by Andy Monk
“He didn’t say so outright… but he intimated it.”
“Very generous of him.”
“I think he would expect some reciprocation.”
“What would he want in return?”
“Oh Amos come on. Not all men are like you!”
Well, that was certainly true…
“How… do you feel about that?”
Molly raised an eyebrow, “Delighted obviously.”
“Do you like him?”
“Are you being serious? He can’t possibly be inheriting that much!” She shook her head and poured another shot.
“Not tempted then?” Amos asked carefully, he felt a sudden urge to go and find this lawyer Furnedge and punch him in the face.
Curious…
“The only difference between what he and the Mayor are offering me is the variety. I’d still be whoring myself.”
“It might not be what he meant. Grief can do strange things.”
“He seemed to be coping with his loss remarkably well,” she shrugged, “still, not something I have to worry about if you still want to help me.” She glanced towards Cece.
There was something very wrong with Hawker’s Drift, with the Mayor, the deputies, the ranch, even with Cece Jones. It was a wrongness that nagged him, but not enough for him to want to stay and get to the bottom of it. In the end, it meant nothing to him; it wouldn’t help him find Severn. It wouldn’t help him find peace. Neither of course would helping Molly, but he had no intention of leaving her here and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she reminded him so much of Megan.
And if he kept telling himself that enough times he was pretty sure he’d start believing it.
“I still want to help you.”
She leaned forward and lowered her voice, “Then let’s get out of this fucking town.”
“We’ll discuss that in private… too many ears here.”
“Shall we go back to mine then?”
She was twisting her hair again.
Before he could think of a plausible excuse the doors of the saloon crashed open as a tall heavy set man rushed in, looking wildly about. Amos didn’t recognise him, but as soon as the man’s eyes fell on them he veered in their direction.
“You Amos?” He bellowed, not breaking stride.
He put down his beer and nodded.
“Uh-huh.”
“Bastard!” The man screamed raising a cut-throat razor as he came at him, the blade making a wild arc towards his face.
Amos pistoned out of his chair, head down, his shoulder ramming into his assailant’s midriff. The man made a startled sucking noise as Amos straightened up and sent him somersaulting over his shoulder to crash onto the floor.
By the time he tried to regain his feet Amos had drawn his gun and swivelled round to stand over him.
“I really wouldn’t,” Amos said.
The man was still clutching the cut-throat; he was wide-eyed with fury and panting hard. Amos could feel the hatred; hot, hungry and pungent, he wasn’t entirely sure even looking down a pistol barrel was going to stop him trying his luck.
Amos cocked the gun.
“Drop that pistol!” A voice roared from behind him, “and stay on the fucking floor Ash!”
“What do you say?” Amos asked Ash.
Furious eyes still locked on Amos, Ash’s fingers slowly unpeeled from the razor and it fell from his grasp. Amos nodded and lowered his weapon. Looking around he found the Sheriff and his deputies fanned out behind him, all with guns levelled on him.
“I said drop it!” the Sheriff repeated. There was no other sound in the saloon. Molly was on her feet, backed into the corner, she nodded furiously at him.
“Ok…” Amos slowly placed his gun on the table and raised his hands.
“Get him out of here Vasquez,” the Sheriff ordered one of his men, nodding towards Ash who was still sprawled on the floor.
“Leave this fucker to me Sam… please,” Ash implored as Vasquez hauled him to his feet.
Shenan grabbed his arm, “You’re damn lucky we got here in time; otherwise I might have had to string you up instead of him. Now go back to your family. They need you. Vasquez.”
Ash nodded as Shenan scooped up the razor, closed it and handed it back at him. For a moment, Amos thought he was going to try to come at him again, but instead, after a pause, he slipped it into his pocket. As Vasquez led him past Amos he turned and spat in his face.
“I’m going to do that to your corpse after they fucking hang you,” he hissed.
Amos wiped his sleeve across his face as he watched the deputy push Ash towards the door. Once he was gone he looked at Shenan.
“Anyone feel like telling me what that was about?”
The Widow
“We need to speak to you about the assault and rape of Emily Godbold,” Sheriff Shenan announced while Blane dangled a pair of cuffs in front of Amos’ nose, “are you going to come quietly?”
“Are you fuckin’ serious?” Molly demanded.
Shenan ignored her, though one of his men did raise his shotgun a little in her direction.
Amos’ eyes flicked across the other deputies, all of whom were wearing their long canvas coats despite the warmth of the evening and all of whom were either carrying shotguns, rifles or had their hands resting on their holstered revolvers. Amos looked more like he was weighing up an invitation to play cards than a man who’d just been accused of rape.
Does he only ever get in a flap when I make a pass at him?
The saloon really was silent now; all eyes had turned on their little scene in the corner. The Sheriff had spoken loudly enough once Ash had gone, deliberately she guessed, for everyone in the place to hear what was going on.
A few of the men had already risen to their feet, the ones that were usually attracted to trouble.
News of the attack on Emily had spread rapidly around town and there would be plenty of volunteers happy to take justice into their own hands.
“This is bullshit!” Molly protested again, nobody paid her much attention, save the deputy with the shotgun who raised it a little further.
“I don’t even know who Emily Godbold is,” Amos said evenly, “and I certainly didn’t rape her.”
“Then you’ve nothing to worry about,” Blane told him and jangled the cuffs again. The Sheriff shot a slightly irritated look at his deputy, but didn’t add anything.
“It doesn’t appear I have much choice?”
“You don’t.”
Amos nodded, eyes never leaving Blane’s. They regarded each other before Amos held out his hands. He really didn’t have a choice, but Molly felt sick to her stomach. She didn’t think for a second that he was a rapist even if Emily’s father clearly did, but she wasn’t sure if he went with the Sheriff and his men that that she’d ever see him alive again.
Blane put on the cuffs none too gently. Amos flinched slightly, his first real reaction to any of this.
“Sheriff?”
“Stay out of it,” Shenan growled at her, “Bad business…” The Sheriff was fat and old, his face crumpled beneath a scratchy beard. He carried himself wearily, as if everything required just a little more effort than it was really worth. She didn’t know him particularly well, but unlike most of his deputies he at least came across as being human.
Blane took Amos’ gun from the table before pushing him towards the door, “Do I get a receipt for that?” Amos asked, “I’ll want it back.”
“Sure, we’re real by the book town…” Shenan said as he was led away.
“He didn’t do anything,” Molly insisted, trailing after the lumbering Sheriff, along with half the saloon. A few of the hotter heads were hurling insults, but she wasn’t really paying them any attention, she just needed to get Shenan to listen to her.
“He really didn’t do anything!” She said more forcefully as they burst through the saloon doors. A small crowd was waiting outside, at least Ash Godbold was nowhere to be seen and the deput
ies formed a loose circle around Amos as they moved across the square towards the Sheriff’s office.
Few things irritated Molly more than being ignored and she had to fight down the urge to start screaming at the Sheriff and manhandling his deputies.
“He didn’t fuckin’ do anything! Why won’t you assholes listen to me!”
Amos glanced back over his shoulder at her and grinned, she supposed he was trying to be reassuring, but it just managed to irritate her more. She slowed down and let go of the skirts she had been holding up as she’d scurried in the wake of Hawker’s Drift’s lawmen.
She became aware of the voices behind her and turned to look at the knot of townsfolk that had rapidly gathered in the square. Some were scurrying past her in pursuit of the deputies; one oaf caught her hard with his shoulder, if his gleaming wide eyes had not been so avidly fixed upon Amos she might have suspected he’d done it on purpose.
“Hey!” She managed to mutter, before noticing the remainder of the crowd weren’t staring at Amos being carted away, but at her. Their eyes were cold in the warm evening air as they squinted into the glare of the low sun; the harsh guttural shadows cast across their features made them seem, momentarily, inhuman. A few were muttering, the words she could make out were not pleasant. All of them looked angry, snarling mad angry. All of them bar one slight figure at the back that she only noticed when Bradley Cloun turned to whisper something to Audley Cobham whilst keeping his dark hooded eyes firmly upon Molly.
It was Guy Furnedge, looking dapper in a new pinstripe suit; he didn’t look angry at all.
He looked like a cat that fully expected to get its cream.
*
“Mrs McCrea, perhaps it would be best if I escorted you home?”
Furnedge had appeared at her side, and the way he gripped her elbow, as much as the cold stares being directed at Molly, made her feel she had little more choice than Amos.
“My, people do seem a little het up tonight,” Furnedge said, tipping back his derby slightly once they were off down Main Street. Did he think it made him look a bit rakish?
Molly glanced back and was relieved none of the crowd (which was rapidly becoming a mob) had decided to follow them. There was, however, a steady trickle of people heading up Main Street towards Pioneer Square; news spread quickly in a small town.
“He didn’t do anything!” Molly insisted, as much to herself as to Furnedge, who, she was dimly aware, still had a hand upon her elbow.
“Who?”
“Amos!”
“The chap the Sheriff arrested?” Furnedge was a lousy liar, she was pretty sure he knew exactly who Amos was.
“Well, it’s probably all just a misunderstanding. Everything will be fine and tickety by morning.”
“Tickety?” Molly snapped, “They’re going to fuckin’ hang him!”
“We do things properly in this town. They’ll be a trial and everything.” Furnedge appeared to be trying very hard not to look pleased, “They’ll only hang him if he’s found guilty.”
“He isn’t guilty!”
“How well do you know him?”
“Well enough,” she fixed a cold look upon the lawyer.
“Men can be…”
“Amos isn’t like that!”
Furnedge shrugged.
Molly yanked her arm out of Furnedge’s grasp and stomped down Main Street fast enough for Furnedge to have to scurry to keep up with her.
Just how well did she know Amos?
Not very, she supposed, but he’d nearly climbed up the wall when she’d offered herself to him; hardly the behaviour of a rapist. Unless mouthy widows putting themselves on a plate just weren’t his thing of course. Perhaps he preferred younger game…
How could she be so sure he was innocent? Lord alone knew she’d spent enough of her adult life tagging along with one kind of degenerate or another. Why should Amos be any different? Wasn’t she just doing what she always did, ignoring a man’s demons in the vain hope that he would protect her from the bigger monsters in the world?
But Amos is different…
Molly managed to simultaneously feel both guilty for doubting him and foolish for trusting him.
“Well, how are things otherwise?” Furnedge asked, panting slightly from the effort to match her stride.
“Apart from my friend being falsely accused of raping and beating a girl and my husband being dead, not to mention the money I owe the Mayor and the prospect of the whorehouse?” Molly spun on her heels to face the lawyer. “Well, I guess I’m just fuckin’ tickety!”
Furnedge winced and fiddled with his sleeve, letting her cool before dipping his toe in again.
“Well, I’m sure the matter with the Mayor can be… resolved.”
The Mayor… Tom had been up to something with the Mayor and he’d died, Amos had been sticking his nose around the Mayor’s ranch and generally into his business and now…
Of course, how could she have been so soft! This was that creepy patch-eyed fucker’s work. With Amos out of the way, she was trapped in this wretched town, no way out but the cat house or Furnedge. If she’d understood him right.
Would the Mayor go to that much trouble just to keep her in town? It seemed unlikely, but then again Amos had been looking into Tom’s death, he’d found those dead horses and the burnt rifle. The Mayor might not frame a man and hang him just to keep one loud mouthed widow in town, but to dispose of someone who might be able to link him to murder?
Yeah, that hat fit real snug.
Her attention snapped back to the lawyer as his words sunk in. “How exactly would they be resolved… Guy?”
She was tired of Furnedge dancing around her, she had a pretty good idea, but it was time to find out exactly what he wanted. As they walked on she drew a little closer to him, not close enough to be inappropriate, but close enough to fill her nostrils with the smell of almond paste and boiled cabbage.
“Well…” he cleared his throat and flushed slightly, “…this may not be the most opportune moment to discuss matters. I can tell you’re distressed.”
“I am… I’m also very resilient.”
Furnedge stared at her, wheels clicking furiously away somewhere behind his narrow little eyes, before answering. “Well, I shall soon be a man of some means, once the obligatory paperwork is completed you understand?”
Molly nodded and tried not to breathe more than was absolutely necessary.
“I would then be in a position to discharge you from the Mayor’s debt.”
“That would be very generous, but why would you do that?” She looked at him with wide, unblinking and, she hoped, quite innocent eyes. It was a difficult look for her to pull off, but she thought she’d nailed it.
“Well…” his eyes were growing uncharacteristically wide behind his spectacles, “…you must know that I am very fond of you…”
Ah, she’d been right…
“Very fond if you want to pay off my debts, they are not inconsiderable...”
“You are worth every cent!” Furnedge spluttered.
Molly smiled, just.
“And this would be purely a financial arrangement? Is there anything you would want… in return?”
“As I said, I am very fond of you. We are both alone… I am sure we can be very happy together, not to mention comfortable. Exceedingly comfortable, actually…” Furnedge finished the sentence with a knowing little smile as he run his fingers down the lapels of his jacket. It was actually a very nice suit and clearly more expensive than the kind he normally wore. Sadly, it didn’t make him any less of an asshole. She’d thought he’d just want a fumble or two in return for helping her out, but he actually wanted more. Oh God, did the poor sap actually think he loved her?
“You are only very recently widowed?”
“We would have to be discreet of course! To begin with!”
He was getting rather excited.
“Of course…” she let her eyes slip away. She was nearly home.
“Are
you… conducive to the proposal?” He asked quickly, stumbling over the words as they gushed out of him and his cheeks flushed deeply again.
“You have been very kind to me…” Molly replied carefully “…perhaps it would be good for both of us.”
“It would! It would!” He spurted enthusiastically, his eyes widening even further as a big beaming smile split his face. He looked so happy she felt a momentary pang of guilt.
“I would need to think upon it of course…”
“Of course.”
“Though this business with Amos is… quite upsetting, and distracting.”
“Well… of course, but it will be sorted quickly, I’m sure.”
Yeah, with Amos dangling in the breeze if the Mayor gets his way.
“You’re a lawyer, perhaps you could look into it for me?”
Furnedge screwed his face up; like a child presented with a plate of greens when they’d been expecting ice cream.
“Well, it’s a criminal matter. Not my field at all.”
“I would be very grateful…” She stared at him evenly and resisted the urge to flutter her eyelashes. No need to lay it on too thick.
“I’m sure,” there was a coldness in Furnedge’s voice she hadn’t heard before, “but really, there is nothing I can do. Justice will out my dear.”
They’d reached her house; she hoped he didn’t want to come in.
“Well, here we are!” He exclaimed, all bright and puppyish again.
He wanted to come in.
He had no interest in helping Amos; her womanly wiles were only going to get her so far, even with Furnedge. Inevitably he probably saw Amos as a rival for her affection, he wasn’t to know her affections just gave Amos the jitters; him being locked up was something Furnedge probably considered convenient. Being hung would be even more convenient.
It was all, Molly realised, very convenient.
“Would you like me to come in?” Furnedge asked hopefully, “just to see you settled?”
I’d rather eat dirt from the fireplace.
“That would be lovely… but I need some time to think things over,” she forced a sweet little smile, “perhaps they’ll be other times for coming in…”
Furnedge almost swooned.