Rattler's Law, Volume One

by James Reasoner

  "No, ma'am, none at all. But it might be a good idea if I walked with you. Like I told you—and like I reckon you've found out for yourself—Abilene can be a rough town sometimes."

  Augusta still didn’t look at him. "Very well, if you want to accompany me, I suppose it would be all right."

  As they continued to walk down Texas Street, Cully recalled the way she had drawn away from him when they were riding in the wagon, and carefully avoided getting too close to her. He didn’t speak for a few minutes, unsure how Augusta would react if he tried to start a conversation. But a pretty girl had not yet been born whom Cully couldn’t talk to, so he finally asked, "How's your jaw? It looked like you caught a pretty good wallop."

  "It's sore," Augusta admitted grudgingly, "but I'm sure it will be all right."

  "We could go to the doctor's office and have her take a look at it."

  "I'm sure that's not necessary." Augusta paused, as if absorbing the meaning of his words. "Her? You mean the doctor in Abilene is a woman?"

  "That's right," Cully assured her. "Dr. Rose Keller. You won't find a better sawbones anywhere on the frontier. It took folks a while to get used to it."

  "It's highly commendable that the town has allowed a female doctor to practice here." Augusta sniffed. "I've often thought that the world would be a better place if there were more women in positions of authority, instead of—"

  "Instead of us whiskey-guzzling men?" Cully finished her statement with a grin.

  "Now that you've stated it so bluntly, yes. That's exactly what I meant to say."

  He shrugged. "Could be you're right. Men have made plenty of mistakes. Most folks do, I reckon."

  Augusta didn’t reply. After a few moments Cully went on, "Did Joshua know what you were going to do tonight?"

  Augusta shook her head. "He had nothing to do with this. I simply had to do something, after seeing that tavern so close to the hotel. It was like...like it was ordained that the first battle would be fought there."

  "For such a little gal, you sure are big on talking about battles," Cully commented dryly.

  She stopped walking and turned toward him. "And what would you have me do, Deputy?" she demanded. "Give up all of my principles, give up on the cause to which I've devoted my life? Perhaps I should just admit that the war to defeat liquor cannot be won and slink home like a dog? Is that what you want?"

  As the words tumbled from her lips her eyes flashed, and Cully thought she was even prettier tonight than she had been the day before. Even disheveled from the brawl, even with her discolored jaw, Augusta Hall was a lovely young woman. And her voice had the same fiery sincerity that he had heard when she was talking to Joshua and Sister Lorraine at the church.

  He held up his hands, palms out, in surrender. "Now just a minute," he chuckled. "I don't want anybody giving up on something that's important to them. I reckon we've all got to fight our own fights. But there might be better ways of going at it, instead of barging into a place and hoo-rawing the folks who are there."

  "Perhaps you're right." Augusta sighed. "Sometimes I feel as though this whole business is just too much for me, Deputy."

  That was the first sign she had given of opening up with him, and Cully wanted to keep her talking. As they started walking down the street again, more slowly this time, he asked, "You mentioned going home. Where is that?"

  Augusta hesitated, then said, "I was born and raised in Philadelphia. That's where I lived until my... until I came to Kansas."

  "What do your folks think of you coming out here like this?"

  "My parents are dead, Deputy. There's just me and—" Augusta drew a quick breath and shook her head. "There's just me now."

  Cully frowned. That was the second time she had started to say something about somebody else. Trying to draw her out, he asked, "You don't have any other family at all?"

  "None," she declared, shaking her head vehemently. "I'm on my own. All I have are my allies in the fight against liquor. They're all I need."

  "Like Joshua." Cully's words were a statement, not a question.

  "Your brother is an honorable man. He told me that I would face quite a difficult task here in Abilene, but he never tried to dissuade me."

  "No, I don't reckon he would." Cully hadn’t meant to steer the conversation around to Joshua. Now he regretted giving Augusta the opportunity to tell him what a wonderful fellow Joshua was. Cully admired his brother; he knew some of the things Joshua had gone through. But that didn’t mean Cully wanted to hear about it from Augusta Hall. "What made you so opposed to liquor in the first place?" he asked, changing the subject.

  Augusta didn’t reply for a long time, and he sensed she was mulling over her answer. Finally, she said, "It seems clear to me. Alcohol is a great danger. People can...can be hurt because of it."

  Then her lips closed firmly, and she refused to answer any more questions about her background. Cully tried a couple of times, attempting to be subtle about it, then gave it up as a bad job. Whatever had happened to Augusta in the past—and he was sure there was something—she was keeping it to herself.

  He looked up and saw that they had walked in a circle. They were approaching the Grand Palace Hotel again, and this time when they reached the door, Augusta started to go in. Placing a hand on her arm, Cully stopped her and was surprised that she didn’t pull away from him.

  "Look, Miss Hall," he said sincerely, "I don't want to tell you your business, but I'd appreciate it if you'd be more careful about what you say when you go into the saloons around here. Angus's is a nice, peaceful place. You start a fight in the Bull's Head or another saloon, and it's liable to get out of hand in a hurry. Folks could be badly hurt, and you might be one of them."

  "Thank you, Deputy," she replied. "I realize you're just worried about keeping the peace. That is your job, after all. But I'm afraid I have to follow a higher law than that set down by the State of Kansas. I...I hope you understand."

  "I'm trying to," Cully admitted. Then, remembering Joshua’s timid behavior of the night before, he abruptly decided to see what Augusta would do if he tried to kiss her.

  His lips had barely brushed hers when she sprang back and brought her palm across his face in a ringing slap. "How dare you!" she exclaimed. "I had thought you might have the makings of a gentleman, Deputy, but I see now that I was wrong!" Haughtily she turned and stalked into the hotel, slamming the door behind her.

  Cully grinned despite the stinging imprint of her hand on his cheek. He had to find out, and now he supposed he knew. It wasn’t the first time he had been slapped. And he told himself ruefully, it probably wouldn’t be the last.

  5

  The incident at Angus's was the first of many clashes that occurred over the next few days. Each night Augusta Hall visited several of Abilene's saloons and demanded that they close. She was greeted with hoots and catcalls from the customers and polite refusals from the owners.

  Word of her battle with Jessica Partin had traveled around town quickly and caused a minor sensation. Eventually, dozens more people than ever could have been packed into Angus's claimed to have witnessed the short brawl. But the gossip alerted the town's saloonkeepers to keep an eye out for Augusta, and they issued strict orders to their employees not to be provoked into a fight or even an argument with the tiny temperance crusader.

  Cully had visited a few taverns, letting the saloon owners know that he wouldn’t like it if anything happened to Augusta. If they wanted to take that as an official warning from the marshal's office, he thought, that was their business.

  Lucas Flint was aware of the situation as well, having been told about Augusta not only by Cully, but also by Angus. Flint had stopped at the Scotsman's tavern for a beer and been surprised by the state of Angus's nose.

  "Mule kick you?" Flint asked sardonically.

  Angus frowned darkly. "Has Cully been talking t' ye?" he asked.

  Flint shook his head. "He didn't say anything about you being in a fight, if that's what you mean
."

  "Ah. Well, in tha' case, I ran into a door."

  "I see," Flint replied dryly. "Must have been a door with a pretty good punch to make a man's nose swell up like that."

  "Aye, Lucas, tha' be the truth!" Angus jerked his head for emphasis.

  Flint quickly learned the truth about the battle at the tavern. After mulling it over, he decided not to get involved for the time being. Cully seemed to be keeping an eye on Augusta Hall, and Flint trusted his deputy's judgment—at least most of the time.

  Where a pretty girl was concerned, however, it might be wise not to trust Cully too much, Flint told himself.

  Luckily, Augusta didn’t spend all her time harassing the patrons of the town's saloons. She was also busily preparing for the morality play.

  Several days after the incident at Angus's, Joshua Markham was sitting at his desk, working on a sermon in his study at the parsonage when someone knocked softly on the door. He put his pen in the inkwell and called, "Come in."

  Augusta opened the door and stepped into the small, cozy study.

  "Hello, Reverend Markham," she said, smiling at him. There was a small, leather-bound book in her hands.

  "Miss Hall." Joshua nodded as he stood up. "How are you today?" Joshua noticed immediately, since she wore no cosmetics, that the bruise on her jaw was fading. Like everyone else in town, Joshua had heard about the brawl and briefly considered discussing her crusade with her, but now he decided not to raise the issue and embarrass her.

  "I'm quite fine, thank you. I was wondering if I could consult with you on a certain matter."

  "Of course." A thought occurred to Joshua. "How did you get out here? Did someone bring you from town?"

  Augusta shook her head. "I thought it would be good for me to have a means of getting around, so I rented a buggy at the livery stable."

  "That is a good idea," Joshua agreed. Then he gestured to the two plush armchairs that stood facing the fireplace at the far end of the sunlit room. "Now, have a seat and tell me what you wanted to talk to me about."

  When both of them were comfortable, Augusta handed the book to Joshua. "This is a volume of morality plays such as we discussed at the temperance meeting the other night. I thought you might look at the one I've marked and see if you think it would be suitable for our performance here in Abilene."

  Joshua took the book and opened it to the place that was marked. The play that began there was entitled Adrift and Astray; the author was someone named Florence Singleton Weems. He scanned the opening lines of the first act. He flipped through the rest of the play, pausing here and there to read a few lines. Apart from some overly dramatic passages and a tendency toward being redundant, the play seemed fine.

  "It seems perfectly suitable to me," he said a few minutes later. Closing the book, he handed it back to Augusta. "Where did you happen to find a volume of such plays around here?"

  "Well..." Augusta blushed. "I brought it with me. I thought even before I arrived that a morality play might be just the thing to wake Abilene up to the danger it faces."

  "The danger of liquor, you mean."

  "Of course. What else?"

  Joshua sighed inwardly; he sensed that now was definitely not the time to mention the uproar she had been causing. He was glad he hadn’t raised it earlier. Instead, he asked, "What else can I do to help you?"

  Augusta's pretty face brightened with enthusiasm. "If you could see your way clear to allow it, Reverend, we should like to rehearse here at the church. The performance will be held in the courthouse, but the carpenters will be busy there, building sets and painting scenery and such."

  "Carpenters?"

  "Yes, Mrs. Grantham has persuaded several of the townsmen who are good builders to assist us. And some of the merchants are donating other things we will need, such as furniture and costumes. Mrs. Grantham has even persuaded some of the townspeople to take roles in the play. Isn't it wonderful? Everything is going so well!"

  Joshua smiled. He could imagine how Mrs. Grantham was persuading the townspeople to go along with her. Browbeating was probably a better word. Mrs. Grantham had considerable influence, and she had never been shy about using it. Still Joshua supposed it was all for a good cause.

  "I don't see anything wrong with letting the actors rehearse here," he said, responding to Augusta's question. "The church isn't used much during the week. Have you set a date for the performance?"

  Augusta shook her head. "We'd like to put it on as soon as possible, but there's just so much to do." She started to reach toward him, then hesitated. Finally, she placed her hand on his arm and looked at him intently. "I'm so grateful to you, Reverend. You've been so helpful and friendly..."

  The warm touch of her fingers made Joshua's heart race. He had been surprised by her bold gesture, but he made no move to break the contact. "Your cause is certainly a good one, Miss Hall. I'm just glad I can be of some assistance." Then an idea occurred to him. "We could probably get the children here at the orphanage to help, too," he suggested. "I'm sure the older boys would be glad to help build the sets. We could have some posters printed to advertise the performance, and the younger children could take them around town and put them up."

  "What a wonderful idea!" Augusta exclaimed. She squeezed Joshua's arm and then lifted her hand. Instantly he missed the warmth of her touch. Augusta was saying, "I'm sure this play is going to make a tremendous difference."

  Joshua wasn’t so certain of that; he doubted that anything would ever wipe out drinking in the town entirely. But they did have an opportunity to do some good.

  Augusta stood up. "I'll talk to Sister Lorraine about letting the children help," she said. She gazed at the minister for a moment, and then went on, "Thank you again...Joshua."

  "You...you're quite welcome, Augusta." Joshua swallowed. Her name came so easily to his lips, the sound of it beautiful to his ears—just as beautiful as she was.

  For several minutes after she left his study, Joshua tried to work on the sermon. Finally, he had to give up. Regardless of the words he tried to scratch onto the paper, all he could really see was the lovely face of Augusta Hall.

  As Joshua had predicted, the children from the orphanage were more than happy to pitch in. Each afternoon after school, the older boys went to the courthouse to work with the carpenters building the sets. Some of the younger children ran errands or helped Augusta gather the smaller props. Alice Hammond, the pretty redhead who was the oldest of the group, quickly made friends with Augusta and volunteered to help her make copies of the play so that all the actors could have scripts. Augusta was only a few years older than Alice, and the two young women chatted happily as they sat with pen and paper and printed the lines.

  The result of all this preparation was a pleasant frenzy. Augusta was at the church every day, sometimes for long hours, and not a day went by that Joshua didn’t see her and talk to her.

  On one of those days, Joshua was sitting in a pew at the back of the simple, white chapel, watching Augusta and a few of the actors rehearse their lines, when he heard a rustling sound moving up the aisle next to him. Alice Hammond, followed by her younger brother Patrick, had slipped into the room. Joshua couldn’t help smiling at the pair. Patrick's hair was as red as his sister's, and his impish face was sprinkled with a mass of freckles. His intelligent eyes usually danced with some mischief he was about to commit. Joshua had never known a lad who could get into trouble as easily as Patrick, but he also knew that the boy had a good heart.

  Now, as Patrick traipsed up the aisle after Alice, he suddenly dropped to his knees, lifted his arms penitently, and cried, "No! Please don't hit me again!"

  Alice stopped in her tracks and spun around. "Patrick...! What are you doing, for goodness' sake?"

  "Please don't beat me, Father!" Patrick wailed. "I promise I'll never spill your rum again, if only you won't hurt me or...or Mother." The youngster doubled over, his shoulders hunched, and sobs seemed to wrack his body as his voice trailed off.

 
; "Patrick, get up!" Alice hissed, casting a glance over her shoulder at Augusta and the others, who were watching with great interest. "I don't know what's gotten into you! Those are lines from the... Oh!"

  Joshua stood up and clapped, applauding the performance he had just witnessed. "Bravo, Patrick!" he called. Then he glanced at Augusta as he went down the aisle toward the front of the church. "That is what the audience says at a play, isn't it, Miss Hall?"

  "When it's good they do, Reverend," she agreed. Turning to Patrick, she went on, "And that was a good performance, Patrick. I see that you've been reading the play your sister and I copied."

  Patrick straightened and leaped to his feet, a broad grin on his freckled face. Clearly the praise he was receiving for his acting talent—which he had never revealed until now—thrilled him.

  Well, at least Patrick had never acted in the usual sense of the word, Joshua mused with a smile. He had known Patrick to give some fine performances and spin some highly unlikely yarns when he had been caught doing things that he shouldn’t have been doing.

  Now the youngster hurried up to Augusta and said, "I know there's a part in the play for a boy about my age, Miss Hall. Do you think I could play it?"

  "I don't see why not, Patrick," Augusta replied. "But to be fair, we really ought to see if anyone else here at the orphanage would like to try out for the role."

  "There's nobody," Patrick said confidently. "All the rest of the fellas think that this acting is sissy stuff." He shrugged. "I don't know, maybe they're right. But it seems like fun to me to get up on a stage and run around and yell and pretend you're somebody else. So, do I get to be in the play?"

  Augusta laughed. "I don't see why not—as long as it's all right with Sister Lorraine."

  "Oh, it is. You can ask her yourself."

  "I intend to," Augusta assured him. "Are you sure you're up to memorizing all the lines that little Ferdinand has in the play?"