'I know what happened to McLaren's house too. I know you'd be interested in finding out who was responsible for it. That's why I want you to work for me.'
A job offer instead of a jail cell. He starts to shake his head.
'What I mean to say is that I know,' the sheriff looks up and stares into Logan's eyes, 'I know that you'd be interested, not so much in who actually did these things, but interested in who was responsible for them. Do you follow me?'
A sprat to catch a mackerel. Nice ploy. He will play along, promise to help find out what he can and then vanish from the town before they realize.
'Here's your badge.' The sheriff tosses a small shiny star across to him. 'To start with I expect you'll need some help so I've asked Wilson here to work with you for a bit.'
One of the deputies that had collected him from the saloon steps into the room. He is dressed head to toe in black, his spurs clinking, a long barreled revolver slapping against his leg. Clearly he was listening at the door the whole time.
'He'll be your shadow for now. Keep you out of mischief.'
Keep me in Walkers Creek, he thinks. So that makes things a lot more complicated. If he wants to get out of town he'll need to give this Wilson the slip. And the only reason he might want to stay in town, collecting the money, is also going to be out of the question unless he finds some other way to detain the deputy.
CHAPTER TEN
Emily sets her feet and takes careful aim with the little derringer. She pulls the trigger and the gun roars and spews a cloud of smoke. The bottle stays intact. Again.
She doesn't like the idea of being watched by the sheriff's deputies. She senses they are there all the while but that could just be her imagination. She hadn't sensed their presence before the encounter on the road. Now she continually feels there is someone watching her.
She reloads the gun.
'Are you okay Miss?' The gunfire has attracted the attention of one of her cowboys who was tending to the horses in the corral.
'I'm fine thanks Louis. Just a little bit of target practice.'
'Do you want me to help? To set the targets back up for you when you hit them?'
She laughs emptily. 'That's very kind of you, but I don't think that will be necessary.' Not necessary because she can't hit the targets, even from this embarrassingly short distance.
The lad turns to leave and she fires again, knocking down a tin from the low wall where she has arrayed tins and bottles as targets. Louis applauds her success as he heads back to the corral. Nice shot. What a shame she was aiming for a bottle at the other end of the wall. This little gun is next to useless. Unless she has it pressed up against someone's guts she's more likely to miss than to hit.
She tucks the derringer into its holster and pulls out her father's old pistol instead. It is a prettier gun, but also a much heavier gun with a longer barrel. It should be much more accurate.
'Be careful with that.' Her father would have said.
'It's okay father, I know what I'm doing.'
'Really? You seem to have forgotten everything I taught you. Didn't I show you how to hold it in two hands so you could steady the weight better?'
She pulls the trigger and a puff of dust kicks up in front of the wall.
'You're jerking at the trigger. Squeeze it.'
'Yes father, I remember.'
'If you can't even hit a bottle with it from this distance then you shouldn't really be carrying it at all. Maybe I should have given both of them to your brother. You won't live long shooting at people and missing. You'll do better not to shoot at all.'
She fires again. The bullet ricochets off the top of the wall.
'Your brother would have hit that bottle by now.'
That was it wasn't it. She knew her father always wanted her to have been a boy. So here she was, doing her best to be a boy. Running the family ranch, shooting guns, riding horses, using everything at her disposal to protect what he had left her.
'You should come clean about the McLaren house. They know it was you. They have a witness, you heard that. If it was me -- well I wouldn't have messed it up in the first place, but if it was me --'
'No, father you wouldn't have messed it up would you. You'd have got your infallible sidekick Sanchez to do it for you. Just like I did.'
'I wouldn't have messed it up because I wouldn't have done it in the first place kid. Stop pretending to yourself that you're doing things the way I would have. You're just lashing out like a frightened animal.'
'You wouldn't have let people tell you what to do on your own ranch.'
'True, but then nobody dared to. It's because you're a girl on your own. Your brother --'
She fires the remaining bullets in the pistol wildly and angrily trying to drown out the voice in her head. When the smoke clears the bottles and tins all still stand where she placed them. The big pistol might look impressive but to her it is no more use than the inaccurate little derringer. She stomps back to the house. The pistols might be no use, but she has a rifle.
As she passes through the ranch house to fetch the rifle she pauses by the door where Billy is recuperating. Laura is tending to him again. Neither of them notice her watching from the door.
Billy coughs and winces at the pain.
'Any blood?' Laura asks, kneeling beside the bed.
Billy shakes his head, still grimacing at the discomfort.
'That's getting better then. If you can sit up you won't cough as much.'
'Okay.' He says through gritted teeth. He pushes futilely at the sheets but hasn't the strength to raise himself.
'Let me help you.' Laura reaches behind him to adjust the pillows then, wrapping her arms round him, raises him to a sitting position. Emily, is impressed with her strength, and with the tenderness that she uses to care for the injured boy. She continues to watch, transfixed by the little scene and not a little jealous of the intimacy that the two of them seem to share.
It is going to be long time before Billy will be out riding the ranch again. He does seem to be recovering, she has that consolation. She was convinced that night she had brought him home that he was dying. That danger has passed. Now, of course, there is the new danger that someone will find out that it was Billy that killed the deputy and he'll hang for it. She is determined she won't allow it, but maybe her determination counts for nothing when she can't hit a barn door with a bullet.
Billy coughs again. Laura wipes the spittle from his chin but he takes the cloth from her. He dabs at her nose with it playfully. She laughs.
'Do you want me to make you some soup.'
'I think I've had about as much soup as I can take without springing another leak.'
'You know I can't stay in here with you all day. I have other jobs to do too.'
'Miss Nixon won't mind if you stay a little longer.'
'She won't mind if I stay in here all day, but she'll still expect that other stuff to get done. You wouldn't want to get me in trouble would you?'
'Has she said anything, any news about the deputy? She won't tell me anything.'
'Miss Emily doesn't say much about anything at the moment, I think she's got a lot on her mind. But don't you worry about no deputy. You're safe all the while you're here. Ain't no deputy going to get you in here.'
Emily winces at the thought that there are deputies watching the house right now, and all the time. Any sense of safety here is just an illusion.
'Ain't no deputy ever going to get me. I plan to get well clear of this place when I'm better. Maybe you'll come with me.'
'Maybe I will.' She reaches over and kisses him tenderly on the cheek.
Emily slips away from the doorway before she is noticed and fetches the rifle.
She wishes Billy didn't feel that he needs to escape the ranch and Walkers Creek, but she understands. The little blossoming romance between him and his nurse brings a smile to her face. She longs for that sort of closeness with someone. Ever since Humby expressed his intention to marry her in order
to get control of the ranch she has been treated with cold mistrust by every possible suitor in town. Logan Tanner is different, which is odd when he seems to be working for Humby already. Perhaps she just likes him because he is one of the few who seem genuinely oblivious to Humby's money and influence.
It's foolish to think too much about him, she chides herself and returns to her target practice. Leveling the rifle at the targets on the wall she feels much more comfortable and confident. When she squeezes the trigger the rifle bucks reassuringly against her shoulder and the bottle on the wall disappears. So much more satisfying than the ineffectual noise and fury of the pistols. The rifle is the weapon for her.
Something causes her to turn around and she notices a little puff of dust in the distance on the road to the ranch. Someone is riding in from Walkers Creek. Her heart skips a little imagining that it might be Logan. Then she remembers that it is more likely Sanchez returning from his grisly errand.
As the rider approaches she sees that it is neither. She reloads the rifle.
'You're not welcome here Frank. Go home.' She calls out as soon as he is in earshot.
He ignores her and rides up, stopping his horse only a few feet away.
'Howdy Miss.'
'Go home Frank. You've already made a fool of yourself once this week.'
'Oh yes, but thanks to your new friend I never got to say my piece. Well, he ain't going to stop me saying nothing now. I saw them taking him to the jailhouse myself this morning. What d'you think of that?'
'I think you talk a lot of nonsense. I've no time for your remarks. I thought I'd made that clear enough.'
'Oh yes, your bullet went clear enough through my foot, it did. Don't you think for a minute that's a rum way to treat someone who works for you?'
'You spoke enough words out of turn to make it clear you wouldn't understand any other answer than a bullet.'
'I didn't say nothing that nobody else wasn't already thinking. And I still think it. That's a mighty fine behind you have young lady and I wouldn't mind you using it to help me forget my troubles for a few minutes.'
Her eyes narrow and she raises the rifle up to point at him. 'Don't make me put a hole in the other foot you disgusting piece of dirt. Why, you look like you haven't washed in a month.'
'You're going to put me in the bath now are you?' He licks his dirty cracked lips provocatively.
The rifle's safety catch snicks off. He hears it.
'Now look here, you goaded me into saying them things. That's not why I came here. I ain't got no money you see. I can't work with this foot, how am I supposed to get money? I reckon you owe me.'
'Get off my land.' She says calmly.
'I haven't got anything. I lost my last dime this morning. I mean, I spent it, on breakfast. When am I going to eat next?'
'Get off my land, or I'll put a hole in the other foot.'
'You wouldn't dare, and anyway what difference would it make?'
'Don't try your luck.' A voice came from the shadow of a tree by the corral. It was Louis. 'I've been watching her practising with that thing. If she aims for your foot she'll probably hit you in the head. And if she even thinks of firing a warning shot you'll most likely fetch up with lead in your stomach. Have you ever seen someone die from a gut-shot? It's not nice and it takes a long, long time.'
Frank is taken aback, clearly he hadn't seen Louis watching their exchange. He sits up and takes the reins.
'If you're not going to give me no money then I sure as hell still need some. I'll take it if I have to. You'll see me again. Maybe then you won't have all your guns and people looking after you and then we'll see. We'll see alright.' With that he gives the horse a kick and turns it round and gallops hard away back up the road he'd come on.
Louis puts his gun back in its holster.
'Thanks Louis.' She says.
'No problem. I remember the incident with his foot. I always wondered if you'd intended to miss.'
'I don't regret it.'
'I know, it's tough asserting your authority when you don't have the muscle to take them on in a brawl, but we do think Frank has a point.'
'We?'
'The team. We talk about it and such. Frank's a boor and a gambler but he's in trouble if he can't earn money in an honest way. You have to see that. If you could do something to help him I think it would go down well.'
'It's a tough world out there Louis and I'm not going to nursemaid anyone, least of all someone who insulted me the way he did. If you feel so strongly, why did you come out to chase him away?'
'I was saving him from himself, and from another bullet from you. I don't want him coming round here shooting his mouth off any more than you do. We shouldn't have to put up with that, but there has to be a way to see him right without hurting your pride, or his. Have a think on it Miss.'
With that, Louis turns and walks back towards the corral.
Emily fires another shot from the rifle at her targets, not caring that Louis is nearby. A tin somersaults off the wall. Louis doesn't flinch.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
'So now we're partners.' He says cheerfully.
Wilson grunts and hands him the reins of the horse. It isn't Logan's horse. The sheriff has provided him with one 'for the purpose of being a deputy.' He presumes the idea of giving him an unfamiliar horse is to make it harder for him to get away. It comes with a particularly uncomfortable saddle.
He has decided to make the best of things for the moment. He came to Walkers Creek to make money and the McLaren job seemed like the quick and easy way to do that. That mostly worked out. He has half the money and if he can get hold of the rest of the money he's going to have enough to get clear to San Francisco. Of course, now that Wilson is tethered to him, getting the money is going to be almost impossible, but the sheriff has sweetened the pill a little by actually paying him for this little charade. It's not like him to seek out a regular paying job, but maybe this will all work out after all.
'Don't just stand around there, we've got work to do.'
'Okay pardner.'
'Don't call me that.' He spits a stream of tobacco juice at Logan's boots. 'The name's Wilson.'
'Okay pardner.' He says stubbornly. No harm in annoying the gaoler. Ultimately he's going to need to give Wilson the slip. If Wilson finds him irritating he might give him enough space to escape.
'You're going to be spending a lot of the day on your own with me, Tanner. There are lot of narrow ravines out there where you'd never be found. It's best you don't plant the idea in my head of killing you and leaving you in one of them.'
Maybe he's overplaying the irritation. He smiles, trying to look a bit more agreeable.
'Mr. Humby will be waiting. Get on with it.'
'Humby?' he asks, trying to get comfortable on the saddle.
'We're riding escort for him today.'
'To the mine?'
'To his girl.'
The mayor's girl? That's bringing mixed feelings. He likes the idea of seeing her again. Actually he's even excited by the idea of seeing her again. He enjoyed seeing her earlier by the creek, but back then he'd told her that she was mistaken and that he didn't work for Humby after all. Back then he didn't know she was sweet on Humby. Now he'll be arriving as Humby's escort. That could prove rather uncomfortable.
Humby is waiting for them at the stable, his huge horse saddled up ready. He probably chose the horse because of its size, thinking it conveyed more status. He looks down on the two deputies when he finally climbs into the saddle but the horse doesn't look likely to be quick.
'Tanner, you stick with the Mayor. I'm going to ride a little way behind and keep a lookout.' Wilson says once they are out on the road.
Humby looks him up and down.
'You're the one who fought Frank Lake aren't you?'
'Not sure you'd actually call it a fight. The punches were a bit one-sided.'
'I see. Well, nice to know my escort can handle himself.'
He is baffled. He'
d just assumed that the sheriff and the Mayor had concocted this between them, that they both knew that he had bombed the McLaren house and were trying to get him to give something away, but somehow Humby seems to be acting as though he was just another new deputy.
'What do you think of Miss Nixon?' Humby asks.
He isn't sure how to answer that.
'I hadn't realized that you and her...' He says eventually.
'Really, I thought everyone knew. I hope that doesn't mean you're my competition. You should know that no good comes to men who stand in my way.' Humby laughs to indicate that he meant it as a joke, but the laugh has some venom in it.
'I'll keep out of your way today,' he says. Does he really mean it? Probably not, if the opportunity arises to win her from the mustachioed mayor then he'll almost certainly take it.
Wilson kicks his horse into a gallop and catches them up again as they take the fork off toward the ranch.
'I'll check on ahead and make sure there's no trouble at the ranch,' he says quickly, before galloping on up the road.
Humby's horse doesn't look capable of a gallop and it continues to plod along the road at a steady pace.
'Anyone would think he was expecting trouble,' Logan says.
Humby says nothing.
Trouble wouldn't be completely unwelcome. If there's trouble he'll be perfectly justified in running away. Turning his horse and riding for the hills. It might create the very chance of escape he hopes for. Of course he'd miss the chance to see Emily, but he was always planning on leaving town without her.
The ranch is calm as they ride up. Wilson has dismounted and is tying his horse to the hitching post. Emily Nixon is stood in the road to greet them with a rifle tucked under her arm.
'Hello my darling,' says Humby.
She ignores Humby's greeting and stands her ground watching them ride up. Logan realizes that she's looking at him rather than at Humby.
'You disappoint me Mr. Tanner. I thought you were an honest man,' She says.
She looks disappointed. Hardly surprising after their conversation this morning. It would have been so much simpler if he hadn't said anything. He can't think of a good way to explain so decides to feign confusion.
Walkers Creek - A Western Page 6