Stagecoach Western Write 10 of 15

10.

I took the guard duty on the Apaches. It was ironic for the view outside was still marred by the dark skies and the low light made visibility to no more than twenty paces. I could make out the well where I had risked my life to save the other. Sadly, it did not work to my liking. Mrs. Mallory died soon after giving birth. I was given the Spencer but my hands were still shackled.

“I can’t rest.” I heard the lady who stood next to me. I moved to give her some space. I was not uncomfortable for ladies who were always leaning on me once they learned of my reputation. Most ladies liked to be seen in my company but only for a short while. They will then return to the arms of their lover or husband. It was the final comfort of theirs.

“You may need the rest, Ms. Dallas. Tomorrow maybe…” I was cut off by the lady. She was a strong lady and earned my respect.

“The name is Martha Daryl. And Dallas is my assumed name. It was my protection from the prying eyes. And tomorrow I may die. That will give me many rest hours.” The lady’s reply made me laugh.

“Ms….. Daryl, are you sure we will die tomorrow? I doubt so.” I sounded optimistic. I am that kind of person. “Tell me what do you do in your other life?”

“I thought you would have known. I am a lady in the saloon. I am ….”

“A lady of comfort. I was to miss that out. You don’t behave like one. As a matter of view, you are more of a lady.”

“Compliments won’t buy you a night with me.” The lady once more surprised me. I pride myself as a gentleman when it comes to ladies.

“I won’t take advantage of you.” I cowered back into my corner. The lady was a fighter. Her display of the gun earlier spoke of her determination not to be backed down.

“No, Kid. You won’t.” Ms. Daryl replied. “Can I ask of your real name?”

“Walther Drew. I was raised in Ohio. I moved here during my herd trailing.” I told the lady. She was the second person I told my real name.

“So, the Kid name was given to you.”

“It was the gunfighter I killed. He was called Ringo the Kid. I had mine shorten to Ringo Kid.” I saw then the Marshall approaching me. He motioned for my hands and removed the irons. It felt good then. He then whispered to me.

“Bucks is not going to make it.” Marshall told me. “His wounds are fatal. Doctor Bone told me.”

I felt the sadness of hearing that. Ms, Daryl leaned on me when she overheard the Marshall.

“We will have to move tomorrow. The river is the only option.” Marshall explained to me. “It will be tough. We could be open to shooting and with our limited bullets we are on the losing end.”

I thought hard on the option. The ferry was a strung-up sawn logs to form a raft and the way to go across was the rope that connects both sides of the river banks. It had worked on normal trips but the previous night rain had swelled the river. During such flooding, the ferry will be suspended or to take the longer route down the river. That second option was not viable and the first one will be a challenge to go across so soon.

“I could reinforce the ferry. I saw the extra logs there. It may hold the stagecoach for us to cross.” I had crossed swelled rivers in my trail herding. We do normally wait it out but if needed, we will move the cattle in great numbers. The mass numbers will form a huge bulk and the cattle will stick to each other for strength. We may lose a few of the herd but the herd will survive.

“Okay get to it. I can’t help you. I got to watch the Apaches and these miscreants.” I nodded to the Marshall who had taken my post. I went to work in the middle of the night and was joined by the Doctor.

“You ain’t the only one who can’t rest.”

Inside the Outpost, Mr. Greenwood felt the eyes of Mr. Hitch was looking at his bag. He held it close to his chest with the rifle nearby. The later could hide his curiosity and approached the other.

“Mr. Greenwood? You are a quiet person. You did not shoot at the Apaches today and all you cared was the bag.”

“Do not meddle in my affairs. I won’t hesitate to shoot anyone who tries to approach me.” Mr. Greenwood cautioned the other.

“Hey, I was just asking. No offense meant.” Mr Hitch back off but his eyes were on the bag. He knew that it contained something valuable.

Maybe gold pieces.

Or dollars.

“It could be his wife’s ashes.” Mr. Hatfield found back his humor.

“He could be but tell what made you so defensive of Mrs. Mallory? Do you know her?” Mr Hatfield was to strike the other in the face for asking him that but he held back. He had made an enemy of one Doctor and a Marshall. He won’t risk another person among the small numbers there.

“Mrs. Mallory was a friend. And she was with a child.” Hatfield disliked displaying his emotions. He had buried his sister after she died with her child from illness. He was heart-broken and went into a series of gambling. His reckless approach had cost him some money and part of it was with his partner. That caused them to split to different tables. That split caused his partner to be shot. He never thought that anyone will shoot the Plummer Kid. The Plummer was a big powerful family in that town and the Kid gunned the young Plummer as if he was another shyster. He picked up the derringer for it will incriminate the other. He was sure if anyone saw him did that or if they did, they won’t go against the wrath of the Plummer family.

The Plummer family had confronted him soon after the Kid rode off. He was made to face the family head, Duke Plummer. The elderly man with many years of the hardship of building his empire looked hard at Hatfield.

“You were with him? What happened?” Those were simple questions by the grieving father.

Hatfield told them he had seen nothing before the shooting but he recognized the shooter. It was Ringo Kid. The Kid was in town soon after his head honcho traded the herd of cattle they brought in.

“The Kid rode off in a hurry.” Hatfield escaped with his life then. He took the stagecoach the next day on the afternoon ride. He felt the need to getaway. He did but could not stay away so he came back. And luck was on his side, the Kid was in the stagecoach. He wondered what the Duke will reward him fi he was to kill the Kid. He regretted his act on the Doctor. That exposed his ability to kill. He should have been more elusive. It was how he survived in his trade. All it took was a shot in the dark or the back when no one was looking. He was not a gunfighter but a killer. He needed a partner.

“Hitch right? Do you think the Kid deserved a trial? The Marshall could be helping him. You were there too.” Those few words were enough to start a deadly conversation.