Lucky Creek Lady

by Shirley Kennedy

Something had to be done, and fast. He glanced around. Not everyone had joined the frenzied mob. Bystanders lined the wooden sidewalk, faces revealing their shock and disbelief. Among them, Darcy spotted the three brawny Trenowden brothers, the ones he’d just hired. Just who he needed. He walked to where they were standing. “I need your help, boys. This isn’t right. We’ve got to stop them. Will you help?”

  Kenvern recognized him immediately. “You’re the boss.” He turned to his brothers. “Petrok, Steren, Mr. McKenna needs our help.”

  Steren nodded with respect. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Follow me.” Darcy plunged into the crowd, the Trenowden brothers close behind. He didn’t have much of a plan, but he didn’t need one. The Lucky Creek jail lay a short two blocks away. All he had to do was get the woman to the jail before the crowd overpowered the sheriff and his deputies. But considering the mob’s ever-increasing fury, that might not be easy. The brothers still close behind him, he battled his way through the ever-shifting, screaming throng, at times having to push bodies roughly aside. Finally breaking through, he found Sheriff Gibbs still shouting, “Get back! Get back!” The grim look on his face revealed his desperation. The small group had come to a near stop. Valeria’s fixed expression hadn’t changed. Either she was being incredibly brave, or she was in some sort of trance and didn’t know what was going on.

  “Don’t stop,” Darcy yelled to the sheriff over the roar of the crowd. “You’ve got to keep moving or we’re done for.” He turned to the brothers. “Petrok, you get on this side, Steren on the other. Kenvern, you and I will go ahead.”

  The brothers quickly took their places, Darcy and Kenvern close in front of the sheriff and the woman. “Out of the way,” Darcy began to yell. He took one step forward, then another. Would they get through? Maybe so, maybe not. This was a crowd made up of ordinary men gone mad. Crazy-eyed men fueled by vengeance, out for blood with murder in their hearts. Only the slightest thread of restraint held them back, and it could break at any moment. One thing in his favor: most of these men knew him or knew of him. As a mine owner, he’d gained a lot of respect in this town, but was it enough that they’d let him through? “Make way for the sheriff,” he called again.

  The small group progressed at a snail’s pace, but at least they kept moving forward. Each step seemed a miracle. Any moment a crowd like this could break its last restraints and go totally berserk. Despite the turmoil, the three big, strapping Cornishmen looked as if they did this every day. If they knew any fear, they didn’t show it. Their boss had given them a job to do, and they were going to do it, no questions necessary. As they inched along, the crowd seemed bent on tormenting the poor woman with constant threats and vile curses. An occasional member of the crowd, wild-eyed and snarling, would leap forward, fists clenched, trying to reach her, but her protectors easily shoved him away, never allowing even one of the lunatics close enough to touch her.

  They continued on, battling every step of the way until at last they reached the jail. The crowd grew even more enraged as the sheriff hauled the woman up the four steps to the wide porch in front. At the top, he turned to face the crowd. Darcy and the brothers stood by as he yelled, “This is as far as you go, everyone. This woman is under my protection, and she’s going inside.”

  Howls of protest went up. Darcy stepped forward, raising his arms to quiet the crowd. He wasn’t sure the mob wouldn’t overwhelm the small group standing on the porch at any moment, but he kept his arms raised until the noise faded enough that he could be heard. “Listen to the sheriff,” he yelled. “He’s only doing his job. This woman deserves a fair trial.”

  Hoots and hollers went up with renewed fury. Darcy called over his shoulder, “Get her inside quick.” As he watched, the solid oak door swung open just enough that the deputies, gripping Valeria, squeezed inside before the door slammed shut. As Darcy turned back, something struck him on the back of his head. The crowd surged forward. Stunned, he fell to his knees. Strong hands grabbed hold and pulled him up. The Trenowden brothers hovered around him. “Leebm lawn,” Kenvern called, which made no sense to him, but whatever he said, it worked, and the crowd backed off.

  “Let’s get him out of here,” Severn called. Hauling Darcy between them, with a mighty effort the brothers pushed their way through the raging mob until they broke through the edge and found a comparatively quiet spot in the side street next to the jail.

  Darcy stood straight, fighting to get air in his lungs. Feeling something wet on the back of his head, he reached to touch the spot and held up blood-covered fingers. “Somebody had a good aim.”

  The brothers overlooked his feeble attempt at humor. They gathered around, faces drawn with concern. Kenvern spoke up. “They be throwing rocks, sir. You’re cut bad. You need a doctor.”

  “I’ll be fine.” His cut hurt like hell. He reached for a handkerchief, dabbed at his head, and regarded the blood-soaked cloth. Pretty bad, but he’d take care of it later. The wound was nothing compared to the horror that poor woman was going through, and it wasn’t over yet. Mankind at its worst. He’d seen more than his share of violence in this world, but nothing compared to the brutality and ugliness of a lynching.

  * * * *

  Laurie and her family were shocked and dismayed by Agatha Harrison’s news about the lynching. Valeria had been a faithful employee, a bit eccentric, perhaps, but a fine cook, and she’d always been wonderful to the children. An argument soon ensued when they got around to discussing what they should do. When Laurie declared she should go see if she could help Valeria, Mother gasped in alarm. “You can’t. My daughter at a lynching? I am horrified.”

  Laurie wasn’t surprised at her mother’s fervent opposition. In Elizabeth’s genteel world, she’d never experienced violence of any sort. Laurie hadn’t either, for that matter, but this was Valeria, their faithful cook, and she couldn’t let it go. “But, Mother, we can’t just let her die. Valeria has been good to us. She loves us.”

  Elizabeth didn’t waver. “We mustn’t let our feelings get in the way of our common sense. A sensible young lady wouldn’t dream of getting herself involved in anything even close to such brutality. Besides, there’s nothing you can do for the poor woman. Even if we could help in some way, since when is it our responsibility?”

  Ada echoed their mother’s sentiment. Laurie went upstairs and talked to Hugh. He’d always thought highly of Valeria and greatly enjoyed her cooking but regarded Laurie as if she’d lost her mind. “Stay out of it, Sis. I’ve heard about lynch mobs, enough to know there’s nothing you could do even if you did go. Emery Finch was a no-good drunkard and a bully, but what does it matter? Valeria’s skin is brown, and they say she killed a white man. There’s no chance in hell that mob will let her go.”

  The family agreed they would stay home, lock the doors, and not come out until the whole appalling affair was over. Everyone but Laurie. After listening to all the sensible advice, she threw on a light wrap, jammed her bonnet on her head, and announced, “All the wise advice in the world won’t change me. I’m going. I can’t even imagine what Valeria is going through right now, but it must be horrible. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t at least try to help in some way.”

  No one spoke. They stared at her in astonishment. She was almost as surprised as they were at her words of defiance. Not like her to be so rebellious, but she was looking at things differently these days and meant what she said.

  She left without another word and headed, practically at a run, toward Mein Street, arriving just as the mob was passing the Gold Spike Hotel. Met with a deafening, frightening din of angry shouts and curses, she darted into a doorway, huddled in a corner, and gazed out at a mob gone mad. The family was right. This was far more dangerous than she had imagined. She’d been crazy to think she could somehow help, and at this point, she’d better hope she could save herself. Why hadn’t she listened to Mother, Ada and Hugh? But even they could
n’t begin to understand the cruelty and mindless violence of a lynch mob, the ugly taunts, the sight of a man grinning viciously, a rope in his hand, eager to hang her poor cook.

  As she watched, the crowd parted briefly, long enough for her to catch a glimpse of Valeria, hands bound, staring straight ahead while men cursed and raged around her. Was that Darcy? The Trenowden brothers? She could have sworn she caught a glimpse of them but couldn’t be sure. The crowd moved slowly by. She followed at a safe distance behind. They reached their destination shortly and came to a halt in front of the jailhouse. She slipped into a side street and watched as the sheriff hauled Valeria up the steps.

  She’d been right when she thought she saw Darcy. He was there, standing at the top of the steps next to the sheriff. She held her breath as he raised a restraining arm, trying to calm the crowd. When the jailhouse door opened, and the deputies shoved Valeria through, she breathed a huge sigh of relief. Valeria was safe now, and so was Darcy. When the rock hit him, she gasped and cried out, “Oh, no.” She tried to get to him but couldn’t get through the dense crowd. As best she could, she followed as the Trenowden brothers carried him away.

  * * * *

  Still on the side street, Darcy held his bloodied handkerchief to the cut on his head again. It was still bleeding. The crowd still milled about, still angry. “They’re not leaving.”

  Kenvern asked, “What should we do now?”

  Before Darcy could answer he heard a woman’s voice calling.

  “Darcy, Darcy!”

  He could barely hear over the noise, but he’d swear that was Laurie’s voice. He turned to look. Here she came, running, holding her skirt so she wouldn’t stumble, eyes wide with alarm. When she got to him, she clutched his arms like she was drowning, and he was her only hope. She tried to talk, but what with having to take big gulps of air, she couldn’t get the words out. Finally, she gasped, “Is Valeria safe now?”

  He broke from her grasp and gripped her shoulders. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Is she safe?”

  “They got her in the jail.”

  “I know, but will she be all right?”

  Darcy cocked his head to listen. The roar of the crowd still blasted his ears. The sound of glass shattering signaled the worst was about to happen. They were trying to break into the jail now, and they’d probably succeed. He gripped Laurie’s shoulders tighter still. “I don’t know if she’ll be all right, but there’s nothing you can do. Hear that crowd? They’re like animals now—totally out of control. You’re not safe here. I’ll have one of my men take you home.”

  Her eyes suddenly widened. “Your head’s all bloody. I saw when the rock hit you. You’re still bleeding.”

  “It’s nothing. It’s you I’m worried about. This is no place for a woman. I’d take you home myself, but there’s more I’ve got to do here.”

  “How could I leave now?” She reached for the lace hanky in her reticule and handed it to him. “Here, this might help. I saw how you faced that awful mob. I’ve never seen anything so brave. You saved Valeria’s life.”

  “All I did was give her another day on this earth, and maybe not even that.”

  “There must be something we can do.”

  “You won’t go home?”

  Her jaw set in a stubborn line. “No.”

  She meant it. He had no time to argue. “Stay here. Don’t even think of getting closer to that mob.” He motioned to Kenvern. “Take care of her, will you? I’ve got to go back.” He left before she could answer and shoved his way through the crowd again. Sheriff Gibbs remained outside. “Listen to me,” he was yelling over the continuing noise. “I promise she’ll have a trial.”

  He kept repeating his promise until finally the noise died down, and someone in the crowd yelled, “When?”

  “Tomorrow morning, nine o’clock.”

  “Where?”

  “Well…” Lucky Creek had no courthouse. The sheriff looked stuck for an answer.

  Darcy stepped up and spoke to him. “How about right here in front of the jail? Out in the open, so everyone can see. They can’t complain about that.”

  Sheriff Gibbs nodded in agreement. “As good a place as any.” More protests went up when he announced the location of the trial. More calls rang out.

  “Hang her now!”

  A ripple of rebellion rolled through the crowd. For the second time, Darcy raised his arms and kept them up until he got their attention. “California’s a state now,” he yelled. “This is America, and in America everyone deserves a fair trial.”

  “Not the Latina,” the man in black hollered back. He still held a rope in his hands and thrust it high. “Burn the jail down!”

  Would they never listen? Through some of sort of miracle, they’d managed to get Valeria inside, but the jail wasn’t all that strongly built. A mob like this could easily break the windows, smash through the doors. Or, like the genius in black suggested, they could set the whole place on fire. Darcy blew out his breath and threw his hands wide, ready to make one last desperate plea. Before he could open his mouth, two men came up the steps and joined him. He knew them both. The appearance of the Reverend Davies, popular pastor of the Baptist church, didn’t surprise him. But the other? Since when would ruthless Brock Dominick gave a damn about anyone who came from below the border, and a woman at that?

  Looking his usual splendid self in his frock coat and derby hat, Brock faced the crowd with an arrogant casualness that must have taken a lot of guts. “You all know me,” he said, and the crowd instantly quieted down. No wonder. Brock owned the biggest mine around. Doubtless many men in the crowd worked at the Coyote Mine. In his usual blunt manner, he started to speak, and the crowd listened. “My friend, Darcy McKenna, knows whereof he speaks. Are we savages? No! We’re a civilized nation now. Go home. Come back tomorrow. That woman has a right to a trial, so let her have one. What do you say?”

  Amidst irate howls, some in the crowd cheered. The Reverend Davies stepped forward and spoke, echoing Brock Dominick’s sentiments. At last, cries of dissension began to fade, and the crowd started to drift away. Someone raised his fist and yelled, “She’ll have her trial all right. Then we’ll hang her.”

  With a heavy heart, Darcy realized that was true.

  Brock Dominick slapped him on the shoulder. “Good job, McKenna.”

  “Same to you,” Darcy said, and added, “You surprised me.” He’d been more than surprised that a man so ruthless had spoken with such eloquence and vision.

  With a self-deprecating smile, Brock answered, “Sometimes I surprise myself. Justice makes strange bedfellows. These lynchings have got to stop, and it’s up to us, the men who love this town and want to see it grow.”

  Darcy nodded and turned away. He’d learned a lot tonight. Like Brock, he loved this town. He’d found his true home here, and he’d never leave. Laurie. Was she all right? He must get back to her.

  * * * *

  Laurie watched as the crowd dispersed. At least Darcy had escaped further harm, but what about Valeria? When Darcy made his way back to the side street where she stood, she asked, “Will she have a fair trial, do you think? If she killed Emery Finch, she must have had a good reason. Maybe they’ll find her not guilty and let her go.”

  “Not a chance.”

  His answer hit like a sharp blow to her stomach. “You can’t mean—”

  “They’ll give her a trial all right, but it’ll be a sham. You heard it a while ago. ‘She’ll have her trial all right. Then we’ll hang her.’ That’s about the size of it, Laurie. I wish it could be otherwise, but we live in a lawless town, and there’s nothing we can do.”

  “But the sheriff—”

  “He’s done what he can. Better than I expected, but he’s weak, and he can only do so much. Besides, he’s pretty much done his job. The trial is out of his hands, and it’ll be a m
ockery.”

  “Oh.” She bowed her head, shaken beyond words. She would like to cry in frustration, but what good would that do? Only seconds passed before she looked up again. A trickle of blood coursed down his cheek from the wound, reminding her how brave he’d been. “You could have been killed.”

  “But I wasn’t.”

  “You need that wound cleaned.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” He looked toward Kenvern who stood nearby. “It’s still not safe here. I’ll have one of the brothers take you home.”

  Home? She hadn’t thought ahead, but she did now. “I can’t go home.”

  “Why not?”

  How to explain? “My family thought I was crazy to come here.”

  “You were.”

  She ignored his comment. “Maybe I can’t visit the jail, but whatever else happens, I’ll be at Valeria’s trial tomorrow. It’ll help if she knows there’s someone there who cares about her. That’s the least I can do.”

  “Fine, but why can’t you go home now and come back in the morning?”

  “Because…” How could she explain? “If I go home now, they’ll all be after me not to come back. They mean well, but they’re relentless, and I just can’t talk to them right now. I’ll get a hotel room.” Thank God, she had money enough in her reticule.

  “Won’t they worry about you?”

  “Of course, they will.” She frowned in thought. “I’ll try to get word to them somehow.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll have one of the brothers take a message. Where do you want to stay? I’ll get you a room at the Gold Spike if you want.”

  Somewhere in the dim corner of her mind, a little voice was telling her that maybe what she was about to do wasn’t wise. Darcy lived at the Gold Spike. Going to a hotel with a man not her husband was definitely not a good idea, even though she would have a separate room. That was especially true now, considering her feelings for him had definitely changed. There’d been a time when she thought him despicable, but not anymore. That trip to Hangtown had totally changed her opinion. Maryanne wouldn’t be alive if not for the kindness and caring of Darcy McKenna. Now this latest. Seeing him defy that mob made her even more aware of how brave he’d been, with not a thought to the danger. No man could be more fearless and heroic, and besides all that, how had she not noticed before how very attractive he was? He even looked good with that trickle of blood down his face.