by C. A. Asbrey
She bridled at them, Nat’s insouciance getting under her skin. “Don’t patronize me. Will you two never learn? Pride comes before a fall, you know."
Nat raised his chin in challenge. "Let's not ruin the evenin’ with idle threats, darlin'. You got no back up here and you can't overpower us, so you ain't got a hope. It's best to part as we mean to go on. A woman is no match for two men. That’s why it’s good we all part as friends."
She frowned before she raised her glass and threw them a broad smile. "You know, I couldn't agree more. It’s no match at all."
♦◊♦
Quinn and Conroy walked out of the restaurant after breakfast, into the caustic winter sunshine glinting off the snow on Silverville. Nat pulled on his gloves. "It’s a shame she never showed. It would have been nice to say goodbye. I guess she was worried what would happen after the way I left her in Bannen.”
“Yeah.” Jake nodded. “To say goodbye, real civilized-like, would’ve been nice. Just for once."
"Yup, Jake. I guess she couldn't face us. The ladies are weaker than we are, and she couldn't bear another indignity."
"She’s had a hard time lately. First she got shot, and then you solved the link with the clothes and the saltpetre. Maybe we were too hard on her last night? What did you have planned this time, Nat?"
"Just my charm.” His smile crept up at one side. “And maybe a little extra, if it was needed. I had the feeling she had somethin' planned, but I guess I was wrong."
He stopped short as the sound of clicking metal told them the guns pressed against their heads were cocked and ready to fire. Their hearts dropped like lead as a sharp chill cut through them. The sheriff stepped out in front of them, his pistol drawn as he fixed them with a determined glare.
"Hands where I can see them, boys. Lemual! Take them guns."
Jake Conroy’s blood boiled as he felt a hand remove this weapon from his holster and Nat began a major charm offensive. His most glittering smile spread over his face as he hooked the sheriff with his most manipulative sparkle. "There's been a mistake."
"No mistake. We know exactly who you are. There's a warrant out for you, and you're comin' in."
Their shoulders slumped at the determination in his voice while the sound of rattling metal signaled handcuffs. Their arms were swiftly pulled behind them and their hands were tightly fastened behind their backs with bitingly cold steel.
"Move, and remember there are guns aimed right at your heads. One wrong move, and you're dead. We don't hold with your type in Silverville."
"Sir, there's been a terrible mistake."
"Nope. You're William Pettigrew and he's James Miller. You smashed the bar in Montgomery and caused nearly a thousand dollars worth of damage. The descriptions are very detailed and accurate, not to mention we got information you were in town. There ain't no doubt. You were identified by an eyewitness."
The two outlaws darted a look of relief at one another. It was a mistake, but they were far from being out of the woods yet if they were taken to the wrong jail. They might be recognized for who they really were.
“Pettigrew and Miller?” Jake shook his head in confusion. “You’re wrong. That ain’t us.”
“Was this eye witness a woman, by any chance?” asked Nat. “There’s a female who might want to settle a few scores with me by sending me to jail. I’m not Pettigrew.”
The sheriff grabbed the top of his arm and led him across the road to the jailhouse. “Nope. It were a man. A Frenchman. The waiter who served you last night. He knew you right off. He worked at the restaurant next door to the bar when it was trashed.”
“He’s wrong, sheriff. It’s mistaken identity.” Nat shouted. “We’ve been stuck in Pettigo. Both the sheriff and the doctor can back that up. We did some work for them.”
“Yeah, well. I got the owner comin’ in, and if we’re wrong, you’ll be free as a bird in a day or so. Come on. Over to jail, and behave yourselves. We’ll treat you as well as you behave.”
Nat turned and smiled at the sheriff. "As soon as he gets here you'll know you got the wrong men, Sheriff. How long’s he gonna be?"
"Town’s twenty miles away," he answered with a shrug. “I’m waitin’ for him to reply to my telegram.”
"So not long, then?"
"Depends. Ain't a train till tomorrow.”
"We didn’t do a thing," said Jake.
"Got any identification boys?"
They shook their heads dumbly as the sheriff smiled at them. "I guess we'll have to wait until the bar owner gets here."
Nat’s smile dropped from his eyes. "That's a long wait for innocent men, but I guess if that's what it takes to persuade you. We won't give you any trouble, Sheriff. We’re honest men. All I can say is, contact Dr. Fox and Sheriff Gibson. We just got stuck in Pettigo and worked there. They can confirm it.”
“If’n the owner can’t get here, I’ll do just that. Thanks, boys. Just relax. If you’re as innocent as you say, you’ve got nothin’ to worry about.”
♦◊♦
Nat lay back on the hard, lumpy mattresses in their shared cell as Jake paced about like a caged lion.
"Will you sit down, Jake? There ain't nothin' we can do about this, but as soon as the manager gets here, they'll know they got the wrong men and let us go."
"I hate places like this!"
Nat placed his hat over his face. "You think I like it? There’s nothing we can do but wait."
“You can pick the lock.”
“We’re law abiding men, remember? They don’t pick locks. We have a different identity when we’re relaxing, and we don’t need them looking at what type of men could pick the lock and send a posse after us. It’s snowy outside. A one-eyed toddler could track us through that. We’d do best to spend a night in jail and then head off with an apology when the manager gets here.”
"And what if they don't let us go?" growled Jake.
"They will."
"You don't know that."
Nat huffed under his hat. "Nope, but it's a waste of energy to worry too much about what we can't change. Let's see what we're dealing with before we start planning an escape. I’ve got a lock pick in my boot. We’ll get out when we have to."
"We shouldn’t be in here at all.”
"Lot of folks would disagree, but we're warm, fed, and saving money. All we’ve gotta do is wait until someone who was sober comes along to say we ain't Pettigrew and Miller."
A voice rang around the cell corridor. "Visitor for you."
They leaped to their feet and gathered at the door. "The bar owner here early?" Nat asked.
"Nope. A lady. A real attractive lady. I don’t know what she sees in you two."
He stepped back and Abigail walked into the cellblock dressed in a dark red suit, nipped in at the waist, with flashes of white lace trims at the neck and the cuffs.
"I can't let you in with them, ma'am. It’s against the rules. You speak to them from outside the bars."
She nodded in acquiescence. "Of course." The deputy hung around in the corridor as an impatient Abigail hooked him with an intimidating glare. "I wish some privacy."
"I gotta stay. It’s the rules."
She arched a brow. "I would suggest you go and fetch your rule book and show me the piece of legislation that says a perfectly innocent woman cannot have an unsupervised conversation. I have committed no offense. I’m not even accused of one."
"But, ma'am—"
"No ‘buts’. Go and fetch it. Show me in writing, then I will allow you to stay."
The deputy shuffled and looked at the ground before he spoke again. He was used to women who were in awe of his badge, but an imperious Abigail was an unknown quantity to him. He was as intimidated by her self-confidence as he was by her allure.
"Do I have to make a complaint?" She raised a challenging eyebrow.
"No, ma'am. I’ll go get it."
He turned and walked back to the main office to rifle through the books and documents to search for the l
egislation as so commandingly demanded by the scary harridan in the cell block.
“Get us out of here.” Nat pushed his face between the bars. "We thought you’d left town."
She smiled. "I'm sure you did. I was avoiding you."
Jake grabbed a bar. "Tell them we didn't smash that bar. Tell them who you are and get us out of here."
Her eyes glittered with amusement. "Now, why would I do that? I put you in here."
"What?" Jake’s mouth dropped open.
"Jake. Keep your voice down. He’ll come back in and he won't be so easy to get rid of this time."
"What the hell are you playin’ at, Abi," Jake hissed through clenched teeth.
"It was the waiter.” Nat’s frown visibly transformed into a gasp of realization. “The sheriff told us it was the waiter."
She smiled with irritating faux sweetness. “Yes, at least he thought it was. When they go back to the hotel he'll realize the man he spoke to was considerably shorter than the actual waiter. He'll also realize slightly effete men are not the type of men he pays a lot of attention to until now. As soon as he sees the real thing he'll know it wasn't him. He's four inches taller than me and has blue eyes, for a start. The waiter and the chef told me all about the bar being smashed up. It was the most exciting thing they’d seen in years. It was easy for me to slip a fake warrant with your descriptions in amongst his papers under the guise of trying to help the sheriff find it."
He sucked in a breath. "You? Why would you do this to us?"
"Why? Because you spent all last night crowing about how clever you were and how I couldn't compete. Not only that, but you told me you were ready to use a prostitute if a grown woman had been available to you. What do you think any woman would do when she hears that?"
Jake’s jaw dropped open and gawped at his nephew. “You told her that? How dumb are you? I raised you better’n to tell a woman you wanted a prostitute.”
“I was trying to be straight with her.”
“Straight to jail, you saphead.”
Abigail cut in. “Gentlemen, you’ll have plenty of time to argue when I’m gone. You taught him not to tell?” She glared at Jake. “How about not using them in the first place? Women may not hit as hard, but we hit lower, and you needed a gentle reminder not to take me for granted. This is it.”
Jake’s hands closed around the bars. "As soon as I get outta here, Abi, I'm gonna teach you a lesson. Nuthin’ like we had before; I’ll treat you decent, but somethin’ where you eat some crow. I’m caught in the middle of you two and your dimwittery. This ain’t right. You need to sort this out.”
She smiled and stroked his hand before pulling back quickly as he clutched out at her. "This is no worse than anything I’ve been through at your hands, and you did contribute to this."
Jake folded his arms. "And what if we're recognized? We could do twenty years.”
"Relax. I’ll stick around until I know you're released, and I'll step in and identify you as innocent parties if it goes wrong."
"And if you can't?”
“That's not going to happen. Trust me. Those men have already been arrested. The waiter told me that, too. As soon as the bar owner responds to the telegram, you’ll be released.” She held out a green book. “I brought you a book so you don’t get bored." She reached out and slipped it onto the bunk before scuttling back out of arm’s reach.
Nat examined the cover. “The Count of Monte Cristo?”
“Yes, it’s about a man unjustly imprisoned.” She chuckled. “I thought it was apt.”
“I’ve read it.” Nat’s dark eyes burned through the bars. “It’s mostly about his revenge. Even more apt.”
She shrugged. “I needed to teach you a lesson. You’ll be fine.”
“Fine?” Jake kicked the cell door. "How many times have I heard that from Nat? I don't need it from you, too."
"Look, you’ve lost respect for me and made it clear you think I'm either unwilling or incapable of locking you up. Did you really think I'd let you get away with that? I’m going back to work, and you need to take me seriously. A few hours in jail should focus your minds nicely on what I could be capable of. I’ll make sure it’s no more than that."
Nat shook his dark head and glowered at her. “I thought we'd reached an understanding."
She grinned at him. "We have now. I’m perfectly able to deal with you two. I think I've proved my point as neatly as you did when you handcuffed me to the door. We can fence, but we both have power."
Nat huffed with irritation. "Abi, is this all about you tryin' to prove you're equal to us?"
Her eyes widened in outrage. "Equal? I would never want to be equal to you. It’s far too much of a drop."
Jake dropped onto the cot in resignation. "Very funny."
"You’ve got your strength, cleverness, and your ability with guns." She flicked a look at them both in turn. "I've got different talents, just as viable as yours, and I won't be patronized. Take me seriously.”
"Abi, get us out of here now, or I won't be responsible for my actions." Nat’s lips drew into a snarl.
She narrowed her eyes. "You should have thought of that last night. ‘We'll walk out of here tomorrow without a worry. You're weaker than us, Abi—you're not going to come after us anymore.’ What did you think I'd do? I won't let you or anyone else walk all over me, and you'd better realize that before I go back."
Jake turned and slumped on his bunk. "Nat, you're supposed to be the brains of the outfit. Where’d you get off makin' her so angry?"
Abigail's eyes twinkled fondly at him. “You're better than the brains. You’re the heart."
"Yeah, right." He dropped his head into his hands. "What was it you said about being patronized?"
She stepped forward with an envelope. "As promised. An address. It’s a friend. If anything like that ever happens again, get a friend to contact that lady. She’s a lady surgeon who used to train female Pinkertons, but she’s retired now other than a few choice patients. I hope you never need it. She'll be sympathetic, but well able to deal with any of your tricks. She’s impartial and you can trust her. I do. There's also money for a train ticket each to get out of here."
The deputy came clattering back into the cell block bearing a book as Nat snatched the letter and hid it under the lumpy mattress. "I found it.” He thrust the book in front of her and pointed to a section with his cracked, grubby finger nail. “See. Females are to be attended at all time with male prisoners to prevent impro—impr—improperty."
"Impropriety. Do you know what that means?"
He fixed her with a vacant, open-mouthed gape as uneven, discolored teeth oozed methane like a malodorous, broken piano. "No, ma'am. Is it givin’ them stuff?"
“In a way, yes. How would you know if we did it if you don’t understand the word? And that's a book of guidelines for you. Since when was it legislation? That's not the law. It's only a book."
Confusion swirled in his eyes as he stabbed at the words with a dirty fingernail. "But that's what it says."
"Don't beat yourself up about it, pal. She's always like this. She's a nightmare.” Nat glowered at her.
She patted the deputy’s arm. "Well, you don't have to worry about it. I'm leaving. I got tired waiting for you to come back."
"You sure, ma'am? I'll see you out."
"Abi."
She turned as Nat called out after her with a menacing smile. "This ain't over."
“Threats? We have a saying in Scotland. The cock crows but the hen produces.”
Nat’s eyes flashed. “What did you just call me?”
She tinkled with soft laughter. "What did you say as you left me in Bannen? Until next time?"
"Will you two leave it out?" Jake said. "Otherwise, I'll lock you both in a room and not let you out until you sort this once and for all!"
Nat and Abigail turned to him, surprised at the vehemence in the blue eyes which burned into them, in turn. "You think I don't mean it? Try me. I’m fed up with the pair
of you. Ain’t neither one of you gonna hurt the other, so face it and treat each other with some decency. Now, I'm gonna have a sleep until dinner and when we get outta here, we’re even." He threw himself back on the bunk and stared hard at Abi. "It's a clean slate Abi, one for us, and one for you. I hope you got that. Let's keep it that way."
“Got it. Goodbye, Jake.” She nodded and smiled at Nat before she slipped away along the corridor.
“Sheesh.” The deputy stared after her. “She’s a looker, but I ain’t sure she’s worth the bother. Find an easier one.” Their jailer turned on his heel and strode back to the office. “That’d be almost anyone.”
An almost imperceptible tinkle of metal made both men glance at the floor. Nat’s brows met as he leaned over and picked up the thin metal tool. His cheeks dimpled as he turned to his uncle, grinning with delight. “It’s a lock pick. It was in the spine of the book. She passed us a lock pick.”
“So? You’ve already got one.”
“She doesn’t know that, Jake. She’s making sure we’re okay. She’s gonna make sure we get out of here in good shape.” Nat’s face dimpled with delight. “Oh, she’s in for it when I catch her. She’ll pay for this.”
Jake turned on his side, wrapping his pillow around his head. “Dear Lord. Will it never end? Keep me out of it, Nat. That’s all I ask. Now, shut the hell up so I can get some sleep.”
About The Author
Chris Asbrey has lived and worked all over the world in the Police Service, Civil Service, and private industry, working for the safety, legal rights, and security of the public. A life-changing injury meant a change of course into contract law and consumer protection for a department attached to the Home Office.
In that role, she produced magazine and newspaper articles based on consumer law and wrote guides for the Consumer Direct Website. She was Media Trained, by The Rank Organization, and acted as a consultant to the BBC's One Show and Watchdog. She has also been interviewed on BBC radio answering questions on consumer law to the public.