by Joe Slade
He grabbed his neck, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was too late as the blood gushed out of him. He couldn’t follow when Maggie crawled across to where Leo lay unconscious. She lay down beside him, holding his hand as she listened to Braddock die. When he had taken his last strangled breath, she surrendered to her own peace.
Twenty-Six
Eight weeks later
In a room above the saloon, Maggie pulled on her boots and stamped her feet in to them as she crossed to the window. She twitched back the curtain just enough to see along the length of the main street. It looked as it always did this early in the morning, deserted except for the feral dog that seemed to stand guard over the town. She stood a moment longer, watching the sunrise until a knock sounded at the door.
‘Are you coming down for breakfast, Maggie?’
‘I’ll be there in a minute, Leo.’
She smoothed the lines of her navy shirt and pants but didn’t bother to check her appearance in the mirror. Not that she could with it faced against the wall. Instead, she took the gun belt from the post at the end of the bed and buckled it on, settling the Schofield in its holster at her waist before leaving the room.
Downstairs, the saloon’s new owner Tubby Burke was behind the bar pouring coffee from a pot. He looked up and smiled.
‘Mornin’, Maggie. Sit yourself down and I’ll bring it over.’
She passed by, noticing a man in a grey suit reading a newssheet at a table in a corner at the back of the room. He wasn’t anybody she recognized and he seemed not to pay her any attention.
Leo was already seated at their usual table near the window. He pushed a chair out with his foot as he craned his neck to see out in to the street.
‘Anybody new in town?’ she asked, wondering about the stranger.
Leo shook his head and settled as Tubby brought the coffee over. The barkeep stopped for a minute to take their breakfast order, not really needing to. It never changed. A cool breeze wafted in as someone entered through the split doors and he took his leave.
Doc’s long slender fingers squeezed her shoulder gently. ‘Mornin’, Sunshine.’
‘What’s on the menu?’ Rick asked, dropping in to the seat on her left.
‘Eggs,’ she said. ‘Same as usual.’
They ate together as they always did, exchanging idle chitchat, although not much happened in Shaw’s Creek Crossing, especially since half the town had cleared out. Still, Maggie sensed that something was different this morning. Lack of a topic rarely interfered with their banter but today the conversation seemed stilted, the breakfast eaten in haste.
‘So what’s going on?’ she asked, when Leo and Rick made their excuses and wandered off to talk to Tubby.
Placing his elbows on the table, Doc rested his chin on steepled fingers. She recognized the look. It was like a dog eating a wasp and never heralded good news.
‘Come on, John, you might as well come out with it.’
He smiled. ‘I guess so, since you only call me that when you don’t want any nonsense.’ He took a breath, frowning as he glanced uncertainly towards the bar. ‘We’ve decided it’s time we all moved on.’
‘I’m happy here,’ she said, flexing her hand as she pretended to examine the fading pink scars on her palm.
‘No, you’re not. You’re just afraid to leave.’ He placed his hand over hers, demanding her attention. ‘What happened changed us all, Maggie. Look at Leo. He’s fifteen going on forty. Rick sleeps with a lamp burning beside his bed. And you hide yourself here.’
‘I’m recuperating.’
He gave her a skeptical look. ‘I’m your doctor as well as your friend, Maggie. Your wounds are healed. The only thing stopping you from moving on, is you.’
She chuckled. ‘Is that all? And where would I go, looking like this?’
She gestured towards her face. Braddock’s handiwork had cost her dearly. The crook in her nose, the scars that crisscrossed her cheek—she could have learned to live with those. It was the loss of her eye that she couldn’t come to terms with.
She tapped the leather patch Doc had made for her. ‘I’m pretty sure this is not the height of fashion.’
Usually the guilt at not being able to save her eye was enough to stop him talking but not this time.
‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Maggie. The bounty money on Braddock that the sheriff is holding for you is enough to take you wherever you want to go in style.’
She hadn’t asked for the reward and she didn’t want it. It was an argument they had already exhausted and she didn’t feel like fighting with him.
‘Well I want to stay here where people don’t stare and point at me like I’m some kind of freak,’ she said, simply.
Her coffee mug wobbled as he slammed his hand down on the table. ‘Damn you, Maggie! You’re not a freak. You’re a survivor and that’s why it hurts me to see you hiding away in this town. The Baldwins and the O’Hares pulled out yesterday. Pretty soon it’ll be just the four of us and that dog.’
She shrugged. ‘I’m not keeping any of you here.’
His chair toppled over as he pushed to his feet. It was rare that he lost his temper but when he did, it was pure theatre.
‘Excuse me for interrupting. I wondered if now might be a good time to introduce myself.’
Maggie didn’t look up but she knew from his grey suit that it was the man who had been reading the newssheet.
‘Now’s not a good time,’ Doc told him.
The man ignored him. ‘My name is Archibald Cavanaugh,’ he said, holding out his hand to Maggie. When she didn’t take it, he awkwardly withdrew it. ‘I’ve been eager to meet you.’
Maggie kept her face averted as she got to her feet. ‘As my friend said, it’s not a good time. If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Cavanaugh.’
A hand touched her elbow. ‘Actually, I’d rather not. I’ve been looking for you for a long time, Miss Stanford. You are Margaret Anne Stanford formerly of Flamstead Junction, are you not?’
It was a name she hadn’t heard used in a long time and it stopped her dead in her tracks. She thought about denying it, but curiosity got the better of her.
‘What do you want, Mr. Cavanaugh?’ she asked, without turning around.
‘Your father sent me. I’ve come to take you home.’
Twenty-Seven
At the table by the window, Archibald Cavanaugh looked uncomfortable, but not intimidated, seated between Rick and Doc. A good-looking man in his late thirties, his collar length blonde hair was starting to thin and his neatly trimmed beard was shot through with grey. His blue eyes never flickered as his gaze fixed on Maggie. If her unsightly appearance bothered him, he didn’t show it. Yet she had the feeling that he was looking through her, not at her.
He had asked for a private meeting, looking displeased but resigned when Maggie insisted on having her friends present. Despite agreeing to talk with him, she felt uneasy, maybe even afraid of what he might have to say.
He cleared his throat. ‘I am a private detective employed by your father’s attorney. It’s been my job to follow up any lead where the name O’Bannen is mentioned.’ He took a sip of coffee and dabbed at his upper lip. ‘Obviously, when I heard the name Maggie O’Bannen it got me wondering and I came here as fast as I could. It appears my persistence has paid off. That I’ve found you now is most opportune timing.’
It was quite a speech and he seemed to be taking a lot for granted. Maggie wasn’t sure she fully comprehended the situation.
‘Why?’ she asked.
He looked somber. ‘Your father is dying, Miss Stanford. According to the doctors treating him, he doesn’t have more than a few weeks left. For him to see you …’ He cleared his throat. ‘For him to see you one last time, I’m sure would ease his passing.’
The news hit her hard despite the years she had spent hating him because he had refused to pay the ransom. At least that’s what she had believed. Even now, she was skeptical of what this stranger was telling her
.
‘So he wants to ease his conscience?’ she asked.
Cavanaugh looked confused. ‘His wish has always been to see your safe return. To be honest, I’m surprised no one has found you before now. Twelve thousand dollars is a considerable reward.’
‘Twelve thousand?’ Leo gasped.
‘The original figure was five, I believe, but it’s increased by a thousand with each year of Miss Stanford’s disappearance.’
She still didn’t believe it. ‘Do you mean he’s been looking for me since I was taken?’
‘Precisely.’ Cavanaugh pushed his coffee cup away. ‘So what do you say, Miss Stanford? When will you be ready to leave?’
For a moment she had felt jubilant, sucked in by the realization that her father had never given up on her, but now her spirits sank.
‘I need time to think about it.’
Her reluctance obviously surprised him. ‘Not too long, I hope. I meant what I said about your father’s remaining time. There’s also the matter of your father’s estate. If it hasn’t been proven that you are still alive at the time of his death, his money and holdings will revert to his wife. If you change your mind at a later date, you’ll have no claim.’
‘His wife?’
‘Yes. He remarried a few years ago. I’m sorry to press you, Miss Stanford, but there’s a train leaving Flitwick tomorrow morning and I’d very much like to be on it.’
It was a lot to take in. ‘Come back at noon and I’ll give you my answer.’
He stood and nodded. ‘Very well. There is just one other thing. Obviously, I will need to know for certain that you are who I believe you are. Your father told me to ask you something that only he and his daughter would know. Will that be a problem?’
She was sure she knew what the question would be. She remembered the answer, although it had been a long time since she had indulged in childish fantasies. Instead of bringing back fond childhood memories it only made her current circumstances more abhorrent.
‘Noon, Mr. Cavanaugh,’ she stated.
After he took his leave, it seemed that for once Doc had nothing to say as they all digested the news. Even Tubby kept his distance, leaving their coffee cups empty and denying them his usual dry wit.
‘Nobody’s got anything to say?’ she asked, when the silence became unbearable. She waited for a few seconds then stood up. ‘I thought this was what you all wanted, for me to leave this place and start again.’
Still no one said anything.
‘I’ll be in my room,’ she muttered.
As she mounted the stairs she heard a chair scrape across the dry boards and the split doors bang. Looking back she saw Doc disappear in to the street then reappear briefly as he marched by the window. She sighed. Just for once, she wished he had said something.
~*~
It was almost noon when Doc returned. He had been walking around town, going nowhere in particular and noticing nothing. Only when he had reached the remains of his old building did he stop for a while. The explosion had leveled the place. How he and Rick had survived with only cuts and bruises had been a subject of conversation for weeks after the event. He hadn’t dwelled on it much at the time. He was alive and that was all that mattered.
At least, he had thought that was all that mattered. When they had brought Maggie to him, beaten almost to death, he had realized that there was something more important to him than his own life. The thought of losing her had been torture and when she had seen the extent of her injuries for the first time, he had felt her pain.
The pain he was feeling now was all his own. On the one hand he was glad for her. She deserved to go home and be with her family. On the other, he would lose a friend. He didn’t kid himself. Even if she stayed, he realized that was all he would ever be. Maggie O’Bannen was too independent, too scarred by her experiences with men to ever let one get close to her in any other way.
The clock on the wall struck noon as he pushed through the split doors into the saloon. Maggie was standing at the bar, holding a glass of whiskey in her hand as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Cavanaugh was at a table stuffing papers in to a bag. He didn’t bother to fasten it before he walked out, nodding politely to Doc as he passed.
‘Where are Leo and Rick?’ Doc asked joining Maggie.
She shrugged.
He ordered a glass of whiskey and drank it down. ‘So when are you leaving?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘I thought Cavanaugh was in a hurry.’
She nodded. ‘He’s leaving in an hour.’
Doc sensed something wasn’t right. ‘What happened?’
‘Nothing much.’ She didn’t sound bothered.
‘Something must have happened.’
‘He asked me his question.’ She turned to face him, a smile twitching the corner of her mouth. ‘I told him I wasn’t ready to give him an answer.’
It didn’t make sense. She had obviously been warm to the idea when Cavanaugh gave her the facts.
‘You didn’t want to see your father one last time?’ he asked.
‘Very much so but I don’t want him to see me. He deserves to remember the girl who had dreams not the woman who has nightmares.’
‘Maggie, don’t—’
She cut him off with a wave of her hand.
‘Don’t say it, Doc. That’s just a fact, but you were right. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. If you and Rick and Leo want to leave, I’ll go with you, if you still want me to.’
The doors banged as the other two came in, roughhousing. They had grown to be like brothers despite their age difference.
‘Pack your bags, boys,’ Doc shouted. ‘We’re leaving. All of us. Together.’
Leo let out a whoop.
‘Where are we going?’ Rick asked.
Doc stepped aside. ‘Yes, Maggie, where are we going?’
‘I was thinking about visiting Flamstead Junction.’
Doc frowned. ‘Are you sure? You just let that detective walk out of here thinking he had the wrong person.’
‘I’ve never been more sure of anything, Doc.’ She finished her drink in one swallow. ‘For better or worse, I’m Maggie O’Bannen—and I’m through living my life on other people’s terms.’
MAGGIE O’BANNEN 1: DAYS OF EVIL
By Joe Slade
Copyright © 2017 by Joe Slade
First Smashwords Edition: November 2017
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
Cover image © 2017 by Tony Masero
Visit Tony here
This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book
Editor: Ben Bridges
Text © Piccadilly Publishing
Published by Arrangement with the Author.
About the Author
Joe Slade is a pseudonym of multi-published author Joanne Walpole. Joanne’s first western was published in 2005, after friends badgered her in to sending it off to a publisher. To her surprise, it was accepted immediately and since then she has written five more westerns, one civil war drama and a collection of contemporary shorts published under her own name and the better known pen-name of Terry James.
Joanne holds a BA (Hons) in Business Studies and, after working for many years in the print/packaging industry and then in further education, now works part-time to achieve a better work-life balance. She is happily married to Terry and lives in central England. Her hobbies include reading, walking, current affairs and, of course, writing westerns.
Maggie O’Bannen will return … soon!
But the adventure doesn’t end here …
&
nbsp; Join us for more first-class, action-packed books.
Regular updates feature on our website and blog
The Adventures continue…
Issuing new and classic fiction from Yesterday and Today!
More on JOE SLADE