Maggie O'Bannen 1

by Joe Slade

  ‘She’s right, kid.’ Doc released her arm and fanned his hands out at his sides. ‘Lower the gun and let’s talk about this for a minute.’

  Rick straightened his arm and adjusted his aim. ‘There’s nothing to talk about. We’re leaving.’ His gaze flickered to Maggie. ‘Your horse is saddled. Mount up, Maggie.’

  This was a side of Rick Talbot that Maggie hadn’t seen and she didn’t like it. She certainly wouldn’t feel safe riding off alone with him in his current state of agitation.

  ‘Doc’s right, Rick,’ she said. ‘We need to think this through.’

  ‘I’ve thought it through. I let you down before, Maggie, but not again. I’m getting you out of here. Somewhere safe. Nobody’s ever going to hurt you again while I’m around.’ He gestured with the muzzle of the gun. ‘Come on. Now.’

  She didn’t move.

  ‘Better do something before he shoots one of us,’ Doc whispered.

  ‘No, Rick. I’m staying here.’

  The gun wavered. ‘You were the one who said we had to keep going and stay one step ahead. What’s changed? Him?’

  ‘You have. You’re pointing a gun at me. You’re frightening me. How does that make you any different to those others?’

  She might as well have slapped him in the face. He dropped the gun to his side like a dead weight.

  ‘I’d never hurt you, Maggie.’ He moved towards her and softened his tone. ‘I just want to do right by you.’

  ‘Then come back to the kitchen. Doc can put some coffee on and get you something to eat. You look like you haven’t slept or eaten in days.’

  Doc had other plans. ‘I’m afraid you folks will have to see to yourselves. I’m getting out of here,’ he said as he marched away. ‘That’s what I’m going to do. Fifteen years … fifteen years … and then this … if I …’

  Maggie followed him in to his bedroom where he started tearing open drawers and pulling out clothes, all the while muttering to himself.

  ‘Doc, wait a minute. You said we needed to talk this through.’

  He chuffed. ‘There was a mad man pointing a gun at me. What else was I going to say?’

  ‘So you’re going to abandon us?’

  ‘Yep.’

  She made a grab for his arm but he sidestepped.

  ‘Look, Doc, they don’t know we’re here. They don’t know you’re here. The best thing we can do is wait and see what they do. Otherwise we might just draw attention to ourselves for no reason.’

  Her words had no effect.

  ‘I know exactly what they’ll do. The same as every other troublemaker that passes through this hellhole of an excuse for a town. They’ll get into a fight and they’ll come here looking for a doc to patch them up and who are they gonna find? Oh, yeah. The man they promised to kill.’

  ‘You’re overreacting.’

  He pulled saddlebags from under the bed and started shoving clothes inside. ‘You’re entitled to your opinion.’

  Looking between the two men, she wondered if she was the crazy one. She could understand Rick’s reaction; he was a coward. But Doc? He was a law-abiding citizen, an educated man, although not forgetting disconcertingly perceptive. Maybe she should feel a sense of panic, but she didn’t.

  ‘Doc, just hear me out,’ she pleaded. ‘Rick, which way did they ride in?’

  ‘From the south.’

  ‘And the cabin is to the north,’ she said.

  ‘And the sun rises in the east and sets in the west,’ Doc added, sarcastically. ‘We know that. What’s your point?’

  ‘My point is, they’re heading towards the cabin not away from it.’ It was a struggle to keep her tone civil but starting an argument wouldn’t help. ‘They haven’t been there yet and they don’t know Frank’s already dead. It’s my guess they’ll be in a hurry to get there before he dies. Walt must have told them how sick he was or why bother to show up after all this time?’ Her reasoning was as much for her as Doc. ‘Until they reach the cabin, they won’t know or suspect anything. There’s no reason for them to come looking for us now and absolutely no reason for them to cross paths with you.’

  Doc stopped his packing. ‘That’s a lot of guesswork but it sounds feasible, I suppose. Saying I go along with it, how does that help?’

  She sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling weary, wondering why both men were looking to her for answers. What could a banker’s daughter who hadn’t seen civilization for seven years know that they didn’t. Yet neither man seemed ready or able to offer up a plan.

  ‘It gives us time,’ she said.

  ‘To do what?’ Doc asked testily as he weighed a book in each hand, apparently trying to decide on which to take.

  She lashed out, knocking them both to the floor with a decisive thud. ‘To plan our escape without raising suspicion.’

  She had his attention now, albeit grudgingly, and she ploughed on letting the idea form as she talked.

  ‘Rick can go to the saloon and keep an eye on them. He can find out what they’re up to.’

  ‘What!’ Rick backed away.

  ‘They don’t know you. You’re just another stranger in town. Go and have a drink. That’s all I’m asking. Be our eyes and ears.’

  He didn’t need to say anything. She could see from the wild look of panic in his eyes that his moment of courage had passed. It reminded her of the night he had walked away and left her at the mercy of Walt McLean. That had been bad enough but if he walked away now it was more than her life he would leave hanging in the balance.

  She started to speak but Doc cut her off.

  ‘Look, kid, she’s right. There’s no other way. She can’t do it. A woman like her walking in to a saloon would draw too much attention. I can’t go because they might recognize me and I’m no good to anyone if I’m dead. You’re the only one who can do it.’

  It was a good argument but Maggie could see that Rick was still unconvinced. She wanted to tell him to show some backbone, to stop being such a mama’s boy, but somehow she thought better of it and settled on a gentler approach.

  ‘We’re depending on you, Rick.’ She rested her hand on his arm and gave it a light squeeze. ‘You can do this.’

  He wavered for a few more seconds then shoved the six-gun back in to its holster. ‘Do you think they serve coffee in the saloon?’

  ‘I’m sure they do,’ she said without having the faintest idea.

  He seemed to want to say more but instead he turned and walked away. Maggie listened to the sound of his footsteps as he left by the back entrance. She half expected to hear the sound of hoofs as he rode away, never to be seen again, but the quiet remained unbroken.

  Doc sat down beside her. ‘I thought he was going to run like a scared rabbit.’

  That seemed like the kettle calling the pot black but Maggie let it go. She realized that, for better or worse, they were all in this together. Now wasn’t the time for pettiness.

  ‘I’m going to get some rest,’ she said, walking away. ‘Call me when Rick gets back.’

  Doc touched his fingers to his temple by way of a salute. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  Nine

  Bull Braddock pushed open the split doors of the Crossing saloon, blocking out the daylight as he stopped to survey the room. Several faces turned his way, looking back at him with only mild interest before returning to whatever game or conversation they had been engaged in.

  Not seeing anyone he recognized, Braddock thumped up to the bar. He threw down a couple of coins and ordered two whiskeys. Without a word, the barkeep poured two shots and waited as Braddock and Harris drank them down. Without any prompting, he refilled the glasses then scooped up the payment and started to walk away.

  ‘Wait a minute, barkeep,’ Milt ordered. ‘We’ve got a few questions. Maybe you can give us some answers.’

  The man stopped and turned back around. His expression was guarded behind wire-framed spectacles. Braddock decided that he didn’t like him and wouldn’t trust whatever came out of his mouth. The
odds were strong that he would kill him before they left.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Braddock asked.

  ‘Bart Weston. I own this place.’

  Braddock grunted. It wasn’t much to brag about but, like all small town bar owners, this little man seemed to think it made him sound important.

  ‘Have you seen any strangers come in to town recently?’ Milt asked.

  The man’s green eyes fixed on Milt. ‘We don’t get many folks through here these days.’

  ‘I guess you’d notice then,’ Braddock said. ‘What’s your answer?’

  Bart scratched his head, barely disturbing his oiled hair. ‘Ain’t seen nobody new in here for a few weeks before you boys walked in.’

  Milt tapped his glass for another refill. ‘Is this the only saloon in town?’

  ‘The one and only. We offer whiskey, girls and a room for the night. Anybody came in to town, this’d be their first stop.’

  Braddock turned his back to the scarred oak bar and let his gaze roam once more over the half dozen patrons sitting around the room. A drunk dozing in the corner. A down at heel old cowboy. A couple of dirt farmers. And two whores, a blonde and a red head, giving him the eye and whispering behind their hands. He felt a stirring in his loins.

  ‘Have you got any law in this town?’ he asked.

  Bart shifted uncomfortably. ‘We take care of our own.’

  Braddock turned and counted out five dollars on to the bar. ‘I’ll take the blonde whore and a room for the night.’

  ‘That’ll only cost you two dollars.’

  Braddock laughed. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll get my money’s worth.’

  Bart looked uneasy, as though he might have an objection, but whatever it was went unsaid as a movement caught his eye and a second later the split doors swung open.

  Braddock watched the newcomer walk to the other end of the bar, taking his measure with each step. Aged around twenty-three, he wasn’t a local. He raised a lot of heads as he entered but no one spoke to him. He wasn’t like them. His coat, hat and boots were ingrained with a layer of dust and looked damp as if he had been out in the rain for a while. At his waist he wore a holstered .45 on a loaded shell belt. He was careful not to make eye contact for too long.

  ‘Have you come far, mister?’ Milt shouted along to him.

  ‘Flitwick.’

  ‘Did you see anybody on the way here. Five horses carrying maybe four men and a woman, or two men and three pack horses?’

  The newcomer shook his head. ‘I haven’t seen a soul.’

  He dropped a coin on the bar and Bart poured him a glass of whiskey. Despite looking like he needed a stiff drink, he didn’t taste it. Without further comment, he nodded in Milt’s direction and took his drink to a table on the far side of the room. Immediately, both whores descended on him and started to flirt.

  Braddock’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as the blonde girl threw back her head and laughed at something the newcomer said.

  ‘Do you know him?’ Braddock asked when Bart came to refill Milt’s glass.

  ‘Never seen him before. He must have just rode in.’

  ‘Well, I guess that was bad timing on his part. I paid for that whore. You best get her over here.’

  Bart snapped his fingers and both girls looked his way. He waved at them to come across. The blonde seemed reluctant to leave her handsome prospect and pressed a kiss to his cheek as the other girl tugged her away. They came forward together, the red head giggling and eyeing the newcomers with interest when she saw the money on the bar.

  ‘I only want the blonde,’ Braddock said, gripping her by the fleshy part of her arm and dragging her to him.

  She tried to pull away but his fingers dug in to her bare flesh and she yelped. Braddock grinned at the fear in her eyes.

  ‘Easy, mister,’ Bart cautioned. ‘She’ll go with you willing enough.’

  ‘Makes no difference to me whether she’s willing or not.’

  There was nothing humorous in the way Braddock said it and Bart looked uneasy, his Adam’s apple bobbing erratically.

  ‘Why don’t you take both girls?’ he said. ‘Unless your friend wants some company.’

  Milt grunted and poured himself another drink. ‘This is all the company I’ll be needing.’

  ‘Guess I’ve got myself twice the fun then,’ Braddock said, spreading his muscular arms wide and taking each girl by the waist. ‘If things get a little loud, barkeep, remember I paid for the whole night.’

  Ten

  As tired as she felt, Maggie hadn’t expected sleep to come as easily as it did. The only problem was the nightmares it brought with it. Vivid images so real that she believed Walt McLean was there holding her down, forcing himself on her. Several times she had woken up covered in sweat and struggling to breathe as she fought against nothing more than a tangled blanket.

  Each time, she had shaken herself back to reality, refusing to let fear hold her in its grasp. As day faded into night, she had drifted back into an uneasy sleep and the cycle began again.

  This time, she woke with a start. It was light. Morning? No. Beside the bed a lamp burned on a low wick. Looking past it, she saw Doc asleep in the chair, snoring gently, an open book balanced in his lap. A rifle leaned against the edge of the bed within easy reach.

  She lay quietly, listening to the sounds seeping in through the thin wooden panels separating her from the outside world. Some distance away a woman laughed and a door slammed. A dog barked and someone shouted a rebuke. They were noises she had grown unaccustomed to. They both excited and frightened her, neither emotion holding sway over the other.

  She closed her eyes and let her mind drift, for the first time letting herself think about the future. Inevitably, it started with the past. In the early days, when Frank had first taken her in to the hills, all she had thought about was going home. She hadn’t believed Frank when he told her that her father didn’t want her and had refused to pay the five thousand dollar ransom demanded by the outlaw. As the years went by, and no one had come to rescue her, she had started to believe it. In the end it became the truth.

  But what if everything Frank had told her was a lie?

  She didn’t have time to decide. A woman’s scream barely preceded the sound of gunshots, raised voices and the boom of a shotgun.

  Doc’s book thudded to the floor as he came awake and grabbed for the rifle.

  ‘What was that?’ he asked, fighting off the grogginess of a disturbed sleep as he ran out without waiting for an answer.

  Maggie hadn’t undressed but she had removed her boots and, quickly, she shoved her feet into them and blundered into the darkness after him.

  She found him standing in the doorway at the front of the building looking out on to the street. She could hear angry voices, several talking at once, drowning out the words.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she asked, angling in beside Doc for a better look.

  ‘Same as usual.’ He eased aside so that she could step out and see for herself. ‘No doubt someone will call for me in a minute.’

  A hundred yards away, two men stood in the middle of the street facing an angry group. In buildings all around, lights appeared at windows and doors and the night echoed with the sound of guns and rifles being readied.

  ‘You two best get the hell out of here,’ someone shouted.

  Maggie looked toward the speaker standing outside the saloon ahead of the other onlookers. A suited man with slicked back hair and glasses on the end of his nose, he leveled a double-barreled shotgun at the pair like he meant business. Others in the small assembly held pistols with varying degrees of confidence.

  The two men were outnumbered and they knew it. With a nod to each other, they holstered their guns and walked to where two horses were tied at the hitch rail.

  ‘We’ll be back,’ the darker of the two said as they mounted. ‘Any man that’s crossed us better make peace with his maker.’

  They kicked their horses into a
gallop.

  ‘You ever come this way again, you better keep riding,’ a woman shouted after them. ‘We ain’t got much of a town here but we don’t need your kind in it.’

  Doc stepped back inside, dragging Maggie with him as the horses thundered by and a bullet rattled the shingle that hung above the door. The man closest to them turned his head their way and Maggie shivered. Despite his sheer bulk and twenty extra years, he was a keen likeness for Walt McLean.

  ‘That was them,’ she said.

  ‘You don’t say?’ Doc quipped.

  A red head, wearing nothing but her underwear and a light wrapper, ran along the street calling for the doc. She pulled up short on the stoop, catching her breath as she brazenly raked Maggie with a critical eye. When she’d had her fill, she ran a hand through her curly hair and turned to Doc.

  ‘Bart says you’re needed right away.’

  Doc threw up his hands. ‘What did I tell you? Trouble with a capital T.’ He stood the rifle inside the doorway and picked up a black bag that was already there. ‘Stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  Maggie started to argue but there was no need.

  ‘Are you Maggie?’ the woman asked, scowling. ‘If you are, you better come along too because Rick’s asking for you.’

  Eleven

  Rick was slumped over a table with a damp cloth pressed against his head when Maggie and Doc entered the saloon. The woman rushed ahead of them and leaned in close to him, stroking his hair and whispering in his ear. Doc pushed her aside, pulled the pad away and poked at the bump on Rick’s forehead. It was the size of a small egg, red around the edges, nothing serious.

  ‘Bart Carver, you called me here for this?’ Doc shouted, his disgust evident as he slapped the damp cloth back in place.

  The suited man who had held the shotgun on Braddock and Harris stepped out from behind the bar. He cuffed the woman around the ear and started towards the stairs.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘He just hit his head when those fellers shoved him aside. It’s Sue-Anne I need you to take a look at. She’s upstairs. I can’t get her to wake up.’