "All right, Caitlin! Do it your own way...as usual. Just don't come crawling to me when you find yourself in over your head."
He strode angrily to his horse, ripping the reins loose from the hitching post in fiery temper.
"Perish the thought, William Cody!" she shrieked after his striding form, hands on hips in wounded outrage. "I'll be makin' me bed in hell before I'll be on my hands and knees before you!"
After mounting, he sat looking down on her, watching the sharp arrows fire from her eyes. Tossing back an insulting and derisive, "Hell has my condolences!" Billy reined Jezebel around, tearing out of town. He left the staggered onlookers standing in a swirling cloud of dust.
To be continued...Chapter III
Copyright 1998-This work is not to be reproduced without the permission of the author
The Way Station
Campfire Tales
