Boone Creek

by Graysen Morgen

  She pulled on her suspenders, followed by the garters on her arms to hold the puffy sleeves of her shirt at bay. Ike, over at the Fashionette, had delivered her new, custom-sized suit, the day before. She couldn’t have been happier to be wearing clothes that fit, albeit, still a little loose.

  After buttoning her vest and clasping her tie, she glanced out the window again, noticing Bert, pacing back and forth in front of the two-story bordello. She gave him an odd look and tapped on the window pane, but he didn’t look up. She strapped her gun belt around her waist and secured her Colt Peacemaker revolver in the holster on her right side. Checking the window again, she saw Bert was still pacing. She shook her head and slipped her coat on. After one last check to make sure she had everything, she grabbed her hat and left the room.

  “He’s been out there for about an hour,” Lita said, running her hand down Jessie’s arm as she passed by.

  Jessie spun around on the stairs, eyeing the Mexican harlot. The front of her red and black skirt was cinched up high, showing off the skin of her thighs, just above the black stockings she wore. A black, over bust corset with red lace trim, gave her torso an hourglass shape. Her dark hair was pulled up in the back with curly strands hanging down near her ears on both sides. The natural, olive skin of her face was covered by layers of make-up. Jessie opened her mouth to say something, but walked away instead, donning her hat at the front door.

  “You could’ve come inside,” she said, meeting Bert in the street. “I’m a border with a room, not a paying customer,” she chided.

  “I’ve never been inside one of those,” he mumbled.

  Jessie raised a brow and pinned him with a stare as she shifted her weight to one foot, resting her hands on her gun belt. “For the love of all things pleasurable, please tell me you’ve had sex at some point in your life, Bert.”

  “Wha…” He cleared his throat. “Why do you ask? And yes…of course,” he huffed, sounding frustrated. “I am a married man.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Yes, I am… to a proper lady.”

  “As opposed to…what?” she questioned, ready to smack him if he spoke ill of her.

  “Those women in there,” he said, nodding his head towards the brothel.

  “Everyone has to make a living doing something. Don’t piss on someone until you’ve heard their story,” she scolded.

  Bert looked away. “The mayor is looking for you.”

  “He knows where to find me,” she said as she began walking towards Center Street.

  He fell instep next to her. “He came by the office and asked me to come get you.”

  “Then he’s not looking for me, he sent you to get me.” She checked her pocket watch. It was 10:15 a.m. “What’s her name?” Jessie asked, nodding to a few town folk near the stable when they turned onto Main Street Curve.

  “What? Who?” Bert questioned, looking around.

  “Your wife,” she groaned, shaking her head.

  “Oh…Molly.” He smiled.

  “How did you and Molly wind up in Boone Creek?”

  “We’re originally from the state of Missouri. My cousin Grimsby was heading west with dreams of California. She and I tagged along, looking for a life of our own. We split with Grim in Red Rock. He went on, and we settled here after about six months in Red Rock. What about you? What brought you to Boone Creek?”

  “This was as far as I could get on a half-dead mare,” she answered honestly. Bert just stared at her. “I need to go see what the mayor wants. I’ll meet you back at the office,” she added, parting ways with him at the curve.

  ***

  “Do you smoke?” Mayor Montgomery asked, offering Jessie a cigar from the box on his desk as he grabbed a match from the holder nearby, striking it on the side and lighting his smoke.

  “Can’t find a reason not to,” she answered, taking one of the tobacco sticks. She picked a match from the holder, just as he had done.

  “What do you say we get down to business, shall we?” he said.

  Jessie nodded as she lit her cigar.

  “I agree that our town laws are lacking. We certainly need more structure. However, I believe adopting Frontier Law is not the way to go. Wait,” he said when Jessie moved to speak. “Let me finish. I received a telegram this morning from Justice Walker T. Samuelson. He’s an old friend,” he added, blowing out a puff of white smoke. “Anyway, he advised me to stay within the laws of the Colorado Territory for major crimes, but I can certainly up the ante if I want to for petty crimes. With that said, here’s a list of changes I feel we should make.” He slid a piece of paper across the desk. “I welcome your input, of course.”

  Jessie read over the laws. Most of them were meager punishments like simple fines and jail time. “What’s different?” she asked.

  “Higher fines and longer jail sentences.”

  “You do know most outlaws aren’t sitting on bags of money, right?”

  “Exactly my point. If they can’t pay the fine, they’ll have to do jail time. Marshal Milton was a good man, but he sat back and let people get away with too much. Over time, that gets out of hand and we find ourselves in our current predicament. The town laws aren’t really changing, we’re just strictly enforcing them from now on, along with harsher punishment. Hopefully, this will begin to deter some of the petty thugs we deal with on a daily basis.”

  “What about the more serious crimes like murder, rape, theft, manslaughter—”

  “Those who commit major offenses will be transferred over to Red Rock. The territory judicial system will take it from there, more than likely sending them to the The Colorado Territorial Correction Facility up in Denver.”

  “This sounds like an awful lot of steps,” she muttered, shaking her head.

  “Jessie, we can’t just go around shooting everyone who breaks the law, or hanging them just because. We don’t have a judicial court here because we’re a small town.”

  She pinned him with a stare.

  “There’s a system in place and we have to follow that. Now, if someone is firing a gun in public and you can’t get them to stop on their own, or someone draws on you, then by all means, do what you must. But trust me, a life in the Territorial is much harder for them than getting sent to Boot Hill in a pine box.”

  “How many outlaws have been sent to Territorial from here?”

  “None,” he replied. “That’s why I hired you. The bandits who think they run this town have a choice to make the next time they come here running amuck.”

  “Territorial or Boot Hill?”

  “Correct.” He smiled.

  “What about more deputies?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “It’s just not in the budget, right now.”

  Jessie tightened her jaw and folded the paper, shoving it inside her inner coat pocket. “I’ll get the new law signs hung up before the sun sets,” she said, standing to leave.

  ***

  A few nights later, Jessie sat at a table in the back corner at the Rustler’s Den, sipping a cup of coffee, anticipating a long night, while she watched the patrons dancing, drinking, gambling, and otherwise having a good time. Most of the town folk hadn’t had much to say about the new law signs. As long as they didn’t carry a gun within the town limit, or do anything stupid, the new punishments didn’t affect them.

  “You’re going to piss a lot of people off,” Lita said, sitting on the edge of the table with her leg up against Jessie’s, giving her a nice view of the ample bosom pushing up out of the top of her corset, and bare skin of her upper thigh.

  “How so?” Jessie asked, taking a long look at the offering.

  “Threatening these men with the Territorial or Boot Hill isn’t a good idea.”

  “It’s not really a threat, and I didn’t make it. These laws have been here since the town was established. They’re just now being enforced.”

  “Order a drink,” Lita said.

 
“What? Why?”

  “Otherwise, it looks like I’m sitting here conversing instead of selling.”

  “Oh, you’re trying, but it’s not working.” Jessie’s mouth turned up in a half grin.

  Lita raised a brow. “Maybe I should try harder.”

  Jessie shook her head. “I’m afraid my night is full.” She winked and tipped her hat as she stood up.

  Lita grabbed her arm. “There’s always next time.”

  “You seem to have an admirer,” Jessie said, noticing the piano player on the other side of the room hadn’t taken his eyes off Lita since she sat down.

  “You mean, Clayton?” Lita laughed. “He wants to ride off into the sunset together.”

  “What’s wrong with that? Isn’t it what most women want?”

  “Do I look like most women?” Lita raised a brow.

  Jessie shook her head. “I guess I don’t either,” she replied, pulling free from her grasp.

  “No puedes decir que no para siempre. You can’t say no forever,” she said.

  “Nunca he dicho que no. I never said no,” Jessie countered, walking away.

  NINE

  It had been over two weeks since the signs were posted, and so far, the town folk were adhering to the laws and leaving their guns at home. Jessie had still spent most nights breaking up fights between miners and ranchers at the gambling tables, promising to ban them from the town if they didn’t knock it off.

  “It’s finally quiet out here,” Bert said, walking beside her as they turned off Six Gun Alley onto Center Street, taking their usual evening stroll through town.

  “It’s still early yet,” she replied, checking her watch.

  “Pearl Hall is busy,” he muttered. “Must be the new show.”

  “Let’s check it out,” she said, heading in that direction.

  The large theatre was bustling with people when they entered. There were five wall to wall rows down front by the stage, several tables in the back behind them, and balcony boxes on both sides. Every available seat was taken, leaving standing room only by the door.

  Jessie waved off a dancing girl, headed towards her, serving drinks. She leaned against the back wall, resting her hands on her gun belt, as the next act in the show began. Tobias Freemont, the theatre manager, stepped out from behind the curtain. “Please welcome the Bennett Sisters, a traveling act from San Francisco,” he said.

  The pianist began a soft melody on the upright that sat beside the stage platform. The handful of violinists next to him joined in as Tobias opened the curtain. Three women appeared as the drapery began to split, all with dark-brown hair, braided and twisted up in a bun with a feather sticking out on the side. They wore low-cut, off the shoulder dresses with small bustles. Each of them wore a different color, one in blue, one in yellow, and the other in pink. Their hair feathers matched their dresses, as did the paper fans they waved near their faces.

  The men in the rows down front hooted and hollered as the women smiled, winked, and blew kisses. When the song tempo rose to a more upbeat, saloon-style tune, the women began a choreographed dance. They twirled around the stage, holding their skirts, and kicking their legs out in an exciting performance. The audience cheered and clapped in time with the music. It wasn’t long before the rowdy men in the front began to get out of hand. Two of them reached onto the stage, trying to grab the women, while another pulled a pair of pistols from his waist belt, firing them each twice in the air. Spectators began to disperse in all directions.

  “Damn it,” Jessie growled. “Come on,” she said, leading Bert through the scattering crowd.

  “This one’s mine, boys! You can have the other two!” the man with the guns yelled to his two followers who had been trying to grab the women. He held the woman in blue tightly against him.

  “Hand over the pistols and let her go!” Jessie yelled, finally making her way down front. “Bert, take the flank!”

  “Oh, come on, now. We’re only trying to have a little fun,” he said.

  “Give me your guns!” Jessie growled.

  The man had the woman in his left arm, still holding a pistol in his left hand. With the second pistol in his right hand, he began to move his arm.

  “Don’t you draw on me, it’ll be the last thing you ever do,” she sneered, holding her hand on the ivory grip of her pistol. “Give ‘em here, now!”

  Neither Jessie nor Bert saw the other two men scurry off with the last of the crowd as Jessie flashed her badge.

  “You’re under arrest for carrying a gun within the town limit and discharging a gun within the town limit.”

  “You can’t arrest me,” he laughed. “I’m not scared of no law lady.”

  “I’m not going to ask again. Give me your guns,” Jessie yelled.

  The woman in his arms stomped on his foot, causing him to jerk around. She ran as fast as she could once she was able to wiggle free. The man spun in her direction, firing the gun three times. The dancing woman had already gone behind the curtain, out of sight, but the theatre manager had been close by, trying to help her escape. He was hit in the upper right chest by one of the bullets, and quickly fell to the floor.

  The shooter glanced down at the bleeding man as Jessie pounced, knocking him to ground. Both of the guns he was holding went off during the struggle, ricocheting bullets off the walls as Bert and Jessie wrangled him into the handcuffs and kicked the pistols away.

  “Holy shit,” Bert mumbled, holding the outlaw still while Jessie ran over, trying to stop the blood leaking out of the hole near the theatre manager’s shoulder.

  “Hold on, Tobias. Doc Vernon is on the way,” she said, hoping someone had summoned the town doctor. She took her coat off and held it over the hole, pushing down as hard as she could to keep pressure on the wound. “Get that piece of shit out of here,” she said to Bert.

  ***

  By the time Doc Vernon had arrived from the other end of town, Tobias had nearly bled out. He cut the wound open right there on the stage floor, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was too late. Tobias was pronounced dead ten minutes later, some twenty minutes after being shot.

  “You did all you could,” Doc Vernon said, wiping the blood from his hands before placing one on Jessie’s shoulder. The sleeves of her white shirt were bright red with blood, as were her hands. He handed her a clean rag.

  Mayor Montgomery arrived with Pastor Noah not long after.

  “Who did this?” the mayor asked.

  Jessie shook her head. “I think I heard the other two guys call him Shamus or something like that, before they ran off. He’s over in the jail, so I’ll find out in a bit.”

  “Shamus…Shamus Maguire?”

  “You know him?”

  “He’s the leader of the Dirty Boys Gang. He usually comes through here about once a year, laying claim to whatever he thinks is his. He robbed the hotel the last time he was here. Thankfully, he didn’t get much because it had all been transferred to the bank that morning.”

  “Why wasn’t he prosecuted?”

  “Walt Milton couldn’t catch him…or wouldn’t try. Who knows.” He shrugged.

  “He’s going to hang for this. I’ll see to it myself if the justice disagrees,” she said in a low tone as she picked her hat up off the ground.

  After giving Tobias’s body last rites, Pastor Noah walked over to them.

  “I thought you weren’t Catholic?” Jessie said.

  “I’m not, but Tobias was. He still came to my church every Sunday anyway. What about you, Marshal? Any religious beliefs I should know about?”

  “Nope,” she said flatly, sliding her hat onto her head. She grabbed her bloody jacket from the floor as Tobias’s body was carried away. She removed the couple of things from her pockets, and tossed it in a trash barrel. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  Both men watched her walk all the way to the exit.

  “I pray for her,” Pastor Noah said
. “Every night.”

  “Because she’s a not a proper woman?” the mayor asked.

  “No.” Pastor Noah shook his head. “Because there’s something deep down inside of her that makes her do what she does. Something I don’t think any of us could ever understand.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Call it preacher’s intuition.” He smiled thinly.

  “Maybe she had a bad childhood,” the mayor said. “All I care about is her bringing law and order back to this town. And so far, she’s doing a hell of a good job. Pardon my language, Pastor.”

  “Oh, no pardon needed. Hell is but a word, unlike any other, in my book.”

  “Do you disagree with me making her town marshal?”

  “Quite the contrary, actually,” Pastor Noah replied. “I think she’s good for this town.”

  ***

  Jessie had put her arms in a trough outside of the theatre, wetting her shirt sleeves from the elbow down to rinse out some of the blood. The tinged sleeves of her shirt, along with her gun and badge being in plain sight from not wearing her jacket, made her look quite menacing.

  “Ohhh, Lady Law got herself into a mess now,” Otis uttered as he stumbled around near the stage office, across the street from the theatre.

  “Give it a rest you old bag, before I dunk you again,” she sneered.

  “I could have charges brought on you for that!” he yelled.

  Jessie spun around with her hand on her pistol. “Give me a reason…I’ve had a bad night, so it’ll only take one,” she said through gritted teeth as her fingers tapped the ivory grips.

  “Hey, I don’t want any trouble,” he stammered holding his hands up.

  “Go dry out somewhere,” she snapped, turning and heading towards the Marshal’s Office, which was somewhat adjacent to the theatre, and on the corner where Main Street turned into Main Street Curve.

  All was quiet at the General Trade as Jessie walked past. She glanced up at the window to the second floor, pausing briefly when the curtain shifted.