by Alan Black
Grace said, “We’ll search along the hillside of Main Street first. We can look at each building front and the alleys between the buildings. There are too many places for them to hide if they pulled back away from town.”
LillieBeth said. “We can try the riverside of the street later. It should be easier to spot them if the town folk get up and start moving about.”
Grace ushered the girl through the front door and locked it behind her. “You cover me from one building to the next. I’ll walk downriver toward the stables and check each door and alley. Then we can move around and check the rear of the buildings upriver to the Oasis Bank and circle back to here.”
LillieBeth nodded. She made her rifle ready to fire.
Grace glanced between the sheriff’s office and the building next door on the eastside. It was the gunsmith’s office. She smiled. It was a good thing Zeke tried to burn the sheriff’s office from the dress shop on the west. This whole section of town would blow up if a fire took hold in the gun shop.
She checked the doorknob of the gun shop. It was locked. She had walked the town with Clayton more than once. She imitated his movements and rattled the door, checking to make sure it was locked and not just jammed shut. She peered through the small glass window in the door. It was dark, no lights were on.
She moved to the next alley and looked carefully. No one was in the space between the buildings. She poked a finger into a fresh hole in the wood. Her finger came away bloody. This was about ear height for Trance. It must have been where LillieBeth nicked his head.
LillieBeth’s mother had bragged how the young woman had won a shooting competition up in Branson just about a week and a half ago. She hit her target here, but not dead center. She wondered if the twelve-year-old had missed because she was shooting at a live person, if she was unfamiliar with the heavier Winchester lever action rifle versus her little .22, or if it was because it was dark, rainy and the wind was gusting around the buildings. Whatever the reason, LillieBeth had still made a good shot. Grace was certainly not going to complain. Clayton told her more than once that shooting at a man who was shooting back was a lot more difficult than shooting at bottles and cans.
She was just about to check the last building as she moved carefully eastward, before reaching the stables when LillieBeth pelted past her at a full run. The girl shouted and pointed across the street.
“Samson’s porch,” LillieBeth shouted. The young woman vaulted off the end of the sidewalk and splashed through waist deep water. The stable corrals were directly across Main Street from Samson’s Boarding House for Young Ladies. The floodwaters propelled the girl quickly to the corral fence.
Grace looked across the street and saw both Trance and Bobby John huddled in the doorway. The men looked wet and tired, but neither looked willing to give up. She pointed her Colt Peacemaker at the men. She doubted she could hit either man from this distance with a revolver. She was also very leery of shooting at a building with other people inside.
She glanced at LillieBeth. The young woman had worked her way into deeper water. She had climbed into the corral and was standing up on a lower rail resting the rifle against the top rail. She was ready to shoot, but she did not fire.
Trance knocked over a table and a couple of chairs. He and Bobby John crouched behind them. He shouted over the sound of the floodwaters. “You aren’t gonna take me alive. I’m not gonna hang. You’re gonna have to shoot me.”
Suddenly, the door to Samson’s brothel flew open. Samson’s man leapt through the door. He grabbed Trance by the neck and an arm and threw the man into the rushing floodwaters that swamped the street.
Trance came up sputtering water. He started to turn toward the corral, but the water pulled his feet from under him again. Trance came back up swimming. He was working his way toward the higher side of the street, but the rush of water in the middle of the street was carrying him down river faster than he could swim. He twisted and began swimming with the current rather than against it. The floodwater’s edge was still out of his reach when he was swept out of sight.
Samson’s man yelled, “I told you both to get off this property.”
McDonald tried to pull his revolver from his waistband. It was almost pointed at Samson’s man when the big man grabbed McDonald’s hand. The massive fist closed tightly over the smaller man’s hand. McDonald screamed as Samson’s man squeezed and he let go of the gun. Samson’s man backhanded him, sending him sprawling into the flooded street. McDonald struggled, trying to reach the high side of the street, but the swift water pulled at him, threatening to sweep him away. It was obvious he was not as strong a swimmer as Trance and he continued trying to reach the shallower water along the hillside.
LillieBeth shouted. “They are both going to get away.” The girl ran along the corral fence, climbed over it and disappeared into the stable.
Grace followed LillieBeth, but moved through the water and over the fence much slower. She was not a youngster used to running everywhere she went. She was strong and large enough that the water was not as much of a threat to her as it was to the smaller woman. She also had endurance and stamina, but not the swift explosive speed the younger woman possessed.
LillieBeth rode Fletch out of the stable door at a quick lope. The young woman held a long coil of rope in her hand. The other hand guided Fletch into the swift floodwaters. The huge Missouri Fox Trotter stallion hit the water with a splash. He high stepped smoothly along the corral fence, staying in the shallowest water at the street’s edge.
Grace may have imagined it, but she would swear LillieBeth and Fletch were both smiling. She followed along as fast as she could move through the floodwater in the street. She kept one hand on her Peacemaker and one hand on the corral rails, working her way around and up to higher ground. It was higher, but not much drier. She ran as fast as she could, trying to keep up with Fletch and LillieBeth, but the horse was leaving her behind as he ran at a ground eating pace, ignoring the deep mud and splashing wildly through the shallow edges of the flooding valley.
She saw LillieBeth rein her horse to a stop and uncoil a rope, throwing one end into the swollen river where it swamped over the road into town, tossing it as far as she could. The rope jerked as McDonald grabbed the loose end. LillieBeth took a dally around the saddle horn. She yanked her rifle from the saddle tie down and kept it pointed at McDonald as he pulled himself to the edge of the floodwater, twisting as he worked hand-over-hand through the swirling currents. He reached his feet, slogging through the deep mud buried in the water, only to have his feet swept out from under him again by the shifting water.
Grace reached LillieBeth at the same time McDonald managed to crawl out of the water. They were all wet from the rain, but McDonald looked like an overused dishrag. Trance had been thrown into the water before McDonald and there wasn’t any sight of him. The floodwaters could have swept him away into the river proper, he might have been able to swim out sight unseen, or he could have drowned. Grace doubted he had drowned, as he appeared to be a strong swimmer.
McDonald wheezed, “I’m all done in. I give up. You might as well arrest me; you’ve nothing on me anyway.”
Grace said, “We have a witness to your lynching of Odie Washington and your attempt to break Abe Braunawall out of jail tonight.”
McDonald shook his head wearily. “Lynching? It’s my word against that drunkard. You got no proof. And you got no proof I even shot at the sheriff’s office last night.”
Grace said, “I think I’ll arrest you anyway. We can leave the rest up to a judge and jury.”
McDonald said, “That’s fine by me. I’ll still be home before you are.”
Grace jerked him to his feet. “Let’s go.”
LillieBeth led the way on Fletch. The two managed a sedate walk, even though the horse looked as if running was be more to his liking. The horse splashed in the water with relish. He looked as if he enjoyed pushing against the current. The young girl recoiled the rope and held it lightly
in her free hand. Her rifle was back in its customary saddle tie down.
Grace was wading through water up to McDonald’s waist as she worked her way around to the stable’s front door. She pushed the man ahead with one hand and kept the other hand on a corral rail to guide her through the water. Halfway to the door she realized it was too late to change direction, without thinking, she had just followed the young woman. She should have gone around through the backdoor of the stable. The whole barn was still above the floodwaters, it was only the corrals that were flooded.
She glanced across at Samson’s Boarding House for Young Ladies. Mrs. Samson was standing there with her man. Grace waved her thanks at Samson’s man. Mrs. Samson waved back as if they were old friends greeting each other on the way to a quilting bee.
“Look!” LillieBeth shouted. She was pointing at the wide gap between Samson’s brothel and the next to the last building in the town on the riverside of the street.
A huge tree had been uprooted from upstream. The tree had lost most of its limbs and leaves, making it little more than a massive gnarled log. The log was a cluster of broken roots at one end and an odd collection of jagged limbs at the other end. It was rolling in the deeper and swifter water between the buildings and the river proper.
Samson’s man ran to the edge of the porch and caught a glimpse of the log. He grabbed a porch post with one arm and wrapped another arm around Mrs. Samson just as the log slammed into the building’s high stone foundation. The building shuddered with the impact. Both people on the porch would have been thrown off their feet if the man didn’t have a tight grip on the porch post. The building seemed to sigh as if in relief that nothing untoward had occurred and it settled back onto its foundation with a quiver.
The log twisted against the foundation and the water pushed it out of sight. Even over the sound of the rushing floodwater Grace could hear the grinding, snapping and breaking wood as the broken tree scraped its way along the base of the building. When it reappeared, she could see the roots had collected a smattering of broken lumber and scraps of debris.
With a high-pitched screech, the corner of the foundation of Samson’s brothel crumbled away. The small foundation rocks gave way against the rush of water. With a tiny gap to take advantage of, the floodwaters rushed under the house, filling the space, pushing against the foundation from both inside and out.
With a quiver and a groan, the building slipped off the foundation, canting at a wild slant. A crash yanked the building away from the porch, leaving the porch upright and stable. Mrs. Samson and her man kept their feet, as the man had not let go his hold on the porch upright or the fat woman.
A snap of breaking wood opened a wide crack in the building’s siding. Glass shattered, jolted and twisted in the window frames. The building stopped moving as one end jammed itself into the wet mud under the floodwaters. It left the building sitting at a wild angle. Even over the sound of the building being torn apart and the rush of the water, Grace could hear screams coming from inside the building. She didn’t know how many women worked in the place, but it was obvious they were in serious jeopardy if not already seriously injured.
LillieBeth pulled a long piece of cord from her saddlebags. She tossed it at Grace and pointed at McDonald. The young woman wrapped a loop of wet rope around the corner post of the stable corral and guided Fletch up the street, staying as much in the shallow water as she could. She played the rope out behind her as she went.
Grace wanted to shout at her to come back. She was positive Art and Clare Hazkit would not approve of her letting their daughter go into danger. When she realized she had been leading LillieBeth into danger since Monday, she did not shout. In truth, the young woman did more of the leading than Grace ever did.
LillieBeth reached the end of the rope and reined Fletch into the swirling flood water of Main Street. The horse moved smoothly, his powerful frame pushing through the water. As strong as the horse was the swirling flood waters pushed them sideways one foot for every foot they moved across the street. LillieBeth reached the other side of the street near Samson’s porch. LillieBeth urged Fletch forward. The horse bunched its muscles and leapt free of the water, slamming down with a board shaking crash onto the brothel’s front porch. The young woman handed the free end of the rope to Samson’s man. He tied it around a sturdy post, yanking on it to make certain it would hold.
Grace tied McDonald to a corral post in water up to his waist. She rejected the thought about dragging him into the stable. She decided a little more water would not hurt him. She grabbed the rope LillieBeth had strung and worked her way across the street, hand over hand, fighting the current that almost took her off her feet more than once.
She could hear LillieBeth arguing with Mrs. Samson.
The fat woman said, “I haven’t been on a horse since I was your age and I didn’t like it then.”
LillieBeth said, “This porch may not stay here much longer. The river is still rising. You need to get to dry land.”
Mrs. Samson said, “I don’t have enough hand strength to hold onto that rope against a strong current. And what about my girls?”
Grace climbed onto the porch. “I’ll get them out. You and your man get across. The stable is high and dry for now.”
Samson’s man said, “I can help with the women.”
Gruffly Grace said, “You can get Mrs. Samson to safety first.”
LillieBeth said, “If you will not ride Fletch, just shove your arm through this stirrup loop. He will get you across.” She led her horse back into the water in a little pocket of back water protected from the strength of the current.
Mrs. Samson relented and was followed by her man.
Grace watched Mrs. Samson’s man lead Fletch one handed with his other hand on the rope guiding them across. When they were well on their way without incident, she turned back to LillieBeth.
“You stay here on the porch and help the other women get across.”
LillieBeth said, “No, Mrs. Grissom. I am going with you if you are going in there.” Without waiting for a response the young woman tried the door. It would not open; it was jammed and twisted in the frame.
Grace put her shoulder to the door, but it would not budge.
LillieBeth moved to a window that was about half in and half out of the water. The glass was mostly gone. She grabbed her revolver and used the barrel to clear the remainder of glass from the deformed and warped frame. She slid through the window and into the damaged building. Grace followed. The floor lay at such an angle that all of the furniture had slid down to one end. It was all piled into a jumble. LillieBeth climbed nimbly over the furniture as if it was no more of a challenge than any Ozark hillside. Grace had to move stuff out of her way, clearing a path up the sloping floor.
LillieBeth pointed. “There. There is someone over there.” The girl disappeared back into the furniture pile.
Grace followed. She saw the girl speak to a woman, turn and duck under water. Grace swallowed. This building was unstable, as was every piece of debris piled up at this end of the floor. She slid in next to the woman laying there. The woman was barely dressed and laying half in and half out of the water. Even the wet clothing on the woman showed her every feminine attribute.
The woman looked up at her. “Who are you?”
Grace said, “I’m Sheriff Grace Grissom. Are you all right?”
The woman said, “I’m Vidalia and I’m fine. My dressing gown is caught on something and I’m good and stuck.”
Grace said, “Don’t worry; we’re going to get you out of here. That young thing is-”
“Hazkit,” the woman interrupted. “Yeah, I know her. She’s one tough piece of work. She killed Dangle and Ike Braunawall last week. I oughta know. I was there and seen it all. Aint’ she something? I’m not likely to ever forget her.”
Grace could not see LillieBeth in the dark water. She wanted to go in after the young woman but stopped as LillieBeth surfaced from the muddy water sputtering.
Vidalia laughed, “You remember me from last week?”
LillieBeth nodded, “Yes, you are the first… um… woman of your kind I ever met. I think I will remember you forever.”
Vidalia laughed, “Well, don’t that beat all? It’s almost like we be remembrance friends. Well, pull away Sheriff.”
Grace grabbed the woman under the arms and slid the woman free from the pile, careful only to touch the cloth-covered parts. She looked to the window. Samson’s man peered back at her from the opening. She pointed Vidalia that way and turned to look around. There did not seem to be any one else in the large room. It must have been the front parlor where customers... guests... clients... were greeted.
Grace shuddered, not from the cold and damp. She just never expected to ever set foot in a whorehouse, especially one canted sideways and threatening to be washed away by a flood. She had even spoken to a harlot and had not been struck down, turned to a pillar of salt or set afire by the wrath of God. In fact, the woman Vidalia had been quite pleasant, a little odd, but pleasant.
A creak and a snap of breaking wood gave notice of impending disaster as a crack appeared in the wall. Small items floated out through the opening until a small table fell across the opening, damming it up again.
LillieBeth pointed to an open arched doorway. “There is an inside stairway through there.” The doorway had been covered by beads that now hung at an odd angle.
Grace scrambled through the doorway with LillieBeth close on her heels. It was easier moving up the stairway, with a wall to lean against. There was a door at the top of the stairs. It wouldn’t open until Grace put a shoulder it. She shattered the latch around the frame and held the door open for LillieBeth to scramble into the hallway.
The stairwell led to a hallway with doors on both sides. The hall ran the full length of the building and ended at a wide staircase leading down. There were six doors along the hallway.