Miss Thorne Blossoms

by Jordan Bollinger

  Once they'd moved on, Lynn whispered, "We're lucky. It looks like he's been drinking his own tea. If we can just get Kathy and then to the door, we'll be all right."

  "Lynn, I'm not sure if we should risk getting Kathy. If we are able to get out, we'll be able to send in the sheriff and his men back for her."

  "Please, miss. I know it makes things harder, but I've lost two sisters and she's lost one. We can't lose each other. Please."

  Colleen looked at the poor child, and knew she couldn't justify leaving the other girl behind. "All right. We'll do our best."

  "Oh thank you, miss."

  "Am I right in thinking that we only need to get past the woman now?"

  "I think so, miss. Sir and the dog went downstairs and out the front door—I think."

  "All right. You go ahead and find Kathy and get her to the door. I'm going to go after the woman."

  "But please be careful, miss. She's a mean one."

  Lynn slipped down the hallway. Once she reached a door, she rapped on it lightly, and without waiting for a response, opened it. "Kathy," she said in a soft voice, "Sir wants to see you."

  "She ain't done yet," a male voice called out.

  "You'll have to take that up with Sir, mister. I have to do what I'm told," the unseen girl said, as she darted from the room. "We both do. But, I'm sure she'll be right back."

  A sudden thought occurred to Colleen, and she plucked the key from her pocket, and locked the man inside.

  Lynn grabbed the girl's arm and mouthed, "Come on. We're leaving." Then she gestured towards the last door. "That's where Miss is."

  Colleen was reaching for the doorknob, when Kathy warned, "She's not alone." Nodding, she waved them to get out, and took hold of the doorknob. As she was about to lock that door, as well, it was jerked open and a man stumbled out.

  "Well, lookie here! Where have you been hiding?"

  "Who are you talking to?" a woman's voice asked, from inside the room. Before Colleen was able to either bolt, or shove the man back inside and lock them in, the door swung completely open, and an older, disheveled woman, wearing only a corset and drawers, peered out at her.

  "Who the hell are you? And, where the devil did you come from?"

  Without missing a beat, Colleen dropped into a little curtsey and answered, "Sir sent me to watch you. He said I should learn from only the best."

  "Really," Belle said, a peculiar expression growing over her face. "Well, come on in...and I'll show you..." Then she caught sight of the two girls approaching the outer door.

  In one incredibly swift move, she shoved the man back into the room and slammed the door—trapping him in, pulled out her knife, and caught hold of the quilted collar of Colleen's robe.

  "Not so fast! No one move!" Then, yanking Colleen off the floor, she said, "You—talk!"

  Colleen saw the two girls' faces go white. "I told you, I'm Colleen. Sir just hired me."

  Belle stared straight through her in silence for a moment, and then said, "No you aren't. At least, Brent never 'hired' you. You're that poker dealer Brumbell was going on about." Then she looked around, and asked, "Where is he? For that matter, where the hell is Brent?"

  "Ah..." Colleen said, "I'm not sure. Someone was knocking on the door downstairs though. Maybe he's been called out."

  "Maybe...maybe not," Belle said. "The thing is, I don't like it when I don't know what's going on. So, we're going to all stay just where we are until Brent gets back."

  "But Miss, I think he wanted me to—" Colleen went quiet as she felt Belle's knife prick her side. She swallowed hard, and whispered, "Please, Miss, I didn't do anything."

  "And, I'm going to make sure it stays that way." She looked at the girls and said, "Back away from that door, both of you."

  Neither girl budged. So, Belle repeated, "Back away from that door! Now!"

  Kathy looked as though she was going to move, but Lynn grabbed hold of her arm, and stayed still.

  "Don't make me say it again, girls. You know how I can get, if I get riled. Now, move away from that door!"

  However, Lynn flushed, dug her heels in, and shouted, "No!"

  For a moment, Colleen thought Belle was going to have an apoplectic fit. While Lynn's face had gone from milk white to scarlet, Belle's was now almost purple. The problem was she hadn't loosened her grip on either Colleen or the knife.

  Colleen was trying to move her hand to her pocket where the gun was without drawing attention to herself. That was, until Belle shoved her knife even further into the younger girl's ribs.

  She could feel a dribble of blood trickling down her side and she was filled with terror. Not only for herself, but for the two girls who would also be severely punished—perhaps even killed.

  "Let her go!" Lynn cried out. "Let her go, or I'll shoot you!"

  "With what?" Belle sneered. She looked at Lynn, who now held the derringer out, ready to shoot. Belle saw it and laughed, before she said, "You can't possibly believe I'm afraid of that little pea shooter?" But, in that split second, she relaxed her hold on Colleen. At least, enough for her to make a move of her own.

  The younger woman shoved Belle away and pulled out her own derringer. Colleen didn't know if Belle saw it or not, because the older woman was so furious that one of the girls would defy her, she had lost her focus. And, even with two guns—albeit small guns—pointing at her, she was unrelenting. She took a step towards Colleen, and Lynn shot her—twice. The bullets struck her on her face, sinking into the flesh of her cheek. She cried out in pain, but, she wasn't down yet.

  So Colleen fired at the hand holding the knife.

  After four bullets, she screamed as she crumpled to the floor.

  However, even derringer shots made noise. So now, the man in Belle's room had yanked the door open and was trying to climb over her in an attempt to escape. The other man they'd locked in Kathy's room began shaking the doorknob, pounding at the door, and screaming.

  Between the shots, screaming, and pounding, the drugged Chinaman was coming out of his stupor.

  "Girls, get out now. Run! Just run! Run down the center of the street screaming! Make as much noise as you can! Now go!"

  The girls did as they'd been told and clattered down the stairs and around the corner of the building. Just then half a dozen men on horseback came thundering into town, closely followed by a buggy.

  *****

  "What the hell is going on?" Harding said, as he heard high pitched voices screaming and horse hooves pounding in the street.

  He opened the door from the residence to the workroom and looked out a front window, into the street. Men were storming his building. He closed the door, and told Victoria, "Turn that lamp down. Now!" Then he called out, "Bear!"

  But, his dog didn't come through the still open back door.

  He tried again, "Bear! Come!"

  When the beast still didn't come, he stuck his head out and saw the dog lying on the porch, quite still.

  "What did you do to him?" he hissed.

  "Nothing you haven't done to others. After all," she said, smugly, "turnabout is fair play, isn't it?"

  "You drugged him?"

  "Indeed I did," she answered.

  He came back inside, closing the door behind him, and repeated, "Turn that lamp down."

  She did as he'd told her. But, she wasn't going to just roll up and let him get control of the situation.

  She knew he wasn't above using her as a shield. Besides, he had three other hostages in here with them.

  "You know," she began, "I'm not sure what I find more despicable...that you have no compunction about kidnapping, drugging, and selling young girls, or murder anyone who gets in your way. But then, you mourn for the even possible loss of your mongrel. You make me sick!"

  She yanked the revolver from her waistband, and pointed it at Harding.

  "What? Are you going to shoot me?"

  "Yes, if I have to."

  He laughed, and said, "Go ahead, kill me."

  "Oh
, I have no intention of killing you," she answered.

  "I didn't think so. You don't have the stomach for violence. Besides, isn't that against the oath you doctors swear to?"

  "Yes, I suppose it is. However, if I always followed the rules, I'd be a matron in Philadelphia society right now, wouldn't I?" Then she shot him in the knee.

  "Son of a bitch!" he shouted out.

  "Manners, please."

  When he lurched towards her, she said, "Don't you dare come towards me! I swear, if you move again, you bastard, I'll shoot you in your other knee."

  "And, are you going to let me bleed to death?"

  "Oh no." She looked at him and in a soft, sweet voice, told him, "However, I'll treat everyone else who needs treating first. So, you might lose your leg by the time I get around to patching you up, but I won't allow you die. No, I shan't let you die. Oh no!

  "You are for the hangman's noose!"

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Josh led Gus' men into Harding's building, some going through the open front door while others circled around the structure and up the back stairway. Russ and Dave came down the steps first, encouraged by the rifle Josh prodded in their backs.

  Another man yanked the Chinaman, now with his hands tied behind his back along, as he screamed in Chinese, while another carried the unconscious Belle to the surgery. One dragged a whining Brumbell out of the saloon and shoved him down into the street, where one of the men stood with their foot on his back until they could find more rope.

  Victoria was standing in the center of it all, surveying everything, and calling out instructions, when another buggy came trotting into town, driven by Ma Swenson.

  "Dr. Thorne...are you all right? Are all of you all right?"

  "We're all fine, Ma. Now, I'm going to remove a few bullets from Harding's...ah...I suppose...madam. Kit's in the surgery. I believe Gus and Neil are nearly able to drink some coffee. But, you could keep an eye on Margaret. I'm afraid the drugged brandy had a severe effect on her."

  "All right, doctor," Ma said, letting out an audible sigh of relief.

  "Have one of the men remove Harding's dog. I'm not sure if it's dead or not. But, if it isn't, it should be secured somehow. Then, why don't you and Eva make coffee and some food for all of the men? I think they deserve some, don't you?"

  "Indeed I do, Dr. Thorne. Indeed I do," Ma said, as she alighted from the buggy and started around to the back of the workshop.

  Before she disappeared, the doctor called out, "And don't let anyone touch that brandy—it's tainted with opium! Besides, I'm sure the sheriff will want it as evidence."

  "Yes, doctor."

  "Well, Miss...ah...do you have a last name?" Victoria asked Belle.

  "Of course, I have a last name, you—"

  "Then why don't you just tell me, so you can then be quiet?"

  "You...you think you're really something, don't you? But, you wait! Brent will fix you!"

  "If you are referring to Mr. Harding, I'm afraid he's in even worse condition than you are. Now, do you wish to tell me your name, or not?"

  "Fine! It's Porter. Belle Porter!"

  "Now, that wasn't so very difficult, was it?" Victoria asked, sweetly. Then she began examining the woman.

  "I've never seen bullet wounds like this. Can you tell me what you were shot with, Miss Porter?"

  "It's Mrs. Porter, thank you. And, it was a derringer. Well, actually, two derringers. That little slut Lynn shot me in the face. And the red-headed bitch shot me in my hand."

  "Well, Mrs. Porter, I'm going to deal with your hand first. So, buck up, because I'm out of morphine."

  "Can't you give me some laudanum, at least?"

  "I'm afraid not, as I'm also out of that."

  "Then for pity's sake, give me a drink."

  "Sorry, but I have neither pity nor alcohol. And, I wouldn't give you a drop of either, even if I did. You are going to pay for all your misdeeds. And, I'm afraid it begins with me treating you sans pain killers."

  "You can't be serious? You're a doctor, for God's sake."

  "Oh, but, as I told Mr. Harding earlier, I also make my own decisions. And, I'm terribly afraid, that if I didn't take my doctor's oath as seriously as I do, I would leave you untreated until your wounds festered—just so you could experience even more pain."

  "But why? What the hell did I do to you?"

  "I suppose you don't think you did anything to me—personally. But, the truth, as I see it, is that you all put us through hell. You didn't just abuse those poor girls. You used them abominably for your own advantage. And, if you didn't have a physical hand in killing any of them you without a doubt, knew about the murders.

  "Now, sit quietly, so I can remove these bullets from your hand. Then, I'm afraid, Josh, here," she said, pointing at him, sitting quietly in a corner, "will have to tie your hands up. Since, you are under house arrest—so to speak."

  It didn't take very long for Victoria to remove the little pellets from Belle's hand. She was soon bandaged, lying on the treatment table, with her hands bound in front of her.

  Removing the bullets from her face was trickier. When push came to shove, the doctor discovered she couldn't purposefully disfigure the woman—no matter how much she loathed her. So she did her best to take them out with as little cutting as possible. And then she sutured the wounds closed carefully, using tiny stitches.

  Soon Belle was upstairs in Neil's bed, still bound wrists and ankles, with Josh watching over her, until the sheriff returned to town and could take charge of her.

  Victoria ran to the workshop, to make a quick check on Meg and the men. And, to see how Eva and Ma were managing feeding everyone.

  "All right," she said to the men who had carried Harding out onto the porch of the workshop and stood over him, "I'm ready for him now. So, if you’ll carry him to the surgery and put him onto the treatment table." She looked at him, and added, "But, you should probably tie him down to the table—somehow, so he isn't able to move. Because he's not going to be happy once I begin patching him up. Then send Josh here for some food, and one of you take charge of each of my patients."

  The sun wasn't going to be coming up for hours, but there was already a lot of activity in the town, long before its people had even begun to wake up. And the doctor knew that by noon, almost every aspect of this terrible business would have come out. But, at least, both Judge Preston and Frank Dunkirk were expected soon.

  By the time she returned to the surgery, Harding was securely tied to the treatment table, and Kit was pouring copious amounts of rubbing alcohol over his still bleeding, shattered knee while he screamed in pain.

  "I'm afraid," Dr. Thorne began, "you are going to have to be both quiet and still. I can't possibly operate with you squirming and howling like a baby."

  "I'm in pain!" he protested.

  "Well, I did warn you. Besides, you didn't seem to worry about Lori's pain when you twisted her arm so hard you broke it. Or the other girls' pain. So, why are your feelings more important? Do you think you hurt more deeply than anyone else? What makes you so special? Tell me."

  "You shot me in my knee on purpose," Harding whined. "Don't think you're going to get away with this. I'll protest this. I'll sue you and this whole town. I have a very experienced attorney. And, I'm going to have him look into having you struck off the medical register, and whatever else that can be done."

  "I don't deny shooting you. I don't even deny I did it on purpose. But then," she said, pouring more alcohol over the knee, "I told you I would. And, then you dared me to. As to your threat of having an experienced lawyer. I'm not worried. Three of my cousins are lawyers—and Philadelphia lawyers, at that. Besides, your lawyer will be busy enough just trying to keep you from being lynched without so much as a trial—if he can get here in time.

  "Oh, and it's pretty ironic about how your downfall will be reported in that...now what did you call it...a stodgy, old rag...wasn't it? Well, I might have misquoted, but I don't think anyone will real
ly care. And, don't worry. I've given them a full report of everything that happened last night. I've even made an appointment with the editor later in the day. But, don't fret yourself, I'll make sure they spell your name correctly.

  "Once the people of Manchester wake up to the revelations of just what an animal you are and what you've been up to, we're going to have a time keeping you from swinging from the nearest tree. That's why I've already sent for the judge. And, I've found out that Sheriff Dunkirk will be back on the first train. So then his deputies can relieve Gus' men and they can go home and get some rest."

  "You're pretty proud of yourself, aren't you?"

  "Yes," she agreed, smiling, "as a matter of fact, I am. Now be quiet!"

  She worked for the better part of an hour, but finally she'd removed the bullet, as many of the bits of shattered knee cap she could find, and then stitched up the wound. "I'm afraid you're knee joint isn't going to bend anymore. But, you probably won't lose the leg. Unless you decide to try something foolish like running. Besides," she finished, cheerfully, "you aren't going to be walking anywhere—really. Other than climbing the steps to the gallows."

  "You bitch!"

  Victoria merely went, "Tsk...tsk...tsk..." However, Josh slapped Harding with his hand—so hard, it left a hand print on the side of his face.

  "You have to get me something," Harding cried out. "I'm in pain."

  "I told you, I used everything I had on your dog." She looked at him in disgust and said, "You know, Mrs. Porter had four gunshot wounds and she didn't whine as much as you. It's just more proof of what I've always believed—we women, are the stronger sex."

  "We'll see," he scoffed. "What can you charge me with? Running a brothel? They aren't even illegal—exactly."

  "But what about the murders?"

  "What do I know about any murders? What did I have to do with murders? Why would I kill my merchandise? Using under-aged girls might be a bit problematic. But, you'll never get me convicted of much more than that."