“Well that’s just way it goes sometimes,” the taller man said matter-a-factly, spitting on the ground.
“I lost a good man for forty-seven dollars today,” he yelled. “I ain’t about to take that lightly.” With that the woman lying on the ground began to stir, Tom turned and looked at her and a thought of pure evil came over him. “That bitch is the only thing left. Let’s see if she can help ease our losses.” He strolled over and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her whimpering face to his he gave an evil grin. “C’mon honey, I need something from you.” Dragging her kicking and screaming he found a log next to the trail and began tearing her clothes off. Dropping his gun and pants he ravaged her helpless body. When he was done the others if the gang took turns raping her into unconsciousness.
Tom sat back and watched, smoking a cigarette, the malevolent look on his face was pure wickedness. Jimmy came over buckling up his pants laughing. “We sure made her pay for ol’ Tug, didn’t we?”
“You know, Jimmy,” Tom mused, “my whole life turned to shit because of a splittail, and I’m thinkin’ she deserves the same as this one.”
Tom rose and stretched. “Except for one thing,” he said. “You boys done with her?” he called to the other men. They looked at each other and shook their heads. Tom walked over to the naked form moaning on the ground, pulling his pistol and cocking it. He aimed at her head and shot her. Turning back to Jimmy he said, “Let’s go home.”
******
They all mounted and took off at a fast gallop; occasionally they took measures to cover their tracks in streams and over rocky ground. Night began to fall and when they were satisfied no one was following, Tom decided they should make camp. Leaving their horses saddled in case they had to make a getaway, they loosened the cinch straps. Jimmy built a small fire and cooked their meager dinner and coffee borrowed from the two strangers.
“I never did get your names,” Tom said after lighting a cigarette.
The taller of the two spoke up. “I’m Les Palmer and this is my brother Troy.”
Tom looked at Troy and nodded his head. “My name is Tom MacIntyre and this is my pard, Jimmy Rocco,” he said. “You boys got any prospects in the wind?”
“Naw,” Les said spitting into the fire. “Less you count the twenty some odd dollars you owe us.”
Tom stood up and took twenty dollars out of his pocket and handed it to Les. “How would you two like to earn a hundred times that much?” Tom asked.
“Two hundred dollars? Hell, yes!” Troy blurted out.
Les shook his head and winced. “My bother ain’t no good with cypherin’ and such. It’s two thousand dollars, Troy.”
Troy whistled long and low, “I ain’t seen me that much money at one time in my life.”
“Where is we gonna get that kind of scratch, friend? And what do we have to do to get ours?” Les asked.
“Ride to MacIntyre and get it from my account. Once we get there I’ll get a couple of small jobs for you to do.”
“Didn’t you just say your name was MacIntyre?” Les asked, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “What the hell is going on here?”
Tom laughed. “Let me explain, the town is named after my father, he owns a pretty big spread there and has a lot of money in the bank that I have access to. Him and me don’t see eye to eye on some things, mostly what I’m entitled to. Plus, there’s some folks that I need to settle a score with. That’s where you come in. You can help them around to my way of thinking.”
“Then why was you robbin’ a stagecoach if you has all this money?” Les asked frankly.
“Needed a roadstake and I thought I’d give it a try, see what happens,” Tom said casually.
“Yeah, well, you got your friend killed along with four other people, that’s what happened,” Les said gruffly. “You’re either stupid or reckless, or both.”
“Keep in mind, if I’m paying wages, you ain’t gonna speak to me that way,” Tom hissed. Their eyes locked and both men were measuring the grit the other had. Finally Les relaxed. “O.K. friend, is there going to be any killin’?”
“If I say so, there is.”
“Then the price for us is two thousand apiece.”
Tom pursed his lips. “For that kind of money, when I say shit, you squat.”
Les smiled, “Sure thing, Boss.”
******
The days after the fight in the saloon were hard on Blake. He took to leaving the house without stopping for breakfast and went straight to the forge. He just wanted to work through his thoughts and the rhythmic pounding on the anvil helped. By the time Caleb showed up he was hard at work, already dirty and breathing hard. Caleb was respectful of his space and set some biscuits with bacon on the bench near him and went about his own duties.
One of the things that required a lot of pounding was making Damascus steel for knives. It was a method of welding two different types of steel together in the forge and then repeatedly folding the bar over onto itself and re-welding it several times. This method would produce a very strong and flexible blade that could be easily sharpened and take a great deal of punishment. This type of work required a master smith and a great deal of attention. Blake knew his mind wasn’t working right when either the welding process would not stick or there were a lot of cracks and coldshuts in the metal. He knew every coldshut was a place where the steel separated and formed gaps. Every time that happened it was a weak spot in the blade causing it to break more easily. There was a pile of ruined steel billets next to the forge where Blake had not worked the metal correctly and started on another. He did manage to make four good ones and created some beautiful large Bowie style blades that exhibited several hundred layers of the different steels. When his arms got so tired it was difficult to lift the hammer he would set about grinding and polishing the blades, then attaching bone handles known for their durability.
Blake spent several days working himself to exhaustion, eating little and sleeping less. It seemed no matter how much he worked he could not get Chrissy out of his head.
Chrissy was not faring much better. Her efforts in the kitchen suffered, burning several pans of biscuits and forgetting what people ordered. She snapped many times at the customers who complained and ended up giving away free meals as an apology. Whenever Caleb came in for school she was polite to him but he reminded her of Blake and she got mad all over again. She wanted desperately to ask him about Blake but she knew it wasn’t fair to put him in the middle. One time it was almost two o’clock and she knew he was coming, so she made an excuse to Bonnie and left before he got there. Not knowing where to go she wandered up the street and window shopped. That’s when she came across one of the most beautiful dresses she had ever seen. Michelle was in the window placing it on a dress form for display and she waved for Chrissy to come in.
“Mrs. O’Bryan,” she said cheerily, “how lovely to see you.”
“Please call me Chrissy,” she said smiling back. “That is a gorgeous dress.”
“I’m kinda proud of that one,” Michelle said brushing back an errant curl from her forehead. “I don’t mind saying it was a lot of work.”
Chrissy stepped closer to it and closely examined it. “I should say so. You have a marvelous talent, very professional.”
“How kind of you to say,” Michelle said. “I’m trying to get a few more made for the Founder’s Day dance coming up.”
Chrissy had been so distracted lately she had completely forgotten about the dance. Some time back the town started an annual celebration on the first of August recognizing the naming of the town. It was a big party with food, music and games all day long. They built a large platform for dancing and ended with fireworks. It was a time the whole town looked forward to. “Well I’m sure you will have no problem selling this dress, it’s stunning.”
“I hope so,” Michelle answered. “The women in this town are a little shy about coming in here, given my past reputation.”
�
��They’ll come around, it just takes time.”
“I was going to pour myself some tea,” Michelle said. “Would you like to join me?”
“That would be nice,” Chrissy said. “I could use someone to talk to.”
“I’ll be right back then,” and she disappeared in the back, coming out a moment later carrying a tray with a teapot, cups and some cookies. Setting them on a small table with two chairs they sat down and Michelle poured. “So what is it you want to talk about?”
Chrissy sipped her tea and thought for a moment. “You’ve known a lot of men, right?” Chrissy asked, and then realizing how that sounded she quickly said, “I’m sorry that didn’t sound nice, I mean…”
Michelle giggled. “No need to be sorry, I don’t hide from my past, and yes, I made the acquaintance of a few.”
Chrissy laughed lightly and stared down at her cup. “I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing, but I don’t really have any one else to ask.”
“Sweetie,” she said placing a hand on Chrissy’s arm. “There’s only you and me and that dress dummy in here. It’s all right.”
“Well there’s a man,” Chrissy started.
“Blake Thorton?” Michelle interrupted.
“Yes.”
“He seems like one of the good ones, for sure.”
“I think he is too, but he makes me mad because it’s hard to get a straight answer from him. It always seems like a game with him.”
Michelle laughed, “Of course it is. Look, I think there are four types of men. The first are like mice, they are little pipsqueaks who are easy to boss around. The second are wolves, mean and nasty, they’ll hurt you both mind and body and won’t look back. The third are hounds, like the one a family has, kinda dumb but loyal, good protectors and providers but get fat and lazy.”
Chrissy giggled, “I never looked at men that way, but it’s true, I know a lot that will fit into those groups.”
“In my opinion, all critters to avoid,” Michelle grinned.
“What about the last?”
“Those are the special ones,” she said. “If they were an animal I guess they would be a wild stallion. Strong, loyal and full of life, galloping around tending the herd. They can be playful and tender, sweet as the day is long, and yet they won’t be tamed. If one of them gets cornered they are hell on wheels. I know men like that who will take on the entire Comanche nation singlehanded and walk away. They just have a way about them that makes you safe and secure, like you are wrapped up in a warm quilt. One of the most frustrating things about them is one word that scares the Beejesus out of them and makes them run like a scalded cat.”
“Really?” Chrissy asked. “What’s that?”
“Marriage.”
Chrissy stared at her blankly, her mouth opened slightly.
Michelle’s smile slowly disappeared. “Oh, sweetie, did you mention marriage?”
“Yes, I mean no,” Chrissy stammered. “I just think a man and woman should be married if they …” She stopped and put her hand to her mouth.
Michelle smiled knowingly, “Oh please, who am I to judge anybody? Let me guess, he said some pretty stupid things, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” Chrissy said tears forming in her eyes.
“He didn’t leave town then?”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said dabbing her eyes.
“Whew,” said Michelle. “Then he’s yours.”
“What do you mean?”
“Men like Blake Thorton are where they are because they want to be there,” Michelle said assuredly. “He loves you, he just doesn’t know it yet, and men like him are slow on the uptake. Time will cure that.”
“You think he would have left if he didn’t care?” Chrissy said hopefully.
“Like a scalded cat, honey,” Michelle laughed. “Like a scalded cat.”
They both laughed a long time over that and finally Chrissy asked, “So what word scares Percival? He seems indestructible.”
“Actually, children,” Michelle giggled. “And unless I miss my guess, he is going to be one scared son-of-gun pretty soon.”
Chrissy smiled broadly, “Are you with child?”
“I’m pretty sure; I have to go see the doctor yet.”
“That’s wonderful news, are you happy?”
“I’m elated,” said Michelle. “But I’m a little nervous.”
“Why’s that?”
“Have you seen the size of that man? He might make a baby the size of a calf!” Again, they laughed and Chrissy looked at the clock on the wall.
“I really must be getting back, thank you so much, I feel better,” she said.
“I enjoyed it too,” Michelle said. “And thank you for using the front door.”
Chrissy opened the door and saw two women coming toward her on the boardwalk, turning back to Michelle, she said loud enough for the women to hear, “Can you make this dress in lavender?”
“Sure,” Michelle said back.
“In time for the dance?”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Then please do,” Chrissy smiled and turned to the ladies on the street. “Have you seen this dress in the window? Isn’t it gorgeous?”
“Oh my, it is,” one of them said. “And the dance is coming up.”
“But she worked at the saloon,” the other said in a hushed voice.
Chrissy leaned in close and whispered, “She doesn’t work there anymore, she’s married now, and besides, who would know better what catches a man’s eye?”
“True,” the first woman said, thinking. “Veronica Simpson bought a dress here and loves it. I can’t have her turning more heads than me. I’m going in.”
Chrissy turned to Michelle who was absolutely beaming and gave her a wink. Michelle mouthed back, “Thank you.”
******
Chrissy started back toward the café and heard the ringing of the anvil in Blake’s forge. She hesitated for a moment and turned down the street toward where he was working. Her stomach felt as if a flock of birds was trying escape but she pressed on, drawing a deep breath. Putting on the best smile she could, she approached the forge to find Joe Bergman talking to Blake as he worked an orange hot piece of steel. She stood in the doorway and waited to be noticed when Joe turned and saw her. He tapped Blake on the shoulder and pointed at the door. Blake was still hammering when he glanced up and saw Chrissy. He lost his concentration and struck his thumb with a large hammer. “Ow,” he yelled, “shit, that hurts,” pulling off his glove and nursing his bruised thumb.
“I’m sorry,” Chrissy said concerned. “Did I cause that?”
“No,” Blake said wincing. “Just clumsy, I guess. What can I do for you, Mrs. O’Bryan?”
“Well, I was just out for a stroll and heard you working,” she stated nervously. “I was wondering if I was going to see you at the Founder’s Day dance.”
“What dance?” Blake asked confused, then looking at Joe. “There’s a dance?”
“Big one,” he replied. “Every year on August first.”
“I didn’t know,” Blake stammered, “I mean I guess I’ll go, I didn’t think you’d want…” he stopped himself. “You said you’re going?”
“Oh yes,” Chrissy said. “It is always a grand time.”
“I don’t know, I suppose,” Blake looked at Joe helplessly. “What do you think, Joe?”
Before Joe could answer Chrissy asked, “Can you dance, Mr. Thorton?”
“Yup,” he said sucking the side of his thumb.
“Then I will save a dance for you, good day gentlemen,” Chrissy smiled and turned around heading back down the street.
“What in the name of Christ just happened?” Blake said staring at Joe.
“It appears the widow O’Bryan just proved that she is smarter than you are,” chuckled Joe.
Blake blew out a deep breath as he watched Chrissy turning the corner. “I need to soak this thumb,” he said
, heading for the water trough.
“Try soaking your head, too,” Joe shouted.
Chapter 17
As the Founder’s Day celebration got closer, the town began to decorate with flags and red, white and blue bunting that hung from every porch and rooftop. A large platform for the dance was being erected, enough to hold thirty couples, along with a charcoal pit to roast a side of beef. People seemed to be in a good mood including Blake, who seemed almost back to normal … except for the one morning Caleb teased him about being in love and quickly apologized when Blake gave him a dark look and left for the forge without him. Sadie gave Caleb a good scolding about poking a bear in a sore spot.
As the morning progressed in the forge Blake’s mood lightened and they got along fine. When Sadie brought lunch that day they sat under their customary tree and enjoyed a hearty meal. Blake was just about to get back to work when he noticed four riders coming down the street. Tom MacIntyre was in the lead with Jimmy Rocco and the Palmer Brothers, Les and Troy, close behind. All four of them had the look of being on the trail for weeks. Tom MacIntyre gave Blake a cold stare with an evil sneer as he rode by, and Blake remained stone faced. Satan, who was lying in the shade chewing on a ham bone, gave the Palmer brothers a low sustained growl as he watched them with wolfish eyes. Troy made a mock gun with his fingers and pointed them at the dog, then he blew out a quiet “boom.” Both he and Les chuckled quietly to each other and rode up to the livery and dismounted. Blake gave Sadie a look that said ‘go home’ and she gathered up the dishes and walked up the street as quickly as she could. Blake tapped Caleb and motioned to the forge as he rose and stood near the door, his Winchester in easy reach.
The four men talked to Joe for a few minutes and then led their horses in the livery. They reappeared minutes later carrying their saddlebags, bedrolls and rifles and headed back out the way they came. Blake remained in the doorway until they turned the corner. “Shit,” he muttered to himself.
Tom led the three men up the street and stopped in front of the bank and handed Jimmy his gear. “Go wait at the hotel,” he said, “I’ll be there directly,” as he crossed the street and entered the bank. He stood and looked around, deciding what to do when he saw Weatherby eyeing him nervously. Smiling, Tom walked over to his desk and sat down.
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