Maggie O'Bannen 2

by Joe Slade

  Doc’s impression of the young dark haired woman was that she was uncomfortable with the situation although whether it was their presence or Archie’s exuberance, he had no idea. Ever since she had opened the door to them, her expression had been pinched, her tone tinged with belligerence. He could see that she was more interested in what was happening inside the room than what Archie was saying.

  With nothing more to go on, he decided she was probably concerned about her patient and turned his own ear to listen. He couldn’t tell what was being said but he could hear Maggie. Her voice sounded loud and excited, girlish, and she was laughing. Color had suffused her usually pale cheeks to a rosy hue by the time she emerged a few minutes later. She gripped his arm, resonating excitement as she urged him inside and toward the bed.

  ‘Father, this is my friend, Dr John Thaddeus Simpkins.’

  Sitting with his back supported against a pile of pillows, George Stanford lifted his hand in a weak welcome. ‘So you’re the one I have to thank for bringing my little girl home to me.’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that,’ Doc said, mentally assessing the invalid.

  Already he could see the man was ravaged by whatever ailed him. His white hair clung in thin patches to a head that looked too large for his skeletal body, which was dwarfed beneath layers of blankets. Although the room was relatively cool, sweat glistened on his translucent-looking skin. When he spoke, saliva dribbled from the corner of his mouth and he seemed to have trouble swallowing.

  ‘She says you saved her life,’ Stanford said.

  ‘I did what I could,’ Doc said modestly.

  The old man chuckled. ‘Archie asked you to take a look at me, did he? I can save you some time. I’m dying.’ There was no hint of self-pity.

  ‘A second opinion never hurt anyone,’ Doc opined.

  ‘Don’t be so sure. If anyone finds out you were here, you could be in grave danger.’

  ‘Well, let’s worry about that when I’ve had a look at you. Do you mind?’

  The old man shrugged weakly and Doc turned up the lamp on the nightstand. Maggie moved into the shadows. When he had seen everything he needed to see, asked what he needed to know, Doc dimmed the lamp and felt her step in close behind him.

  ‘What do you think?’ Archie asked.

  Doc hesitated for Maggie’s sake. She was expecting the worst but he would still have spared her the diagnosis if he could.

  ‘You can come out with it, Doctor,’ Stanford told him. ‘I know I’m dying. You may as well tell me why.’

  ‘From what I can tell and what you’ve told me about your other symptoms—blood in the urine, muscle cramps, convulsions, vomiting, diarrhea…’ He lifted Stanford’s hand and examined the nails again in the dim light, hoping he was wrong, but he knew he wasn’t. ‘These white lines on the nails…it all points to one thing.’

  ‘Arsenic poisoning,’ Emma blurted out.

  ‘Probably small doses over a long period of time,’ Doc added.

  Stanford gave a resigned nod. ‘Thank you, Doctor. It doesn’t change the outcome but at least now I know for sure. Archie had his suspicions but—’

  He started to cough and Emma held a bowl for him while he vomited.

  ‘He needs to rest,’ she said when she had him settled again. ‘I’m sorry, but you need to leave.’

  Doc knew it would make little difference. The man had days left to him, if that.

  Although the fit had sapped his strength, Stanford motioned for Maggie to come forward. ‘I’ll call for my attorney in the morning and make sure my affairs are in order. Archie will let you know when it’s done.’ He urged her to move in closer. Doc saw the shock on his face as he pushed back her hat and revealed the scars. ‘My God, Margaret, what…? I’m so sorry.’

  She gripped his hand. ‘Don’t be. The scars just serve as a reminder that I chose to survive.’

  He was starting to fade as fatigue rapidly weakened him. ‘I never gave up hope of finding you,’ he whispered. ‘You’ve made a dying man very happy by coming back.’

  Maggie kissed him on the forehead. ‘I’ll see you again soon, Father.’

  Chapter Five

  After they left the house, Maggie walked on ahead leaving Doc and Cavanaugh to follow at a distance. Around them, Flamstead Junction was awake even at this late hour. Light flooded out from several saloons and women’s laughter mingled with the shouts of men and the clink of bottles as hard earned money exchanged hands. After dark, in a town like this, even she could get lost and, right now, after what she had just seen she needed a drink to soothe her ire and help her think straight.

  ‘We’ll get to the bottom of this,’ Archie assured her before he took his leave in the dimly lit lobby of the hotel.

  Doc followed Maggie upstairs, his steps heavy. ‘Try to get some sleep,’ he said, leaving her outside her room.

  She nodded but a few minutes later stood breathless on Main Street. She looked back towards the hotel. In the room next to hers on the second floor, a light burned bright and Doc’s silhouette showed him pacing like a caged mountain lion.

  Choosing the nearest saloon, she peered between the split doors before she entered. Inside, business was brisk. She spied a table at the back of the room, unoccupied and half hidden beneath the overhang of the stairs and beside the silent piano. With her hat pulled down low, she found a space at the end of the bar and paid for a bottle of whiskey. Without a word the old barkeep swiped up the coins and walked away. It was that kind of place. As she turned away, another customer elbowed his way in.

  She took a seat that angled away from the room rather than faced it. The first shot of liquor burned its way down her throat like liquid fire and she choked into her hand. She couldn’t say she enjoyed the taste but she knew she’d enjoy the after effect. She swallowed another and waited for the general light-headedness it caused to settle before she poured again.

  ‘Have you got a drink in that bottle for me?’ someone asked.

  She tensed as she recognized the voice. ‘Have you got a glass?’ she asked.

  Rick slid it across the table, turned a chair and straddled it. ‘I didn’t expect to see you in here.’

  ‘Likewise.’ She pushed the drink towards him and held up her own. ‘I won’t lecture you, if you don’t lecture me.’

  They clinked glasses.

  ‘I take it things with your father didn’t go well,’ Rick said, sipping the rotgut.

  She told him everything, swallowing down whiskey at regular intervals to mute the anguish. He let her talk, his changing expression mirroring her emotions.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said when she was talked out. ‘Your luck really stinks.’

  ‘I’m getting used to it.’ She chuckled. ‘Or maybe it’s the whiskey starting to kick in. Either way, I, Maggie O’Bannen, am a survivor and I’ll get through this just like every other shitty thing life’s thrown at me.’

  They sat in silence, watching the room. Gold and silver were wont to attract the best and the worst of humanity and the patrons were a mixed bunch. Gamblers, miners, bummers and would-be businessmen mingled with saloon girls and whores. Each one seemed intent on making their fortune off the other.

  ‘So tell me about you and the sheriff,’ Maggie said.

  Rick pursed his lips. ‘Do you mind if we save that story for another time?’

  Maggie’s curiosity heightened but she knew better than to pry into a man’s business. She shrugged and tipped the bottle to pour him another drink. The amber liquid missed its target and pooled on the table.

  He covered the glass with his hand. ‘I’ve had enough.’

  She gripped the edge of the table as the room slanted. ‘Me too.’

  ‘Need some help?’ Rick asked.

  Although they were friends, Rick knew you could never be sure how Maggie might react to being handled. He still remembered the time she had threatened to kill him if he touched her without asking. It was understandable after everything she had been through at the
hands of men. But right now, she held out her hand, draping it around his neck as he ducked in beside her and wrapped his arm around her waist. Nobody paid any attention to another drunk as they left.

  Lamps set along the empty street had burned out hours ago leaving the town shrouded in shadowy darkness broken here and there by pools of light that leaked from the saloons. Even they were growing sparse as the drinking establishments and brothels closed their doors. Behind them, Rick heard the barkeep shout for last orders.

  Maggie was slouching against him when the attack came. The shot sounded unnaturally loud and lead thunked in to the wall behind him. He shoved Maggie and threw himself down after her, feeling the heat of a bullet sear his shoulder as it skimmed past. Like an extension of his arm, the .45 was in his hand and he returned fire, aiming at the muzzle flash in the alley opposite until the hammer fell on an empty chamber. A second later, he heard the Schofield beside him click on empty.

  The sudden quiet was eerie.

  ‘Who do you think’s shooting at us?’ Maggie asked, sobering up quickly.

  He didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Between Sam Pickering’s death, her father’s poisoning and the plain fact that she was Maggie O’Bannen, there was no clear-cut suspect.

  ‘Are you all right out there?’ someone shouted from behind the split doors.

  ‘Yeah,’ Rick replied as he emptied out spent shells and shoved in fresh rounds.

  Further down the street, the door of the sheriff’s office opened and a man carrying a double-barreled shotgun stepped out. After taking a look around, he hurried across the street.

  ‘Someone want to tell me what just happened?’ he called as he closed in.

  As men poured onto the plank walk, several voices carried back to him at once, fingers pointing between Rick and the alley opposite.

  ‘Get out of here, Maggie,’ Rick said. ‘I’ll take care of the sheriff.’

  He pushed her through the small crowd and watched her duck into the alley at the side of the saloon. Behind him, the sheriff called for them to stop. He raised his hands and turned around slowly to look down the twin barrels of the old Greener.

  ‘Rick,’ the sheriff said. ‘I was wondering how long it would be before our paths crossed.’

  Rick grinned. ‘Feels like old times.’

  ‘Who was that with you?’

  Rick shrugged.

  The lawman herded everyone else back inside. ‘I hardly recognized you,’ he said, when they were alone. He offered Rick a cigarette from his vest pocket, lighting it for himself when it was refused. ‘What the hell have you been doing for the past year?’

  ‘Drifting mostly.’

  ‘You couldn’t drop your ma a letter from time to time?’ The sheriff blew out a plume of smoke. ‘She didn’t blame you for what happened. She still doesn’t.’

  ‘Maybe, maybe not. I killed my brother. Eventually, she would have hated me for it.’ The conversation was one he didn’t want to have. ‘Did you come over here to talk about old times or do you want to talk about what just happened?’

  Anderson’s eyes narrowed. ‘Do you know who was shooting at you or why?’

  ‘Nope. Are we done?’

  The lawman took a long drag, coughing as the smoke hit the back of his throat. ‘Are you going to tell me who that was with you?’

  Rick pushed away from the awning post where he had been leaning. ‘Nope.’

  Sheriff Anderson stepped aside. ‘Then I guess we’re done, for now. Stay out of trouble.’

  Chapter Six

  Persistent banging woke Maggie. As she fought her way through the haze of a drink-induced headache, she realized it was someone knocking on her door.

  ‘Breakfast,’ Rick said through the panels. ‘Better not be late if you don’t want Doc to know what you did last night.’

  She barely remembered herself but she discovered she was still dressed except for her boots and the Schofield. It took a minute or two to make sense and then she remembered the bottle of whiskey, the gunshots and running. Somewhere in the back of her mind she recalled Rick dragging her upstairs, saying something about the sheriff, but the detail was lost in her whiskey-fogged mind.

  She splashed water on her face and changed into a dress, then steeled herself for whatever was coming. Rick and Doc were drinking coffee when she entered the hotel’s small dining room. Doc seemed to be in a trance as he chewed his lower lip and stared into his cup. Leo looked up from a plate of ham and eggs and smiled.

  ‘Any news from Archie?’ Maggie asked, claiming a seat.

  ‘Not yet.’ Rick handed her his cup and signaled a white-shirted waiter carrying a pot of coffee as he moved between occupied tables.

  ‘Doc told us about your pa, Maggie,’ Leo said, pushing his empty plate away. ‘I’m real sorry.’

  Maggie nodded, wishing she hadn’t when pain lanced her temple. Seeing him reduced to a shadow of his former self had devastated her, but to find out that he was being murdered, that had unleashed a whole other set of emotions. Archie, she recalled, had refused to discuss it when they got back, claiming fatigue and an early start in the morning, but she knew he had his suspicions and she intended to find out what they were one way or another—when she could think straight.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Rick asked. ‘We all know we’re not just going to get back on a train and leave without finding out who’s behind all of this. It seems to me there are a lot of questions need answering and some justice to be had before we leave Flamstead Junction.’

  ‘I want to speak to the doctor who’s been treating your father,’ Doc said, unexpectedly. ‘The man’s either an idiot or…’

  He left the thought unfinished, his intense gaze darkening as something caught his eye. Instinctively, Maggie turned, dismayed to see Sheriff Anderson walking towards them.

  ‘Morning, folks. I hope I’m not disturbing you,’ he said, helping himself to the cup of coffee the waiter was about to deliver to Rick. ‘When I found out you were all staying here I thought I’d stop in and say hello.’ His gaze passed over each of them in turn.

  Maggie didn’t know what it was about the lawman that bothered her but she had the urge to excuse herself and hide in her room. Instead, she forced herself to face him, scars and all, unflinching under his rude scrutiny.

  Without waiting for an invitation, he pulled up a chair from the adjacent table and sat down. ‘I haven’t been able to come up with any reason for what happened on the train or who the mystery man was,’ he said, as if continuing some earlier conversation. He sipped the coffee. ‘I can’t help wondering if there’s some connection though.’

  ‘Connection?’ Doc asked, when no one else enquired.

  ‘To last night’s shooting. You’ve got to admit it’s a coincidence.’ The sheriff’s eyes flickered towards Maggie in a brief challenge, then away. ‘By the way, in case you see Cavanaugh before I do, would you tell him there’s a rumor the O’Bannen gang are somewhere here around.’

  ‘Last I heard, Frank O’Bannen’s dead and most of his gang along with him,’ Doc said.

  The sheriff got to his feet. ‘If you could just tell Cavanaugh what I said, I’d be obliged.’

  ‘What makes you think we’ll be seeing Cavanaugh?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘I assumed he was a friend of yours. The desk clerk told me he came to see you soon after you booked in.’

  There was an unasked question in there but if the lawman expected some kind of admission he was sorely disappointed. With a brief nod, he walked away.

  ‘He could be trouble,’ Doc said, after he was gone.

  Maggie had a vague recollection of the night before. As the pieces fell into place, she felt physically sick. She braced herself, waiting for Rick to fill in the details but he remained tight-lipped, staring at his hands as he repeatedly flexed his fingers.

  ‘Where do you think he got an idea like that?’ Leo asked innocently.

  Again Maggie waited for the truth to come out but still Rick stayed silent.
>
  ‘From me,’ she said, at last. ‘I’m not one hundred percent sure what I said last night, when I was drunk, but I know I said something. Rick?’

  ‘You were there with Rick?’ Doc threw up his hands and got to his feet. ‘Are you completely mad, Maggie? What else happened? Did you start the fight? Pull your knife? Draw on somebody? Is that what started the trouble in the first place?’

  Maybe it was the pounding headache, maybe it was Doc’s willingness to believe the worst, but Maggie got angrily to her feet prepared to give as good as she was getting. Only Rick’s intervention stopped her from giving Doc a tongue-lashing.

  ‘Knock it off, Doc,’ Rick warned. ‘She’s a full grown woman. She doesn’t need your permission to do whatever she pleases.’

  ‘Knock it off?’ Again Doc threw up his hands in dramatic fashion. ‘We don’t know what the hell we’ve walked into and the sheriff is treating us like we’ve committed murder. The last thing we need is for him to get wind that Maggie O’Bannen is in town.’

  ‘So what if he does? Maggie hasn’t broken any laws.’

  ‘It’s not the law I’m worried about.’ He seemed to fight some inner turmoil. ‘There’s something you all need to see.’

  He reached in his inside jacket pocket and threw something down on the table.

  ‘Where did you get this?’ Maggie asked, picking up the creased dime novel and flicking through the pages.

  ‘Bart Owens gave it to me the day we left town. I didn’t want to say anything but it’s time you knew. Your story’s out there, Maggie. It’s sensationalized and ridiculous, but people will read it and believe it. Some of those are going to be friends of Bull Braddock. Others are going to be just curious enough to want to know the truth. You can’t afford to—’

  ‘You don’t need to spell it out, Doc,’ Rick said tightly. He snatched the novel from Maggie. ‘What’s done is done. Whatever the consequences are we’ll handle them.’