Pulling her small gun from the side of her boot and gathering up her skirts, Christine joined the stream of men who were running down to the saloon to see what was going on.
As she turned the corner of the saloon and pushed her way through the crowd of men she found there, she heard the marshal’s stern voice commanding attention.
“Now boys, what do you think you’re doin’? Put those guns down... don’t make me ask you again.”
Christine fought her way through the crowd frantically but never seemed to reach the front.
“Let that man go, Harry... I mean it. Let him go now; I’ll sort this out myself.”
Christine made it to the front just in time to see Harry Smith release Jimmy and put down his gun. She sighed with relief at seeing Jimmy uninjured.
“Marshal, this here boy shot Peterson in cold blood,” accused one of the men who stood with Harry.
There was a murmur of agreement from the other men.
“Is that true, son?” the marshal asked of Jimmy, looking at him curiously and wondering when this stranger rode into town.
“He drew on me first,” Jimmy replied, shaking himself free of Harry’s restraining grip and walking over to the marshal.
“Anyone else see what happened?” the marshal inquired, looking around at the assembled crowd.
“We all did,” shouted Harry, indicating to his five friends.
The marshal groaned. “Apart from you.” It was too early in the day to be dealing with Smith and his cronies already.
There was a brief silence before a shaky voice could be heard coming from the doorway of the saloon.
“I saw it, Marshal.”
Harry turned and threw his wife a furious glare. “You get back inside, woman. You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he shouted.
The marshal held up a silencing hand to Harry and addressed the woman in the doorway.
“Well, Irene? What happened?” he asked softly.
Under the attention of the crowd Irene’s voice faltered and she fixed her eyes on the ground. “I’m afraid my husband and his friend’s are mistaken,” she whispered. “Mr Peterson did draw on this young man. He killed him in self defence.” Her voice had faded away to almost nothing as she talked, but her husband’s hadn’t.
“You damned fool woman,” he shouted furiously. “Stupid woman, you don’t know what you’re sayin’!”
“That’s enough, Smith!” the marshal barked, before lowering his voice and addressing Jimmy, the men and the crowd. “Seems plain enough to me. Show’s over. Someone call the undertaker. Young man...” turning to Jimmy, “...I’d like a word.”
Jimmy threw the Irene Smith a grateful smile before following the marshal as he walked towards the street. Christine met him and took his arm, smiling at him with a shake of the head.
“Alright? You had me worried.”
“Me too,” Jimmy answered grimly.
The marshal halted in the street and turned to meet them.
“Miss Nelson,” he said, dipping his hat.
“Marshal White,” she responded with a smile. “This here’s a friend of mine.”
Jimmy extended his hand. “James Butler Hickok.”
Marshal White arched his eyebrows in surprise as he took Jimmy’s hand. Jimmy was used to this reaction when he introduced himself and he tried to reassure the marshal.
“I don’t want no trouble, sir. It was just a disagreement that got out of hand. Nice timing by the way,” Jimmy added with a grin.
Marshal White nodded and gave a slight smile. “Alright then, son. Just keep away from Smith and his friends for a while. Keep him out of trouble, Christine.”
“Will do!” called Christine as the Marshal strode way along the street.
She turned to face Jimmy. “Still want to have that picnic?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Jimmy murmured, taking her hand in his.
*******
Eight hours later, after the sun had set and the night had taken on a chill which promised to the return of the cold weather, Christine and Jimmy sat on the rug in front of a small fire. The light from the flames danced off the walls of Christine’s kitchen and the low crackle of the fire was the only sound which could be heard.
They’d spent the afternoon together by the creek, talking and laughing and discussing the incident earlier in the day. Jimmy had told Christine of how angry he’d been when he’d seen the state of Irene Smith. Somehow if felt good to have someone to talk to about things like that with.
Christine rested her head back on Jimmy’s chest, her eyes closed, and broke the silence.
“So, did our picnic live up to your dream?” she laughed lightly.
“And then some,” Jimmy smiled, wrapping his arms more tightly around her.
“How much longer can you stay?” she asked.
“I really ought to leave on Friday, so two days, I ‘spose.”
Christine sighed. “Can’t you stretch it any longer?”
“Teaspoon would have my hide!” Jimmy muttered.
They were both silent for a moment before Christine spoke again.
“Well, we’ll just have to make the most of it. As long as we keep you away from the saloon we should be alright.”
“The saloon?” Jimmy asked.
“Harry Smith owns the saloon. Didn’t you know?” Christine answered, craning her neck to look at Jimmy’s face.
“No, but it makes sense.” Jimmy gave an ironic laugh. “You’d think he’d drink himself out of any profit.”
Christine nodded. “Yes, but remember, he might be a drunk but he’s not stupid.” She was about to continue when she sat up quickly and placed a hand to her throat.
“Chris?” Jimmy asked in a concerned voice.
“My necklace,” Christine answered. “The one my father gave me. The clasp broke this afternoon by the creek. I hung it on a little branch by the blanket so I wouldn’t lose it. Oh, how stupid! I can’t believe I forgot it!” She shook her head angrily at her own forgetfulness.
“It’s alright,” Jimmy said gently, letting go of her as he spoke and moving to get up. “I’ll go get it.”
“No, don’t do that. It can wait ‘til morning; you shouldn’t go out now.”
“Chris,” Jimmy laughed, getting to his feet. “I’m an Express rider. I ride out on darker and colder nights than this!”
Christine tried to protest but before she knew it Jimmy was out the door and on his way to the barn to get his horse. She stood on the porch as she watched Jimmy ride off back to the creek. “Oh Lord,” she whispered to herself into the darkness of the night. “You’re fallin’ for him, Christine Nelson. That isn’t what he wants, you’ve got to remember that.” With a sigh she turned and headed back into the house to await Jimmy’s return.
*******
Jimmy cursed as he felt the bump on his head carefully. He’d received it when he took a tumble while wandering around by the creek. Poking round in the dark looking for that necklace hadn’t been easy; he knew exactly where it was in the daylight, but in the dark it was a whole other matter. He had found the necklace, however, and it was now carefully stowed away in the pocket inside his coat as he rode back to Christine’s.
What was he thinking of, anyway? If it had been anyone else he would have told them to go get it in the morning, but because it was Christine he’d jumped straight on his horse like her knight in shining armour. There was no doubt about it: he felt far more for Christine than he was owning up to. Whenever he saw her he got that tight feeling in his chest, and when she’d woken him up this morning, the thought of waking up next to her every morning had passed through his mind... and he’d liked it. Jimmy shook his head despondently and gave a long sigh. That wasn’t what Christine was looking for. Besides, why would a beautiful young woman like Chris want to tie herself to him? Jimmy’s brow creased in frustration. He was just going to have to deal with his feelings by himself; after all the practice he’d had with Lou, he ought to be good at that by now!
Jimmy’s meditations were interrupted when his horse began to trot uneasily, tossing it’s head and whinnying indignantly. With tired eyes, Jimmy tried to scan the darkened landscape for a possible cause for the animal’s behaviour, and was leaning forward to pat the horse’s mane and talk soothingly into it’s ear, when a tree branch appeared out of nowhere and hit him heavily in the shoulder, knocking him to the ground.
Shaking his head to clear it and trying to reach for his gun, Jimmy called for his horse as it golloped away towards the town. Cursing again, Jimmy looked around, his gun drawn, and sighed audibly when a torch was lit and the haggard face of Harry Smith was revealed. Jimmy struggled to his feet as more torches were lit and more faces shone out in the dark night - those of the five men from the saloon and a couple more Jimmy didn’t recognise.
“Gun down, boy,” Smith’s voice demanded from the shadows, and Jimmy could imagine his moustache-covered lip curling as he spoke. “There are eight of us. You ain’t got no hope.”
Jimmy knew he was right and slowly, reluctantly, he dropped his gun to the ground before him.
“Smith, this is crazy,” Jimmy reasoned, looking around at the men before him, who all had their guns drawn. “I don’t want anymore trouble...” His voice faded out as he realised that no one was listening to him.
“Joseph,” Smith barked, and a slender young man walked cautiously up to Jimmy and picked up the colt before turning back and delivering it to Smith.
Having disarmed Jimmy, the group was much more at ease and relieved laughter ran through their ranks.
“Wild Bill Hickok, huh?” Smith grunted, turning Jimmy’s gun over in his hands, tucking it into his belt and walking up to face him. “These things get around, y’know, in such a small town. Especially when it’s someone as famous as you! Well...” Smith snarled. “Let’s see how wild you are without your gun, Bill.”
The group laughed drunkenly and Jimmy could smell the alcohol on Smith’s breath from where he stood, their faces inches apart. Jimmy searched frantically for a way to get out but he drew a blank. He was surrounded, eight guns were trained on him and his own gun was fixed in his captor’s belt.
“Smith, listen-” Jimmy began, trying again to talk his way out of trouble. Instead he was cut off by a punch from Smith which leveled him.
Lying in the dust, Jimmy felt Smith place a heavy knee in his chest and press a gun up against his forehead. Jimmy groaned under Smith’s weight. His face pushed right up against Jimmy’s, Smith spoke in a voice full of fury, spitting at him as he did so. “You were out of line today, Hickok. So was Irene. You made me look like a fool and you’re gonna pay. I’ve taught Irene her lesson and now you’re gonna learn yours.”
Smith pulled his face back and Jimmy braced himself for the bullet. But it didn’t come. Instead Jimmy heard Smith once again call for the boy called Joseph and his hands were quickly bound behind his back with a sturdy length of rope.
Jimmy could see the men standing around watching, passing a bottle of whiskey between them and fiddling with their guns, which they kept drawn.
Once Jimmy’s hands were firmly tied, the boy stepped back and Jimmy looked over his shoulder and saw Smith standing two yards away, pulling his coat off. Jimmy sat up and looked at the older man.
“You ain’t gonna get away with this, Smith. You’ll hang, I swear you will,” Jimmy warned between clenched teeth, knowing that there was no way Smith intended on letting him go alive.
“Who’s gonna come looking for *you*, boy?” Smith laughed with a snarl.
“I’ve got family,” Jimmy answered quietly but with conviction. “They’ll come for me.”
The men surrounding them had gone silent, listening to the exchange. Smith looked from them back to Jimmy and for a moment Jimmy thought he had changed his plans. But the next instant his eyes steeled again and he began to role up his sleeves. Jimmy had seen that look, the look of a man about to inflict pain and completely justified in himself for doing it, throughout his life, on various faces, and seeing it again now scared him more than he would have believed possible. Images of the Judge flashed before Jimmy’s eyes as he watched Smith finish his task. Finally Smith stopped and looked up.
“Well, they ain’t gonna find much, Hickok,” he said evenly, the malice evident in his voice. “’Cos you’re gonna die right here in the dirt, boy, and your family ain’t gonna help you.”
Smith emphasised the last words with a kick to Jimmy’s head which Jimmy had no chance of preparing himself for, and which sent him sprawling out over the ground. He could taste the dirt on his lips and could feel blood begin to trickle down his face.
Jimmy knew this time he was in trouble he wasn’t gonna be able to get himself out of. ‘When am I gonna learn?’ Jimmy thought, forlornly, the pain in his head mounting by the second. He lay quietly for a moment, listening to the drunken cheers of Smith’s friends. ‘This is it’, he thought. But he was damned if he was going to let a man like Smith make him die like this, grovelling in the dirt, waiting for the next blow. If today was the day he had to die, he may as well do it in a way that would make Teaspoon and the others proud. With a low moan, Jimmy hauled himself over onto his side and struggled to his feet. The drunken cheers, which had erupted from the onlookers when Smith had placed his kick, stopped abruptly as Jimmy stood, swaying, in front of his aggressor. Smith, however, laughed even harder and knocked Jimmy down again.
Again Jimmy pushed himself over and clumsily climbed to his feet and once again Smith knocked him down. Each time he found himself in the dirt it became harder and harder for Jimmy to force himself back to his feet, but each time he made it and looked Smith deep in the eye, letting him know he couldn’t be defeated that easily .
After only couple of minutes, Jimmy’s long, slow struggles up from the ground were nearly at an end. His face was covered in blood, his chest hurt every time he took a breath and the sound of the laughter of the onlookers rang in his ears. A fist in his face sent him stumbling backwards onto the ground, and Jimmy lay, panting for breath, trying to muster the strength to stand up yet again. As he lay groaning on the ground, his vision beginning to blur at the edges, Jimmy searched desperately for something to block out the terrible noise of the cheers and laughter which seemed to fill the night. He concentrated hard and in seconds he had pulled his favourite image before his eyes, the one he thought of on the long, wet rides which never seemed to end, the one he thought of when he lay in his bunk at night unable to find sleep which wasn’t full of nightmares. It was a picture of the bunkhouse at dinner-time, everyone gathered around the table, laughing, talking and teasing; Rachel pouring their drinks, Teaspoon dishing up the stew, leaving Cody ‘til last on purpose to aggravate the young man.
As he ran the picture of each friend through his mind, Jimmy struggled up to his feet, his head swimming with nausea, the rope cutting into his wrists. He felt himself pitch from side to side before sinking to his knees and having to struggle back up. Jimmy could see the laughing faces of the men around him, but no sound came to his ears. Smith watched him with a cruel smile on his unshaven face as he lurched back to his feet and turned to face him. Suddenly Jimmy’s world went black, and before Smith could land another punch, he collapsed to the ground, unable to hold himself up any longer. His head started to spin and just before he sank into the deep void before him, Jimmy felt his lips silently form the words he had spoken earlier: ‘They’ll come for me’. Then he let go.
Smith saw the young man drift into unconsciousness and his lip curled in laughter.
“Finish him off and then get rid of the body,” he directed the men standing around him. “There’s free drinks in it for you for a month.”
The men erupted in cheers and Smith walked back to his horse, stooping to pick up his coat as he went. Once he’d mounted his horse he turned back and looked behind him. Three of his friends lay near their horses in a drunken state, laughing as they watched the other four standing around Jimmy’s limp body, kicking him unforgivingly, belting him with the tree branch they had used to knock him off his horse earlier.
“Cocky little bastard,” Smith sneered as he rode off towards the town. “Who’s the fool now, eh?”
*****
TBC.........
Let the author know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome.
