By Starlight

by Dorothy Garlock

  “Don’t lie to me none,” Sumner threatened, his breath hot and sour. “I saw you with my own two eyes! I don’t know where you went when me’n Jeffers was lookin’ for ya, hidin’ like the coward you is, but I know you was there! If you’d a shown your face a second longer, I’d a put a bullet right ’tween your eyes!”

  “You did see me today,” Jack said, making Sumner straighten up at the admission, “but it was when you and Jeffers drove past me near the Belvedere.” Now that he’d knocked the man off-guard, Jack decided to try to keep him that way. “What were you hauling in that big truck, anyway? Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been small. Or were you picking something up?”

  “And what’s all this nonsense ’bout shootin’ a gun?” Clayton interjected. “I reckon he musta been drinkin’ too much of what’s bein’ sold in here. That’s ’bout the only way I figure he coulda come up with such a cockamamie story like that.”

  “Look, I understand you’re still mad about what happened in the alley,” Jack added. “Let me buy you a drink and we can let bygones be—”

  Before he could say another word, Sumner attacked, either unwilling or unable to hold his fury back any longer. Though he’d anticipated such a thing happening, Jack was surprised by the speed with which his foe struck, and a glancing punch landed against his jaw, dazing him with pain.

  “I knew you was trouble from the moment I laid eyes on ya!” Sumner snarled, his fists raised, the sinewy muscles of his arms tight. “I told Jeffers you was no good, that you was gonna have to be dealt with, so now that’s exactly what I’m gonna do!”

  Jack had never understood why, at the beginning of a fight, men suddenly started talking. By ranting and raving, Sumner had given up his advantage, allowing his opponent a moment’s respite to find his footing and chase the cobwebs from his head. Now it was up to Jack to make use of the gift he’d been given.

  “I guess I’ll just have to show you how much trouble I can be,” Jack replied.

  Fast as a bolt of lightning, Jack’s fist shot out and hit Sumner flush against his already-broken nose, snapping his head back, causing his eyes to water, and forcing a yelp of pain to jump out of his mouth. Jack followed up with a hook to the ribs, driving the air from Sumner’s lungs and sending him scrambling backward, surprise and pain written across his face.

  An audible gasp rose from the crowd around them; Jack didn’t dare risk a look, but he imagined every face in the speakeasy was turned in their direction. Snippets of conversation drifted across the cellar.

  “…can’t believe it!”

  “I ain’t gettin’ involved with all that!”

  “Jack better be careful!”

  That last comment caused a smile to curl at the corners of Jack’s mouth. Everyone in the bar, heck, everyone in Colton, would’ve been surprised to know how many fights Jack had been in. Before he’d left town seven years earlier, he would’ve been far more likely to try to talk his way out of trouble than use his fists. But one of the lessons he’d quickly learned during his time with the Bureau was that, on occasion, there was no choice but to fight.

  This was one of those times.

  In coming to the speakeasy, his intention had been to learn more about what Jeffers had done with the illegal liquor he’d loaded, not to get into a brawl. But he’d underestimated Sumner’s hatred for him. He’d knocked the bootlegger unconscious once already; he’d have to do it again.

  “You’re gonna pay for that, you son of a bitch,” Sumner groaned.

  “You’re welcome to try.”

  Once again, Sumner came at Jack swinging, but this time there was nothing unexpected about it and it was easy to sidestep the blow. The young man’s fist hit nothing but air. Now with Sumner unable to defend himself, it was easy for Jack to land another heavy blow to his midsection; immediately his face twisted into a grotesque mask of agony as he was driven off his feet. Sumner landed on the floor in a heap of arms and legs, knocking over a couple of chairs and nearly upending a table, forcing people to scatter out of the way.

  “You done bit off more’n you could chew,” Clayton said to Sumner, rubbing salt in the wounds of his defeat.

  Sumner looked as if he wanted to get up and continue the fight or, at the least, say something to defend his wounded pride, but he remained still and silent. Jack felt no pity for the boy, after all, he’d started their fight, but he felt no sense of victory, either; that wouldn’t happen until Sumner and Jeffers were behind bars where they belonged.

  “Now how ’bout that drink?” Clayton asked.

  “I suppose I’ve earned—”

  Jack never saw the blow coming. He was struck on the side of the head with enough force to lift him off his feet, just as Sumner had been, and send him hurtling through the air. Pain grabbed him so hard that he wasn’t really aware of landing on the cellar floor and only faintly heard the shattering of glasses and the panicked scraping of chair legs trying to get out of his way. Blackness filled the edges of his vision, threatening to overwhelm him and drag him down into its inky depths. The side of his face was hot and numb, all at the same time. He struggled to remain conscious

  “What…what’s…,” he mumbled.

  Before Jack could do anything else, a hand grabbed a fistful of his shirt and lifted him from the floor. He hung there like a child, unable to do anything to defend himself.

  “What in the hell’re you doin’, Rucker?” a voice bellowed.

  Even if he hadn’t been able to see through the haze clouding his eyes, Jack would have known who it was immediately.

  Jeffers.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  MADDY GASPED as Jeffers stepped from the darkened shadows at the rear of the cellar and punched Jack in the face. Only seconds before, she’d marveled at the beating being given to Sumner, but now, as she watched the man she loved awkwardly crash to the floor, sending chairs and people scattering in every direction, fear clutched tightly at her heart. It was as if Jeffers had simply appeared out of nowhere; everyone in the speakeasy had been fixated on the fight. Now, as Jack’s almost unconscious body was effortlessly lifted from the floor, no one moved a muscle.

  Except for Maddy.

  For the second time since Jack had returned to Colton, Maddy found herself running across the speakeasy. But unlike that first night when she’d been desperate to escape but unsure of where to go, this time she had no such confusion; regardless of the danger, she’d make it to Jack’s side and keep him safe, no matter what. Even as Jeffers bellowed a threat, his deep voice rumbling across the smoky cellar, making everyone near him cringe with fright, Maddy wasn’t afraid.

  I won’t let him be hurt.

  “You think you’re gonna come in here causin’ trouble?” Jeffers ranted. “No one fights in my place! No one!”

  “It’s my place, too.”

  Jeffers’s head snapped around quickly at the sound of Maddy’s voice. She immediately worried he was about to attack her, too, his eyes narrow and full of rage, like a bull pawing a hoof against the ground, readying to charge. Even with her thundering heart and knees that threatened to quiver, Maddy refused to back down or show weakness; a man like Jeffers would devour her if she did. Instead, they stared at each other, the silence of the speakeasy deafening.

  “This ain’t your problem, Maddy,” Jeffers finally warned.

  “You made it mine when you attacked Jack.”

  “He went at Sumner.”

  “Who everyone in here will tell you started the whole thing.”

  “I ain’t in the mood to be disagreed with.”

  “Neither am I. Put him down,” Maddy demanded.

  The glare Jeffers gave her was nearly as unsettling as the feeling of his hand on her breast. Maddy knew that there weren’t many people who’d ever spoken to him in such a way and walked away unscathed. Everyone in town knew Jeffers wasn’t a man to mess with; even Clayton looked taken aback by her boldness. But to protect Jack there was no risk she wasn’t willing to take.

 
; “I said, put him down,” she repeated forcefully.

  Maddy expected Jeffers to argue with her, to spit curse words and threaten her with all sorts of terrible things, but the thin smile that spread across his face was far more frightening. He did as he was told and lowered Jack gently to the floor, letting go of his shirt and stepping back; Maddy was surprised that he hadn’t dropped Jack down with a thud.

  Without another word, Maddy hurried over and knelt down by Jack’s side. Already his face had begun to swell and bruise. Looking up at her with dazed eyes, he looked disoriented, as if he were lost in the woods. Absently, his hands tried in vain to push himself up off the floor.

  “Don’t try to move,” she told him. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  “But I…I…I have to…”

  “You don’t have to do anything but let me take care of you.”

  Maddy didn’t know if Jack understood what she was telling him, but he nodded and stopped moving. As she brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, her heart swelled at being able to save him from whatever punishment Jeffers had been hell-bent on dishing out. Remembering Seth’s words of encouragement, Maddy was more determined than ever to stand up for the love she again felt blossoming between her and Jack. Gently, she slipped her hand in his and smiled when he gave it a light squeeze.

  “Listen up!” Jeffers suddenly shouted. “It’s time for everybody to get the hell out! Bar’s closed for the night!”

  Even after Maddy had successfully stood up to him, there were only a few grumblings to Jeffers’s demand.

  “…just got here…”

  “But I haven’t finished my drink yet…”

  “…the fuss if the fight’s over?”

  Jeffers snarled as he roughly yanked Sumner back to his feet; from the bared-teeth grimace on the younger man’s face and the hand that never left his ribs it was obvious he was still in a lot of pain. “Any of you here when Utley came through know I ain’t gonna take no chances,” Jeffers snapped, meaning that if the sheriff got wind of there being a fight there was a chance the whole operation could be shut down. “We’ll be open again tomorrow.”

  Slowly but steadily, people began making their way toward the cellar door. As they passed, Maddy looked up into faces that showed a mix of both admiration and concern for what she’d done. She knew their worries were well-founded; the last thing she wanted was to be left behind with an irate Jeffers and Sumner.

  Hoping to slowly clear the cobwebs from Jack’s addled head, Maddy placed her hand on his chest and leaned down close.

  “We need to get out of here,” she whispered.

  Jack made no answer, his head turned to the side.

  Worrying that he’d finally succumbed to the pain of Jeffers’s punch and slipped into unconsciousness, she shook him gently. “Jack,” she said more urgently, “You have to wake up!”

  “I’m…I’m fine, Maddy…,” he replied in a voice stronger than she would have expected.

  It was then that she realized Jack’s eyes were open and that instead of resting, he was looking at something. Following his gaze, Maddy peered through the mess of people still filing out of the speakeasy and into the dark gloom at the back of the cellar. There she could faintly make out the open door of the storeroom and glimpsed the mess of boxes and crates that filled it. Usually, Jeffers kept that door locked, telling Maddy that it was to protect the small amount of liquor he’d set aside to sell; he must’ve been inside when he heard the commotion of Jack and Sumner’s fight and forgotten to close the door when he left. Now, she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been lying to her; even if the room held most of the mercantile’s overstock prior to the opening of the speakeasy, there shouldn’t have been that much.

  “Help me get to my feet,” Jack asked of her.

  Grabbing him by the elbow, Maddy tried to lift him, but she wasn’t strong enough, especially since he wasn’t yet steady enough to help. But even as she wondered how she was going to get Jack out of the speakeasy, Clayton Newmar bent down and hooked his arm beneath one of Jack’s.

  “C’mon now, pardner,” Clayton said.

  “I’ll get the other,” Seth Pettigrew announced, having been reluctantly forced off of his beloved barstool.

  Once Jack was upright, still as shaky on his feet as a newborn calf, the bruising on his face growing darker with every passing second, he looked at each of them in turn and gave his thanks.

  “Like I done told you earlier, bein’ in this here tavern with you is a guarantee of seein’ some entertainment,” Clayton answered with a booming laugh. “If the only price I gots to pay for it is helpin’ you up a flight a stairs, well, that seems more’n fair, you ask me.”

  “Since you were kind enough to help me home the other evening after I’d had too much to drink, reluctant though I am to admit it,” Seth explained, “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I didn’t return the favor.”

  Maddy couldn’t contain her smile. With help from Clayton and Seth, she’d be able to get Jack out of the cellar and home safely. Now all they had to do was make their way past Jeffers and Sumner.

  “Let’s go,” she said, joining the last of the speakeasy’s patrons as they headed toward the door.

  “Where’n the hell do you think you’re goin’?” Jeffers snarled as they approached. Sumner had fallen into his usual chair by the door but didn’t look up; it was clear from his pained expression that he’d gotten the worst of the brawl.

  “You said it yourself,” Maddy answered. “We’re closed.”

  “I wasn’t talkin’ ’bout you.”

  “She’s…coming with us…,” Jack said valiantly.

  “I’d a thought you’d took enough of a beatin’ to keep you from mouthin’ off.”

  “It takes a tough man…to strike someone…when he isn’t looking…”

  Jeffers sneered. “Next time, I’ll let you know I’m comin’.” Turning back to Maddy, he added, “There’s things we gotta talk ’bout.”

  “We can talk about them tomorrow,” she replied.

  “We’ll talk now,” he growled.

  Standing up as straight as she could, steeling herself, as well as remembering that there were three men standing behind her, Maddy moved a step closer to Jeffers. “Whether you like it or not, I’m taking Jack home, right now,” she explained, her voice firm, her eyes never leaving those of the much larger man. “But you’re right, with everything that’s happened tonight, there are plenty of things we need to talk about, but they’re going to have to wait. Understand?”

  Jeffers’s only answer was the deepening of his scowl.

  With that, Clayton and Seth led Jack over to the cellar door and began to slowly help him up the steps. Maddy followed along behind, but just as she thought she was going to get away without any problems Jeffers’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm, squeezing it like a vice.

  He moved up close behind her, his weight pressing lightly against her back, his breath rustling her hair as he leaned down close. “You had better start rememberin’ who it is you’re talkin’ back to,” he threatened. “The last skirt who stood up to me ain’t never stood right ’gain, understand?” he added with an agonizingly painful squeeze of her arm before he released it.

  Even though she’d been set free, Maddy stood still for a moment longer; she couldn’t have said if it was out of defiance or fear. Finally, without a word or another look back, she went up the stairs and out into the dark night.

  “Land sakes! What happened to him?”

  Virginia Benoit clutched her nightdress to her chest as she rushed out from behind the front desk of the Belvedere and helped Clayton and Seth steer a still-dazed Jack across the lobby and down the hallway toward the room. Maddy hurried to keep up with them, all of their shadows dancing wildly across the faded wallpaper and closed doors. To her surprise, even at the late hour there’d been a light on in the back room when they’d opened the front door; Maddy wondered whether Mrs. Benoit had been awake in order to tend
to Jack’s mysterious partner, the man Dr. Quayle had told her father about.

  “He run ’foul a Jeffers, is what happened,” Clayton explained.

  “Why on earth would he tangle with him?”

  “I’m afraid he didn’t have much choice in the matter,” Seth answered. “The dear boy never saw it coming.”

  “Up till then, he’d handled himself perty good,” Clayton added.

  Looking over her shoulder, Virginia asked, “I take it he was over in the mercantile’s cellar?”

  Maddy nodded; there was something in the older woman’s tone and the expression on her face that made her feel as if she was being held accountable for Jack’s condition, which, in a way, she was.

  Halfway down the hall, Mrs. Benoit threw open a door and led them all inside before hurrying over to the nightstand and turning on a lamp. When Maddy entered, she was surprised by how clean and orderly it was; if it weren’t for the closed suitcase slid between the dresser and a rickety old chair beside the window, she would have wondered whether anyone was even staying there.

  Clayton and Seth put Jack on the bed as gently as they could, though he still groaned when his head came to rest on the mattress.

  “Should I go fetch Doc Quayle?” Virginia asked.

  “It’s…it’s not that bad…,” Jack struggled to answer; ever since they managed to get him out of the speakeasy, he’d had moments of clarity, talking and making light of what had happened, but others when he could only moan an occasional word or two. “I…I just need some rest…”

  “Sounds to me like you ain’t in much shape to be offerin’ an opinion.”

  “I’ve seen fellas take a hell of a lot harder knocks’n the one he got and be all fine come mornin’.” Clayton shrugged. “What he needs is a good night’s sleep.”

  “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious,” Seth offered.

  “Won’t Dr. Quayle be coming by tonight to check on Jack’s partner?” Maddy asked; Clayton and Seth both looked at her with expressions of confusion, but Mrs. Benoit’s face was full of surprise. “Mr. Hoover, is it?”