O’Malley reached in his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “This here is yer wages. There’s a bit more tucked away besides, Sean. I want ye to go see the doc and I won’t hear no argument from ye, neither.”
The old man stared out the window for a moment. Then he looked at Sean, adding, “Someone turned ye inta the authorities, son. That’s why I am forced to let ye go, see. They think you got the consumption and I suspect it’s so. Here in this country, if you walk around with a disease and don’t have a doctor’s say-so, they put you away. So you go on in and get yerself checked out.” He smiled. “Who knows? Maybe it’s just a passing thing and it’ll be gone along with the last of the winter’s snow.”
Spring did not thaw the sickness in Sean’s lungs, however. He never went to see the doctor, choosing instead to use the precious extra coin for room and board. Unfortunately, as tuberculosis ate away at the lining of Sean’s lungs and it became more difficult to breathe, Mrs. Pratt and the other boarders in her house became concerned.
They were concerned for the young family but, in truth, more worried about their own health. It was obvious that a “lunger” was gasping his life away upstairs and they wanted no part of it, either from the dying man or the possibility of contracting the illness. Finally, although she cherished young Maggie’s help, Mrs. Pratt was forced to evict the Irish family.
They were almost out of money by then and Sean reluctantly moved his two children into an attic of a tenement house. By now, summer sent heat from the dusty streets in fly-shot waves high into the air and the extremely hot air seemed to culminate in the Donnelly’s garret room. Sean spent his days either sweltering like a pig in his own sweat or—despite the heat—shivering against death’s bony embrace.
Maggie did what she could to help her Da although he gasped and choked like a fish on dry land. She cleaned their room and fetched water from the downstairs well, trudging up six flights of steps to the attic. She cooked rice and beans and sometimes traded stitch work for a ham hock or a beef knuckle. She did this while thinking that eventually her Da would get better, sit up in bed with a smile and tell more stories about their homeland…the sweet, green island of his youth.
Instead, Sean grew frailer every day and the flesh seemed to melt from his bones. Now, the only thing he was able to stomach was thin gruel and the occasional piece of moistened bread. Maggie gave up doing any piecework as most of her time was spent holding her dying father in her arms or helping him to the privy pot.
Meanwhile, since Patrick had moved too far away to profit from his friendship with young Quinn, he met a new group of boys who called themselves Ike’s Spikes. He did not know it at first but the Spikes were runners and roustabouts for one of the most notorious gangsters in New York, Ike Banyon.
Chapter 4
Matthew
Iris, Samuel, Lenny and Bandit headed home after finding out Amelia was not on the train nor would she be arriving any time soon. Upon hearing the news, Iris stared up into Matthew’s eyes with fear, sorrow and anger. She knew he would be going after the girl come hell or high water, a fact that made her feel proud and terrified at the same time for both her niece’s and her husband’s safety.
“Will you be coming home before you go?” she asked.
Nodding, he replied, “Yes. I‘ve already spoken to Maddock. The next train back to Ellensburg leaves at 6:30 this evening. I plan to get a quick start but I still need to pack some things before I leave.”
“Okay, I better get going then. I’ll try to have some things packed for you by the time you get home.” She kissed him on the cheek and climbed up into the wagon where Lenny snapped the reins and yelled, “Ha!”
Matthew and Roy were in the sheriff’s office, staring at a map of Ellensburg and the surrounding area. As with much of Washington state, there were vast tracts of unoccupied land. Many towns had sprung up almost overnight as tracks were laid for the SLS&E—Seattle, Lake Shore and Eastern Railway—and had just as quickly been abandoned when the rail-line ultimately went out of business, giving way for the Northern Pacific to re-route the eastern lines to the TriCities.
One of the spurs still stopped just outside of Ellensburg where Amelia had been kidnapped. The good news for Matthew was that the town was much closer to Granville than the TriCities. The bad news was, despite a fairly new and active train station, the rest of the surrounding landscape was a vast network of private farms, ranches and very little commerce. Thus, a shortage of eyes on the situation so Amelia and her kidnappers could be anywhere.
Staring down at the map on his desk, Matthew felt his heart sink. It will be like finding a very small needle in a very large haystack, he thought.
“It won’t take long for the deputies to arrive, Matthew,” Roy murmured. “If I push it, they can be here by tonight.”
Matthew had told Roy to follow him to Ellensburg the next day. Ever since the ordeal with the Mad Hatters nearly six years ago, he felt uncomfortable leaving the people in his town alone. Now though, after studying the map, he was starting to change his mind. He would need another hand, maybe even two, if he were to have a hope of finding his wife’s niece in that high, wild country. After all, he had been there before…lost, injured and alone in a winter blizzard in the Cascades.
“Okay, I agree. Go ahead and telegraph the Spokane sheriff’s office and ask for two deputies. If I can have an assurance that they will be here by tonight, you, me and Abner will catch the westbound at 6:30.”
Roy immediately strode out the door and up the street to the telegraph office. Exiting his private office, Matthew stepped outside, walked up the boardwalk a few steps and entered the jailhouse. Two deputies were inside, Abner Smalley and Tom “Bean” Tolson. Bean was holding a rifle in his arms, keeping careful watch as Abner led a handcuffed prisoner out the back door to the privy.
Matthew sat down at his desk and started listing a few things the Spokane deputies would need to do and watch out for in Granville while Matthew and his men were away. A few minutes later, Abner, Bean and a prisoner named Beetle came back inside.
“When you’re finished there, come on over and sit down” Matthew called out.
A few minutes later, Bean and Abner sat in the chairs in front of the sheriff’s desk.
“I assume you two have heard about my wife’s niece?” Seeing both men nod, Matthew continued, “Well, Roy and I are going after her and, Abner, I want you to come with us. What do you think? Can your ma spare you for a week or two?”
Abner, a young man of nineteen, took care of his aging mother when he was not working as a deputy. He was an enormous man, at least six foot five and over 250 pounds, but gentle as a kitten. Some people thought he was a little simple, but Matthew thought it was more than that. Although Abner was no intellectual, he had a good feel for life—and who was on the wrong side of it. He was a deliberate man who thought everything out before he acted.
He was calm and careful, another deliberation on his part as he had once dislocated his little sister’s shoulder when he was only eleven years old. The incident was not intentional…he was just so strong he had pulled the girl’s arm out of its socket as they were playing. Nevertheless, he still remembered the horror of what he had done and took great care now with his staggering strength.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ll get my sister Minnie to look after Ma.”
“Okay, good.” Matthew replied. “Go on and get packed. Once you get back, I want you to have three of our fastest horses geared up and ready to go. Get old Sam ready to haul while you’re at it. I know he’s mean as a snake but that mule is the best and the fastest hauler we’ve got once he gets the kinks out of his system.”
Grinning, Matthew watched the color leave Abner’s face. “Yessir, but I sure hope I don’t have to punch that old bastard again like the last time I saddled him…”
“I hope not either, son. But just in case, stand back and let him get the vinegar out of his blood before you put the pack saddle on him. Be ready to leave by six o�
�clock.”
Abner got up and left, and Matthew spent a few minutes explaining his lists and priorities to Bean. Finally, Roy walked back in with another telegraph paper in his hand. He placed the message on the sheriff’s desk and said, “Spence and Davey are leaving Spokane right now, by buggy. They should be here within a couple of hours.”
Relieved, Matthew stood up and pulled his watch from his vest. “Good, but I better get a move on if we’re going to make that train. Roy, pack your bags for a couple of weeks and if Abner needs some help getting the horses and mule loaded, give him a hand, alright?”
“Sure thing, boss.” Roy nodded and walked outside again.
Studying their one and only prisoner, Matthew asked, “You think you can handle this on your own for a couple of hours, Bean?”
Bean looked affronted. “Well, of course, Sheriff! It’s just old Beetle and he’s still as drunk as a fiddler’s clerk. My guess is he’ll just sleep through the rest of the night.”
Matthew grinned in agreement. “Still, you keep a sharp eye out. Chances are the Spokane deputies will be here before we even leave but if there’s any problem, you skedaddle down to the telegraph office and send for the Spokane County Marshal, okay?”
“You got it, Matthew,” Bean said, adding, “Good luck finding Iris’s niece, sir.”
A few minutes later, Matthew trotted out of town towards home. He needed to pick up a few things and say goodbye to his family.
~
His leather valise was packed by the time he arrived, which Matthew appreciated. The only things he needed now were a couple of extra guns, more ammunition and some spending cash. He kept glancing at his watch…time was wasting. If he didn’t get a move on he would miss the train although Matthew had no doubt that Roy would hold the locomotive in the name of the law. Still, the sheriff didn’t want that sort of headache on top of everything else so he hastily removed his dress clothes, exchanging them for his favorite old denim shirt, jeans and his most comfortable boots.
Finally, he was ready to leave. Moving down the staircase, Matthew looked lovingly at his family standing by the front door. They were all dressed nicely, even young Samuel, and Abby had tears in her eyes.
“Papa, I wanna come!” young Chance yelled, running up to cling to Matthew’s leg.
A sudden chill ran up and down the sheriff’s spine. There was no question in his mind that he would go to look for his wife’s missing niece, but this was the first time he had ever left his family alone. Remembering his last mission out of town and the series of mishaps on that trip, Matthew’s eyes grew sharp as he memorized every feature of his loved one’s faces.
He hugged his stepdaughter and shook his stepson’s hand, even as his littlest rode his papa’s leg like a horse. Then he bent and placed his lips on Iris’s mouth. At this point, Chance screamed, “Ewww, Ma! Pa! Stoppit!”
The kiss continued for another moment and then Matthew stepped back with a smile. “I’ll be back before you know it. As soon as I hear word about Amelia’s whereabouts, I’ll send a telegraph.”
Turning to Samuel, he said, “You are the man of the house, son. Take care of these ladies and your little brother while I’m away, won’t you?”
Nodding, Samuel answered, “Yes, sir. I will.”
Looking down at his son, Matthew saw that Chance was starting to worry. Jewel-like tears were in his large green eyes and his lower lip started to quiver with anxiety. Bending down, he said, “Come here and give your Pa a hug!”
The little boy leapt into Matthew’s arms and burst into tears. “Now, now…I’ll only be gone for a little while. I want you to help your big brother watch out for the ladyfolk around here, alright?”
Puffing up slightly with the gravity of his task, Chance knuckled the tears away from his face and said, “Okay, Pa.”
Putting the boy into his mother’s arms, Matthew stepped out the door, strode down the porch steps and tied his satchel to the saddlehorn. Then he strapped two rifles to the bedroll. He heard Iris running up behind him.
“Mattie!” She cried and he turned to take her in his arms once more. They kissed again and he could feel her body trembling. He wanted to comfort her and tell her it was going to be okay but he couldn’t. Mounting his horse, he just smiled as she finally stepped away from his embrace.
“I’ll be home soon, wife. I love you.” Matthew tipped his hat and urged his horse into a brisk trot.
~
The train was just pulling into the station as Matthew rode up. He saw three horses nibbling at a small mound of hay and one cantankerous old mule pulling at the rope in Roy’s hands.
There was a pile of luggage close to his deputy’s feet and a large sack of grain as well. Matthew sighed in relief…at least they weren’t too far behind the kidnappers. Looking down the road, he saw a sleek, black buggy pulled by two horses round the corner and come his way.
It carried the deputies he had called in from Spokane and they waved at him, grinning with pride. Walking up, he said, “Well, I hope you two didn’t wear your ponies out getting here so fast.”
“No, sir!” Davey stammered, nervously. “It’s this new racing buggy we got. It’s faster ‘n greased lightnin’!”
Matthew grinned. “Well, that’s a load off my mind.” Turning serious, he added, “We’re headed out now but I tried to make a list of the things you might need to do while I’m gone. It’s been pretty quiet around here lately and I hope it stays that way. But if you have a problem, any problem at all, you telegraph the marshal. Got it?”
“Yes, sir!” both young men responded as one.
“Well, then…Let’s head on over to the jail. I’ll give you a quick run-down before we take off.
Tipping their hats, the deputies nodded. Matthew followed and gave last minute instructions to Bean and the fill-in lawmen while Roy and Abner loaded their gear and livestock up onto the flatbed of the train. Twenty minutes later, they headed west.
Chapter 5
Margaret
Margaret stared at the girl with tired, gritty eyes. The young woman—Amelia Winters, according to the diary she kept in her purse—had come close to dying over the last few hours and Margaret knew it was her fault. She ran her tongue over the swollen, bloody cut that graced her bottom lip and winced; Patrick had been furious and showed his displeasure by punching her in the face before storming off into the night.
She sighed. When had her brother begun to hate her so? Was it just recently, as her value as a prostitute began to diminish? Or had his scorn for her started when he was only a boy? Margaret had once been a raving beauty, renowned for her prowess in bed. She and the girls in her stable had made her brother wealthy and powerful—one of the kings of both the New Orleans and San Francisco underworlds. Now he treated her like a dirty, broken doll…a piece of rubbish fit only to be thrown on the trash pile.
Knowing that their latest victim was finally out of the woods, medically speaking, Margaret lay her head down on her pillow and closed her eyes. She had done wrong and she knew it. Her addiction to opium had started long ago and, although God knew she tried to control it, Margaret always sought ways to attain the only inner peace she ever felt within the warm embrace of the poppy.
It was one thing to lie on satin sheets in her beautiful, gold-gilded bedroom back in San Francisco. When she sucked the opulent fumes from her hookah, her dreams were vivid and bright, her shame submerged within foggy hallucinations of power and glory. It was quite another here in this godforsaken country where the only opium she could find was in the form of small, sticky balls of sap, obtained on the sly and at great cost from Chinese workers on the rail-lines.
Patrick had destroyed Margaret’s pipe when they fled New Orleans but she knew all the tricks that an opium addict needed to survive. She made laudanum—rubbing alcohol with balls of opium melted in the liquid—and learned to roll tiny amounts of the resin into balls which she inserted into the back of her cheek for a minor but long-lasting high.
She pur
chased Green Fairy juice—which was absinthe—and supplemented her waking dreams in alcoholic bliss. She occasionally bought small squares of hashish as well but it held a distinct odor that her brother could easily detect so Margaret tried to curtail her use of that product. Yet she was just barely able to keep her addiction and recent withdrawal pangs under control.
A week ago, however, she bought two rather large and lumpy wads of opium from a doctor in Seattle’s Chinatown while her brother visited the local hospital to purchase a few bottles of ether. She noticed later that night that this batch of opium seemed stronger than what she was accustomed to but, like many addicts, she promptly threw caution to the wind and decided to enjoy the drug’s extra potency.
Forgetting that she might be asked to perform her part in Patrick’s latest ‘get rich quick’ scheme, Margaret spent a few days floating on a pink, soft-edged cloud of narcotic euphoria, her brother none the wiser. Then Patrick said they would leave the following morning to search for another batch of girls to sell.
While in Seattle, he had learned that an Arabian sultan was in need of ten new girls for his harem. The man had heard that American women were highly sexed and far less constrained in bed than their European counterparts. When Patrick found out that the sultan would pay up to a thousand dollars a head for the right batch of women, he grew excited. Knowing his competitors would be wasting no time in fulfilling the Arabian’s order, he commanded his sister to sober up and help him or he would give her a beating she would not soon forget.
Lying in her bed now, Margaret sighed again. She had tried to get sober but apparently her mind was still opium-fogged when she kidnapped the girl as she had radically misjudged the amount of ether on the cloth she put over Amelia’s mouth. When the girl fell into a coma, Patrick was enraged.
After smacking his sister around, he went through her things, found what was left of her opium and threw it into the woodstove. Margaret had wept as she bled on the floor but rejoiced as well. She still had a half bottle of laudanum that she had placed in her corset and two full bottles of the precious Green Fairy juice.
Deadman's Fury (The Deadman Series Book 2) Page 3