by Hayley Stone
“No. Regardless of what you believe, he is coming for me. But that doesn’t mean I can’t make it easier for him when he gets here. Now move.”
I took another step back, but this time I turned, yanking her arm with me. Throwing my weight at her, I pushed her back into the wall. I heard the terrible sound of a skull meeting wood, a gun going off, and then Almena cursing up a storm, swearing like a man who’s just lost his shirt at the poker table.
When it was over, my hand still gripped my piece, but hers were empty. She swung several times at my face, which surprised me a little. From her, I expected claws.
Leaning away, I managed to keep her pinned by one of her shoulders with my free hand. She was stronger than she looked, but I still had the advantage of height and better footing. I trained my gun on her but rested my finger outside the trigger guard. I glanced down briefly, wondering where the bullet landed. Whether either of us had been shot.
“Are you hurt?” I asked her. When she refused to speak, I pressed her shoulder and said more firmly, “I asked if you were hurt.”
Her chin jutted out, and I thought she was gonna spit at me. But she just shook her head and released fistfuls of my coat. I knew the following day would bring bruises where her fingers had briefly dug into my arms, but at least there’d still be a tomorrow, for both of us. That was something.
“I’m gonna have to tie you up now. You understand why.”
“I could’ve killed you just now,” she said. I had her tearing strips of linen off the bed at gunpoint. Dorothy wasn’t gonna be happy about it, but it wasn’t like I carried rope around with me. I was fully prepared to add it to my bill.
“You wouldn’t have been the first to try,” I said.
She tore another long strip, looking down at her hands. “That wasn’t me trying.”
Could’ve fooled me.
Chapter Two
The hunt and capture of Guillory had robbed me of nearly two nights of sleep, and I was feeling tipsy moving into the bright morning. Dorothy brought me a plate of eggs over toast, and stayed with me while I ate, distracting me with some light talk about a problem she’d been having with the young couple I saw walking yesterday.
“I don’t mean to be a gossip,” Dorothy said, which is what she always said right before sharing some local bit of hearsay. “And I don’t mean to be crude, but they’re just so… loud.”
“Newlyweds, I’m guessing?” I asked absently, regarding my breakfast like a rattlesnake. My stomach was in knots. Not since my first time catching a wanted fella near St. Louis had I felt this uneasy. Unlike Almena, he hadn’t been willing to come peaceably. I’d had to put him down outside a tailor’s shop; the storefront had blue shutters and a sign missing its vowels. Funny I still remembered that.
“Naturally,” Dorothy said, rolling her eyes. They were a pretty shade of blue that contrasted nicely with her brown skin. Shame most folk didn’t spare her a second glance, often more interested in her younger sister, Sara, who enjoyed singing for customers at the saloon down the street. It was their loss, far as I was concerned. Dorothy kept a fine house, and she took care of me every time I came through.
“Something wrong with my cooking?” Dorothy asked after another minute of watching me shuffle food around my plate. At her offended look, I stuffed some yolk into my mouth, but chewed slowly and swallowed with difficulty.
“This business with the lady fugitive’s got you all twisted up, ain’t it?”
“Something like that.”
I watched sunlight paint the sky through a window at the end of the hall. It filled in the space around some harmless gray clouds. By all accounts, it was gonna be a beautiful day.
Dorothy touched my elbow, encouraging me to keep eating. I gave up on the eggs and attempted the toast. “You think she’s innocent?” Dorothy asked.
“No, don’t imagine she is.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
I set my slice of toast down in a bed of crumbs, still only partially-eaten. The egg yolks stared up at me like a pair of rheumy eyes, one bleeding into the other. I was fighting a losing battle. Nothing was gonna stay down ‘til Guillory was safely delivered to the courthouse in Abilene. Maybe not even then. She was the closest thing to a celebrity in these parts, after all. The marshal’s office in St. Louis could end up asking me to ferry her there instead if they felt the district court wasn’t gonna do its job. They loved their hangings in Missouri.
“Probably nothing,” I said, offering a smile. “Just too much time in my head’s all. Anyway, think you could bring Miss Guillory something to eat?”
She pinched her lips together. “What’s a criminal like to eat for breakfast?”
“Eggs’d be fine, some more toast—and juice, if you have it.”
Dorothy shuffled off, but the cold stone of nausea in my belly persisted.
A short time after that, Sheriff Jedediah Strickland and his boys rode in.
Marshals are encouraged to work with local law enforcement, but my neck crawled seeing the sheriff and his men arrive, and so early in the morning. Boded ill. Among the men Jed brought with him, one or two proved good with his hands. Soon after arriving, the men purchased wood and nails from the general store. I saw the writing on the walls even before the men got to work digging a small trench and putting up the post. They were building a poor man’s version of the hangman’s scaffold. There were too few trees in the area, and of those, none with branches strong enough to support a man—or, in this case, a woman. Sheriff wasn’t about to let that stop him. He was determined to see Almena Guillory swing.
I stood outside the hotel, barring the entrance, my coat tucked behind my leather in a subtle threat. Jed wanted to move Almena from the hotel room into a small windowless shed behind the grocer’s that smelled like rotting wood and salted meat, but I put a stop to that.
“Don’t be such a soft touch, son,” Jed said with a mouth full of apple. Sun provided plenty to see by, but it also drove deep shadows into the caverns of his old face. As long as I’d known him, coming up on a few years now, Jed had always been a fair, reasonable sort. I couldn’t say what it was, but something about Guillory turned him mean. “It’s just for a few hours. I’m sure she’s stayed in worse accommodations.”
I removed my hat, tousling my dark blond hair. “My issue ain’t just with the shed, Jed, but while we're on the subject, I don’t see why you wanna put her in there.”
Jed pried off another chunk of apple with his two front teeth. Little pieces of meat sprayed from his mouth when he spoke, others fell into his black, thistly beard. “She’s a notorious outlaw. Where else would we put her?”
“What’s wrong with the room in the hotel?”
“The windows, for one.”
“She’s not gonna jump.”
Jed shrugged. “Seen it happen before. Best we not take any chances.” He grabbed my shoulder and shook it gently. The action reminded me of my father. I clenched my jaw, averting my gaze. “Relax, son. You did good tracking her down. Your job’s over now. Time to let justice run its course.”
“Wasn’t aware you’d summoned a judge and pulled together a jury,” I said, meeting his eyes again. My face felt hard and stiff. “You hiding state’s witnesses in that thatch?”
Jed tossed the apple to the ground, kicking it away. He wiped his hands off on the front of his vest, spat out the side of his mouth. “You’re a good man, Apostle. Decent. But that’s your problem. Decent men don’t know when to be hard—too busy being decent, you see? But a righteous man…. A righteous man knows there’s a time and place to get biblical if you take my meaning.”
“I take it fine. Don’t mean I agree with it.”
Jed smiled tightly, and stared up at the cloudless sky, letting out a breath. I noticed more lines in his face I’d never seen before. “Maybe not, but you’ll respect my decision. Won’t you, Apostle?”
He looked straight at me. Again, I flashed back to my father jostling me by the shoulders, the whi
skey on his breath beating me over, his eyes bright and wild, him repeating, you’ll respect me, so help me God, you will respect me while my mother cried somewhere in the next room.
“No,” I said, concentrating on a spot near the porch overtaken by yellow weeds, and then at the teardrop stain of tobacco on Jed’s boot. For some reason, it was hard for me to look at him directly. My fingers flexed at my sides, releasing a fist. “I can’t in good conscience say I will respect it, Jed. Or you, if you try hanging that woman. I said it before, this ain’t how we do things.”
Jed frowned. “You know why they call her the Grizzly Queen, don’t you?”
“Jed…”
“No, you’re gonna hear this. You think she deserves a trial. You think she’s owed it. You think I’m just after—what? Frontier justice?“ His voice closed on my ear, low, controlled, but angrier than I’d ever heard him. “If you knew half of what she’s done, you wouldn’t be here judging me. You’d be out there holding a hammer, too. She’s not some innocent girl accused of shoplifting from a goddamn lady’s boutique. Almena Guillory is a murderer. Her and her ilk rob trains and mail coaches; they’ve held up saloons, rustled cattle, stolen horses. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s responsible for shooting the goddamn President hisself!”
Jed had gotten himself all worked up. Only thing for it was to let him rant, burn himself out.
“Before she moved out here, you know what they called her? Back in the South? Killin’ Al Guillory. They say she dressed like a man during the war just so she could see some action. Make no mistake, son. Killing’s in her blood. Given half the chance, she’d cut you down and wouldn’t bat an eye.”
In the moment he stopped to take a breath, I thought back to a different conversation.
I could’ve killed you just now.
You wouldn’t have been the first to try.
That wasn’t me trying.
“I don’t know about that.” I rubbed my jaw where Almena had managed to land one good hit earlier. “Sometimes people surprise you if you let ‘em.”
“And sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they shoot you in the back and stand there watching as you bleed out in the dust.”
His words inspired a sudden epiphany. I looked at him critically. “Is this personal, Jed? Did she do something to you? Guillory?”
“After tomorrow, it won’t matter what she’s done,” the sheriff answered stiffly. “She’ll be done. And then we’ll go after her man, and the rest of her gang.”
“Sounds like you’re looking to rack up quite the body count.”
“If you were interested in the business of saving souls, Marshal, you should have become a preacher.”
There was no more hammering, sawing. No one at work. The sheriff’s boys were done fiddling with the structure, or near to it. Already people stood around on the boardwalk, and in the street, passing curious glances at one another.
Dorothy caught me on the landing of the stairs, going up while she was coming down.
“What’s a matter?” she asked.
“Trouble. You mind I check out a bit early?”
She shook her head, short hair bobbing around her cheeks. “Course not. Do what you gotta.”
I thanked her and continued to Almena’s room. Once there, I knocked on the door with the toe of my boot. “Miss Guillory?”
“What do you want now, Marshal?”
“I’m coming in. Back away from the door, please. Try anything, I won’t be responsible for what happens. Clear?”
I listened a moment, heard her steps retreat, and went in.
“Look, Marshal,” Almena said. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, wagging her foot. When she stretched, I noticed stains decorating the spots beneath her arms. She’d popped more buttons near her chest, no doubt her answer to the hot, sweaty darkness of the room, and her hat lay discarded in the corner by the piss pot. “Unless you fancy letting me go, better you leave me be. I’ve nothing more to say—”
“Some men downstairs. They’re planning on hanging you.” I grabbed up my pack, same one had all my basics—stale biscuits, bag of coffee beans, tinder, couple pieces of string because you never knew when you’d need some good string—then adjusted my belt. I hoped I wouldn’t have to use my guns today, but I always had to prepare for that chance.
She blanched, then tried to cover it. “You sound surprised.”
“Disappointed, more like.”
A cough or maybe a laugh. “It’d save you some time and effort, though, wouldn’t it?”
Her words pricked me. She thought that little of my integrity?
“No, ma’am. Didn’t go through all the trouble tracking you down and capturing you alive just to let a bunch of locals string you up. Now come on, we’re leaving.” I headed for the door, then stopped and turned back when I didn’t hear her move. “I bear you no ill will, Miss Guillory.”
“You bear me no ill will? Is that supposed to be humorous?”
“No time for this.” I retraced my steps and snatched her off the bed, half-dragging her toward the door. I’d never handled a woman so roughly in my life—minus my first meeting with Guillory when again, she’d forced my hand—and I lamented having to do so now, but she gave me no choice.
“You’re worrying for nothing,” she said as we booked it down the hall. Noticed she had no trouble keeping up for someone claiming to be unconvinced of the danger. “I’m not going to swing. Not today, anyway.”
“Almena. Your lover ain’t coming. You’ve got to make peace with that.”
“You keep your fictions, Marshal, and I’ll keep mine.”
Dorothy was downstairs, and she wasn’t alone. Sheriff and his boys were with her. I pulled Almena behind me, leaving her a few steps back, and met Jed on the ground floor. My stomach lurched, what little breakfast I’d had threatening to come back up on me. This wasn’t gonna be any kind of pleasant.
“Jed.”
“Apostle.” His eyes shot to Almena, full of loathing. He snorted. “Not so tough now, are we, sweetheart?”
“How’s your son, Sheriff?” She appeared to suddenly remember something. “Oh, wait.”
The sheriff jerked forward with a snarl, ramming my shoulder. I barely managed to keep him from climbing the stairs.
“Bitch!” he snarled.
Almena just stood there wearing an eerie smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“You see? What did I tell you? She’s a godless piece of northern trash.” His beard glistened with spit.
“Come off it, Jed. You’re provoking her.” Though I did wonder what Almena meant by her words. In all the time I’d known him, Jed never mentioned having a son, though judging by what had just passed between Almena and him, I gathered there was good reason for that.
“Enough of this.” Jed motioned to his boys. “Take her.”
“Now wait just a minute—”
Two of the sheriff’s men bull-rushed me. My head smashed into the wall, loosening my thoughts like dust. I considered drawing down on the men, but Dorothy was standing right there, along with that couple from before. The young missus looked right terrified, especially when her gaze caught on Almena. I wasn’t about to risk anyone innocent getting shot, and I didn’t like my odds against such a large coalition of vigilantes either. My guns stayed put.
Ignoring my protests, the remaining two deputies barreled past, clomping up the stairs in their noisy clodhoppers, tracking grime all over Dorothy’s nice carpet. Guillory resisted, but they got hold of her linen binds, dragged her down, and thrust her outside. She blinked rapidly in the sudden light like an old hermit, recoiling from open sky. Before her eyes had a chance to adjust, the sheriff’s deputies started pushing her toward the road.
She smelled like urine passing by, which I hadn’t noticed before in my haste. My frown deepened. What had she been thinking? If the lady needed privacy to relieve herself during the night, all she had to do was ask. But, no. Instead, she’d pissed herself. I swear, the woman was stubborn
as sin.
Still, that remained for a judge to decide.
“Easy, boys,” Jed said, heading out after Almena. “That there’s a federal. Don’t want to leave any permanent damage.”
A moment later the men released me, running to catch the spectacle. All save for one sorry bastard who decided to teach me a lesson. His bony knuckle slammed into my gut, folding me over. Air fled my lungs, causing me to wheeze for a few seconds. I didn’t see the fiend leave, but when I stood back up, he was gone.
No one stopping me from pursuing, I lit out the door after them.
Chapter Three
Almena’s red gown looked gaudy in the sunlight, glittering and cheap. Matching tears reached up both thighs that I didn’t remember being there before.
Despite Dorothy’s kind and unexpected offer to lend Almena something more appropriate to wear—“no lady, saint or sinner, should swing with her undercarriage flapping in the breeze!”—Jed made Almena keep the dress on. He said it suited her, and his men laughed, describing her in words not worth repeating. I was embarrassed, both by their language and the intention behind it; these weren’t true deputies of the United States government. They were boys giggling at the sight of bare skin. But they were also angry, maybe a little afraid, too, and that made them dangerous.
“Sheriff!” I quickly caught up with the group. Guillory glanced back at me, but I couldn’t read her expression. One of the deputies shoved her forward, and she turned back toward the sun. “Sheriff, I’m asking you to reconsider.”
Despite my effort to intercept him, Jed didn’t slow. “I’m not having this conversation with you again, Apostle.”
Where most of the sheriff’s deputies appeared giddy, bumping into one another as they trailed behind Guillory, Jed’s face was drawn, his brown eyes empty. Having forgone his duster in the heat, the sheriff held the front of his suspenders with tense knuckles, as if he were pulling himself forward. I hoped he was having second thoughts.