by Sharon Ihle
"Marshal. It's Tubbs, and he's a-coming this way, fast."
Morgan jerked Mariah off the seat and pushed her down to the floor. "Roll under the bench. And stay there." Then he turned back to the door and leveled the peacemaker toward the opening, just as the outlaw stepped into the compartment.
Spotting the barrel of the Colt immediately, Tubbs went into a crouch.
"Don't try it," Morgan warned as the man reached for his gun. "Put your hands on your head."
Tubbs froze, and then slowly raised his arms. Speaking to Artemis over his shoulder, he said, "Don't just stand there, kid. Shoot the son of a bitch."
Offering the young man the ultimate expression of trust, Morgan never even looked at Artemis. He simply smiled at Tubbs and said, "I wasn't aware you were acquainted with my deputy."
The outlaw's features tensed. "Your... what?"
"Meet Artemis Doolittle, special deputy for the United States Marshal's Office."
Artemis puffed up his chest, straining the seams of his shirt, and elbowed Tubbs in the back. "That'd be me. Now put your hands on your head like the marshal says."
His gaze darting to every corner of the compartment, Tubbs continued to raise his arms. As the train rounded a sharp bend, Cletus rolled off the seat and fell to the floor with a thud, his limp body trapping Mariah in the narrow little hiding space behind him. In her sudden terror, she screamed.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Tubbs went for his gun. He drew his pistol, but didn't quite find the time he needed to fire it. A bullet from Morgan's peacemaker slammed into his chest, driving him through the open door and flattening him against the wall across the aisle. He looked down at the crimson hole in his shirt as if to say, "Well, imagine that." Then he pitched forward, dead before he hit the floor at Deputy Doolittle's feet.
* * *
The death of gang member Tubbs didn't go unnoticed by the other passengers on the train. The female occupant of a nearby compartment opened her door, saw the dead man in the aisle, and screamed. The conductor was none too pleased about the goings-on either.
After several long, tense moments of testimony by Morgan, Artemis, and Mariah, the conductor finally accepted the fact that Morgan was indeed the real U.S. marshal, and that trouble lay just ahead on the tracks. He notified the brakeman to slow down, as the train was rapidly nearing the Needle Creek area, and then left the logistics of capturing the Doolittle Gang up to the marshal.
Tubbs was temporarily "interred" in an empty compartment, his shroud the sheepskin jacket Morgan no longer cared to own. Figuring it would be best for the time being to leave Cletus where he was, Morgan secured his bonds and then lashed him to the bench seat, wrapping the rope around him several times over like a spider rolling up a fly. When he was certain the outlaw would be incapable of causing any more trouble, he approached Artemis with an idea for bringing the rest of the gang in—alive, if possible.
Morgan leaned against the door, his gaze skimming Mariah's tense features before settling on Artemis. "We'll be at Needle Creek soon."
Artemis nodded. "Yes, sir."
"You've done a real fine job as my deputy so far. I want you to know that."
Artemis's troubled brown eyes lit up. "Thank you, sir."
"I also want you to know that if you decide to back out now, I'll understand. I can't expect you to take part in the capture of your own brother, especially since there's a good chance he could wind up like Tubbs."
Artemis cringed, and beside him, Mariah bristled. She said, "You sound as if you're going to ask him to do it anyway."
Morgan could hardly argue the fact, since it looked as if using Artemis might be the only way to surprise the rest of the gang. "I am," he said, careful not to meet her gaze. "But he has every right to decline."
"I ain't about to quit being a deputy. No, sir."
Seething inside, Mariah shot Cain a narrow gaze, but said nothing more.
A female's sense of fair play would not have counted as much as a bean in a bucket to Morgan just six months ago, but now he found he had to think over his plans for using Artemis a little better. Morgan sighed heavily, no longer certain he was worthy of the badge he'd taken back from Tubbs, and sweetened the deal.
"You can stay on as deputy as long as I'm marshal no matter what you decide to do, and that's a promise. Now here's what I'd like you to do. Once the train stops, the only way that gang will come in is if someone they trust signals them. If you don't do it, they'll smell trouble and take off."
Artemis shrugged. "Don't sound too hard. What am I supposed to do exactly?"
"Stand outside the train, I guess, or maybe up on the tender, high so they can't miss you, and wave the men in. Once you spot them coming, your job is over and you can disappear."
"Sounds okay to me, except for the one thing: If I disappear after the fellahs start coming at the train, who's gonna be left to round 'em up besides you?"
Morgan chuckled. "Me and my other deputy, 'surprise,' ought to be able to handle them, son. Don't worry."
"But there's three of them. Billy, Tate, and Shorty, and every one of them is meaner than a sidewinder on a hot skillet."
Touched by Artemis's concern, Morgan wondered, and not for the first time of late, if maybe he wasn't going soft. "I've faced worse odds and won. You just disappear amongst the passengers, and try to calm them if you can. Tell them you're an official deputy and that everything's going to be all right."
Mariah's agitated voice cut into the lawmen's conversation. "What about me? Can't I help in some way?"
Morgan didn't even glance her way. "You sure as hell can. Just stay right where you are and keep an eye on your fellow prisoner."
The train's whistles blew three short blasts, and then another long one as the locomotives slowly screeched to a halt, drowning out any protests Mariah may have had.
Morgan double-checked the peacemaker, making sure it was fully loaded again, and then said, "Time to go, son."
"Yes, sir." Artemis leapt to his feet.
"Wait a minute," said Mariah. "You don't plan to just leave me here unarmed and defenseless in the same room as this... this miscreant, do you?"
A frown building between his eyes, Morgan pulled Tubbs's pistol from the waistband of his jeans, glanced at her, and said, "I don't normally issue firearms to prisoners, and even if I did, you might be in more danger with this than without it. Are you sure you can handle a gun?"
Mariah glared at him. "What do you think?"
"My mistake, ma'am." Morgan touched the brim of his hat, with just a brief flicker of amusement shining in his dark green eyes, and handed her the gun. Then he and Artemis hurried out of the compartment.
Still seething, Mariah secured the door and then marched over to the window to let off a little steam. As she peered out, scanning the trees for signs of the other gang members, she muttered to herself, mimicking the marshal's voice. "Consider yourself arrested, Miss Penny." She brandished the weapon, threatening a thicket of aspens, their bright green leaves quivering in the breeze. "Such a know-it-all bastard, so arrogant, and... and..."
Mariah let the sentence die in her throat as she realized Cletus was not only conscious, but moving. And staring at her. She whirled on him, gun leveled at his head. He was twisting inside his bindings and shouting into the gag, and worst of all, he had those crazed blue eyes of his fixed on her, making her skin crawl.
"Shut up," she said, her voice sounding far more confident than she felt. "Shut up, close your eyes, and hold still right this minute, you hear me?"
Cletus quit struggling against his bindings, but he continued to talk into the gag, and even though she couldn't see his mouth, she knew by the way his expression rippled all the way up to his ears that he was grinning at her.
Her voice low and dangerous, almost a growl, she said, "Can't you see what a bad mood I'm in? Do you think I'd hesitate for one minute to shoot you, you miserable no-good bastard?"
Mariah thought back to some of the things Cletus had sai
d in Tubbs's hotel room, to the lewd comments and promises he'd made, and found the extra strength she needed to overcome the last of her qualms. In one swift movement, she slammed the grip of the pistol between both hands and swung the weapon in an arc until the barrel pointed directly at the outlaw's groin.
"Don't make me tell you again, you big sack of buffalo flop. It won't take much for me to make sure you never pester another woman for as long as you live." Her thumbs found the hammer of the gun. "So for the last time, shut your eyes and your mouth, and hold real still, or I swear—"
She cut the sentence off there, as further words were unnecessary. His body as rigid as the bench beneath him, Cletus grew silent. Then he squeezed his eyelids so tightly, his bushy brows practically kissed his cheekbones.
* * *
The gunfight itself, if it could even be called that, lasted for only ten minutes and featured just two casualties: Artemis, who did not take the easy way out by calming the other passengers, choosing instead to confront his brother; and the brother in question, Billy Doolittle, who left Morgan no choice but to let the peacemaker intercede on his deputy's behalf.
The wound Artemis suffered was superficial, little more than a bloody but insignificant crease in his upper arm. Billy, on the other hand, while in no immediate danger of passing from this world, would have difficulty walking in it for the rest of his life. When the elder Doolittle had taken aim and fired at Artemis, Morgan's peacemaker had responded in an instant, shattering the outlaw's right kneecap beyond repair.
That had made it Billy's lucky day, as far as Morgan was concerned. Six months ago, he would have aimed for his heart.
Once the gang was subdued, they were all incarcerated in the parlor car, away from the other passengers, where they could be openly observed by Morgan, his deputy, and Mariah. Tate, Cletus, and Shorty were tied leg, belly, and chest to individual chairs situated in a semicircle, looking as if they were seated at an invisible poker table. Billy, in such agony that he could hardly lie still, was stretched out on a plush couch of mauve velvet, his arms strapped to his chest even though his injury made escape almost impossible.
At Artemis's request, all four outlaws were gagged as well. Billy Doolittle's cruel and cutting remarks had cost Artemis more than one moment's pleasure, and he wasn't about to let him ruin his debut as a deputy.
At a table situated directly in front of the gang, sat the trio of guards. With Mariah at his left and his new deputy at his right, Morgan oversaw his prisoners from the center spot, the freshly loaded peacemaker laying directly in front of him on the table, should one of the gang members be fool enough—or get free enough—to test him.
Artemis, who was so excited he could barely stay in his chair, leaned in close to the lawman and asked, "Just how long is my sworn oath good for, sir? I mean, can I still be a deputy a little longer, or is it over already?"
Morgan considered the kind of life the young man had led up to this point even more heavily than he did the question, and after weighing the benefits against the obvious drawbacks, he said, "I'm not sure how much longer I plan to stay on as a marshal, son, so it's likely I won't be needing a deputy again."
Artemis's bright expression faded.
"But I tell you what," Morgan went on, recalling his promise. "How would you like it if I were to make you an honorary deputy?"
"'Honorary'? What does that mean?"
"It means you'll be a deputy for the rest of your life, but that you can't go around shooting or arresting people. I'll even make sure you get a special badge."
"Wow." Artemis scratched his head in the area of the cowlick, then seemed to suddenly remember something. "I'd be right pleased to be one of them honored deputies, Marshal. What about my job with the medicine show? Miss Mariah's daddy said he wanted me to stay on with them when the show packs up and heads to Denver, and well, I really like playing the banjo and all. Can I be a deputy and play music?"
"I don't see why not," said Mariah. "Zack could bill you as our 'lyrical lawman,' or something like that."
His eyes luminous, Artemis looked to Slater. "Is that okay? Can deputies be lyrical fellahs too?"
"Of course, son. The honorary title simply means that you're a hero."
"Me?" Artemis gulped. "People will think that I'm some kind of a, a... hero?"
"Yes, and I'll make damn sure that everyone knows what a hero you were here today. I couldn't have brought in this gang without your help." He offered his hand. "Thanks again, Deputy."
His chin quivering, and tears rearing to burst through his eyelids, Artemis quickly shook the marshal's hand, jumped out of his chair, and said, "I—I got to go, ah, outside a spell."
"I can take it from here. Go ahead, son."
As Artemis made his way toward the caboose, Morgan turned to Mariah. She immediately averted her gaze, but he caught the sparkle of tears, and knew that she'd been deeply touched by the young man's overwhelming joy. Until that moment, she'd been silent and withdrawn, completely uncommunicative.
In a way, he supposed he couldn't blame her. Not only had he arrested her, even if it was for her own good, but she probably hadn't forgotten all the hateful things he'd said to her yesterday—cruel, thoughtless remarks not only about her, but about her family and their way of life. He'd done everything but call her mother a madam, her father a pimp, and Mariah a whore. Morgan decided he was fortunate that she hadn't turned Cletus's gun on him and blown a hole through him when she had the chance.
He thought back to the things Artemis had said, particularly the part about the medicine show moving on to Denver, and sighed heavily. He wasn't ready for Mariah to go, nor was he prepared to ask her to stay, but the silent war between them had Morgan on the verge of surrender. He caught her in his gaze and said, "Haven't you wondered why I came looking for you in your room last night?"
Mariah shrugged. "I assumed it had something to do with Artemis."
"It didn't. Daisy came and got me."
Guilt-stricken, Mariah said, "My God. I forgot all about her. She ran off when Tubbs took me from my room. Is she all right?"
"She might have a sore throat, but other than that, she's fine." He went on to explain. "I heard her howling for a pretty long time last night before I realized it was her and that she was looking for me. I think she woke up the whole town."
"Umm, she probably did." Bone-weary and too exhausted to think, much less keep up this strained conversation, Mariah quietly asked, "What did you do with her?"
"I put her in your room."
"Thanks. I suppose I ought to be grateful you didn't take her over to the jail. Is that where you're taking me when we get back to Silverton?"
"Hell, no." His tone was sour, irritated. "I only arrested you to keep you out of danger. I thought you'd have figured that out by yourself."
As Mariah opened her mouth to defend herself, the train's whistle blew three times, alerting passengers to the fact that they were pulling into Silverton. Above the screech of brakes, Mariah asked, "What about my family and the medicine show? Do you still plan to prosecute us?"
At that moment, Morgan honestly didn't know what he planned to do with Mariah, or her family. He, too, was exhausted, and clearly in no condition to be making decisions of any kind. Before Morgan could even form a reasonable answer, Artemis dashed back into the parlor car, out of breath.
"They's a big crowd up ahead, Marshal. Look out the windows. They's lined up for blocks just to see us come in. When you wired ahead, did you tell them about me being a hero and all?"
"I'm afraid I didn't, son, but they'll find out soon enough." There was no point, Morgan thought bitterly, in telling him the crowd had gathered to watch the humiliation of the Doolittle Gang, not to pay homage to the men who brought them in. "But your work isn't over yet. You have another job to do, Deputy."
"I'm ready."
"The minute this train stops, you run get the sheriff. He's probably out with the crowd, but just in case he isn't, make sure he gets up here in a hurry, wit
h every available deputy he can find. I'm asleep on my feet."
"Yes, sir." Artemis saluted, and then bolted from the car.
Mariah, who'd been looking out the window as the train rolled to a stop, leapt up from her chair. "My mother and father are out there. They must be worried half out of their minds." With that, she ran out the door behind Artemis.
Keeping one eye on the outlaws, Morgan slowly rose and strolled over to the window. When he finally spotted the Penny family, the three of them were huddled together, hugging one another as if they would never let go. Arms still linked, they began to walk up the street toward the hotel.
Just before they disappeared from view, Mariah pulled away from her parents and paused to look back at the parlor car. She met Morgan's gaze for a brief, intense moment. Then she rejoined Zack and Oda and continued on her way.
Feeling as if he'd just been crushed beneath an icy mountain avalanche, Morgan turned away from the window. He hadn't spotted any of the things he'd hoped to find in Mariah's beautiful violet eyes; no regret, longing, or even a little dash of love.
He just saw good-bye.
Chapter 20
An hour later when Morgan walked into the tidy little white house at the end of Thirteenth Street, sleep was the farthest thing from his mind. Putting his life in order had suddenly become paramount to him.
To that end, he'd begun the process in Sheriff Teal's office after the Doolittle Gang had been secured behind bars. Morgan had laid his United States marshal's badge on the desk, and informed the sheriff that he was taking a long vacation—maybe a permanent one.
Now he passed through the parlor of the home on his way into the kitchen, and headed right for the stove. He lifted the coffeepot off of the burner and shook it. There was at least a cup left inside, and judging from the heat radiating up through the handle, it was still warm. He poured the remaining liquid, grounds and all, into a mug and then fell heavily into a chair at the kitchen table.
The little dining alcove sported a wide window which looked out on the backyard of the small home. As Morgan gazed through the peach organdy curtains, he spotted Amelia.