Firelands-The Beginning

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-6-08

 

Annette drew the folded shirt from her trunk, held it against her face.
It still smelled like her brother.
She knelt before the trunk, tears soaking into the soft cloth, muffling the sounds of her grief in the folded garment.
Alone, lost, bereaved of the family she loved, Annette Messman cried hard, drawing what comfort she could from a simple folded shirt that was almost all she had left of her brother.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-7-08

 

Esther was many things: of all the things she was, the one thing in which she took a particular delight was the dance.
As a dancer she was coordinated, she was strong, her balance was perfect, her responses instantaneous: when her husband, the Sheriff, suddenly seized her upper arm and spun her behind him, behind the shelter of a cotton-bale, she went with the move, spinning gracefully with a flare of her skirt and her weight on her toes; she gauged the distance between her nose and the bulkhead, added a little more spin, hit flat on her back on the wall behind her and used the momentum to bounce right back out on the deck, just as the Sheriff's revolver spoke for the second time and blood sprayed from the side of his neck.
Esther felt its warm stickiness on the side of her face, and she seized the Sheriff under the arms and fell back, allowing him to land atop her: she rolled a little just before hitting the deck, and the Sheriff tried to stop his fall, but couldn't: she seized up a handful of petticoat and shoved it hard against the left side of his neck, her hand firm on the right side, trying to stem the hot flow of life that was rapidly pooling in her hand and running out on the deck.
Jacob's face was white and set as he turned, and Esther saw the same look in his eyes that she had seen in her husband's: the boy was a man, but a man chiseled of quartz, hard and cold: he turned, and she remembered years later at the speed of his turn, and how his coat tails flared out: he strode away from her, his jaw set and his scalp tight, searching out those who would do harm to his father.
Esther pressed harder, biting her lower lip, frustration gnawing at her soul: what she was doing was vital, she knew, but there was so much blood, so much blood ...
"Don't you die on me, Linn," she whispered fiercely. "Don't you dare die! I will not allow it!"
There was the sound of running feet, shouts, a shot.
Esther looked up.
A stranger stood in Jacob's clothes, revolver overhead, a pure-white doughnut of gunsmoke rolling upward from his gun-muzzle. He'd turned back his lapel to display his badge, and his voice rang with rightenous authority.
"I AM A DEPUTY SHERIFF," he announced. "MY SHERIFF IS SHOT, I NEED A DOCTOR, NOW!"
A blocky man shouldered his way through the gathering crowd. "I'm a doctor! What's the .... oh, I see." Where Jacob was bristling with tightly-controlled energy, the doctor was suddenly calm, and drew off his coat.
"Keep your pressure on the wound," he murmured, pressing practiced fingers against the Sheriff's temple for a few long moments.
"He was shot in the neck," Esther protested, sotto voce, and the doctor pursed his lips and grunted; he made a swift assessment, drawing the Sheriff's coat open and asking "Was he shot anywhere else?"
"No, I don't think so."
The Doctor looked up. The Nantucket whalers had made their way to the fore by less than gentle means, and the Doctor exercised his authority under the existing draft laws: "You four, pick this man up -- carefully, now! -- and bear him to his cabin. Madam, where is your cabin?"
"On the right, two doors down," Esther thrust her chin to indicate the portal.
"I will to my cabin, Madam, my satchel is there," the Doctor said with a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder. "Do you keep pressure on the wound, you are doing a fine job."
The Nantucket whalers moved with a smooth precision that told Esther they had been obliged to bear wounded comrades in the past. They placed themselves, and at a low-voiced command, raised the Sheriff to chest height, and began side-stepping towards the stateroom.
Esther moved with them, never lessening the pressure on her husband's wound. Jacob preceded the procession: his glare was enough to melt people from his way like snow before a flame.
The whalers were obliged to twist a bit, going through the doorway, to admit their bulky bodies and the Sheriff's as well, but they managed.
They lay him on the unmade bed, Esther managing somehow to keep the wad of petticoat in place, and the Doctor was in the room with them.
"Light," he said. "I shall need light. Fetch that lamp yonder, and that stand, and place it on yon side of the bed." He reached up and drew the curtains from the window.
Jacob stood without. There would be questions asked, answers demanded. Already a crowd was gathering and gawking around the two carcasses.
Jacob saw two men with badges sprinting for the gangway. He put two fingers to his lips and whistled: a long, high, piercing note.
They stopped in mid-stride, looked around, looked up.
Jacob waved to them, then threw back his lapel.
The tin star glowed dully against the dark material of his coat.
The two waved, and proceeded more slowly up the gangway.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-7-08

 

I was relaxed, but cold, so cold ...
Esther's voice, far away, barely hear her ...
Don't you dare leave me, she whispered, and I felt her hands warm on my neck, and I coughed ... my throat tickled ...
"Hush, now," came the whisper, "ssshhhh ..."
I slipped out of my body like a man sheds a worn cloak, and I lay on the ceiling, and I watched the busy little assemblage flowing in and out of our stateroom ...
I watched, interested, as the doctor bade Esther press here on my neck, above the wound, to stanch the blood while he did something with shining tools and sutures, and I watched the white-coated porters bringing in fresh linens and taking out bloodied linens, and I looked through the wall at the deck, and even in my disjointed state I smiled, for Jacob stood there, giving a calm and factual account to two brother lawmen, and he was so tall, so grown ...
A fine son, I thought.
Suddenly I was tired, so very tired, and I could hear the sound of marching feet, and I could feel my comrades, my brothers in arms who had died in such horrendous numbers, and I felt them near.
Is it time? I thought, and the earth fell away from me on a long, shining arc, and I was in the Valley, and I felt I was home.
I felt her behind me, and I turned, and I was young again, and strong, and Connie stood there, and we seized one another and I picked her up and spun her around, and her feet swung out as they always did, and she was warm and solid and real in my arms ...
I heard a little girl's giggle, and a young woman's laugh, and I set Connie down, and I saw Dana, my little Dana, and I saw her at once as the child she had been, and the fine woman she would have become, and I reached for her as well ...
You cannot stay, the voice whispered, and the voice was infinitely old, and infinitely wise, and infinitely sad.
"I don't want to go back," I said, and my voice was that of a child, but the knowledge was upon me that my work was not yet done, and then I heard a baby's cry, and I looked around, puzzled ...
In the distance, a young woman on a mare, a great, gold-red mare, and she carried a rifle, my rifle, and I saw a star on her vest, and I looked down, and it was my star she wore.
Puzzled, I looked back at Connie, and she was gone ...
I fell through eternity, back into my body.
Esther was beside me, grieving into her kerchief, and I reached up with a palsied hand and touched her arm.
Her eyes snapped open, big, alarmed, and suddenly her arms were around me, and I knew all would be well.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-7-08

 

The doctor's hand was heavy on Jacob's shoulder.
"I'm sorry, son," he said. "There was nothing I could do."
The color drained from Jacob's face and he sagged back against the stack of wood that had sheltered the bushwhackers.
"Dead?" he whispered hoarsely.
The doctor nodded.
Jacob took a step toward the cabin door but the doctor held up a cautioning hand: "Give your mother her time, son. Give her this time alone to grieve."
Jacob's composure crumbled, and for a moment he went weak, and almost to his knees: somewhere, somewhere deep within he remembered his father, tall and strong and facing outlaws and bandits and screaming defiance as he galloped headlong at the man who sought his life, and Jacob thought, I will not be weak!
The two constables shifted from one foot to the other. Neither of them had lost a partner before, neither had experience on the frontier; still, they recognized the loss of a brother lawman, and they both removed their covers, out of respect for their fallen comrade, and out of support for the wooden-faced deputy before them.
Jacob turned to the constables. "I need to send a telegram," he said. "Which way is the nearest telegraph office?"
They offered to take him there.
Jacob nodded and they went past his cabin, where he picked up his rifle, and together they left the River Queen, and to the railroad office, for what was the hardest duty Jacob had to perform thus far in his young life.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-7-08

 

TO JACKSON COOPER DEPUTY FIRELANDS SHERIFFS OFFICE FROM JACOB KELLER DEPUTY FIRELANDS STOP SHERIFF AMBUSHED AND MURDERED MORE LATER END

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-7-08

 

"This one is Dandy Dan Carsey," the Chief Constable said, puffing thoughtfully on his clay pipe and regarding the two corpses on the undertaker's slabs. "This one I've never seen, but I'll dig up the wanted posters. Might find something to match." He looked closely at Jacob. "Kind of young to be a deputy, ain't you?"
Jacob's look was enough to silence the man.
"Never mind," the Chief Constable muttered. He cocked his head, looking at the two holes in each corpse. "Nice shootin'."
"Not nice enough," Jacob rasped.
"That's right, your Sheriff was killed," the Constable nodded. "Friend o' yours?"
Jacob's eyes were flat, expressionless. "He was my father."
"I'm sorry to hear that." The Chief Constable puffed on his elder-stemmed pipe. "There's a reward for Dandy Dan here. Something to do with dirty dealings with his banker brother out West."
"Banker, you say? Firelands Bank?" Jacob asked, his brain suddenly working again.
"Why, yes, I believe that's the one."
Jacob nodded. "My father arrested, tried and convicted the man, and sent him to prison. He was killed in prison, matter of fact."
"Do tell!" The Chief Constable looked at the two purpling corpses. "Think the two were related?"
Jacob shook his head. "I don't know, sir. I do know an enemy back East printed up some wanted posters with my father's name on them, claiming he'd murdered a man back in Chauncey."
"Who did he kill?"
Jacob looked up and smiled thinly. "According to the dodgers, the man he hired for his chief deputy. Matter of fact he's acting Sheriff now."
"So the man your father is supposed to have killed is alive and well and serving as his chief deputy!" The Constable shook his head, injecting an incredible volume of blue smoke into the atmosphere.
Jacob considered his options. "You said there's a reward for Dandy Dan?"
The constable grunted, nodded. "Fifteen hundred dollars in gold. Might be something on this other character."
"I'd like to collect on Dandy Dan. Wire the rest to the Fireland Sheriff's Office and have them hold it for his widow."
The Constable nodded. "You don't want it?"
Jacob's eyes were half-lidded. "I'm headed east, sir. Someone murdered my father. I intend to find out who."

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-7-08

 

Duzy's teacup hit the floor, shattered.
Bonnie looked up, alarmed, and Duzy's violet eyes were huge, and alarmed, with a look of shock and almost terror at something well beyond the opposite wall, and tears started rolling down her pallid cheeks, and Bonnie saw Duzy's hands were shaking.
Duzy sat down hard, head bowed, shoulders sagging.
She buried her hands in her face.
Bonnie grimaced as she labored out of her own seat, and walked with the rolling gait of a near-term mother over to her dear friend, and knelt beside her.
Duzy buried her face in Bonnie's shoulder, and a groan was wrung from her very soul.
When Duzy was able to finally come up for air, and she put words to her grief, Bonnie's eyes began to sting and to flood, and each held the other, for they both knew, with that mystic intuition bred into women, that the terrible thing Duzy had seen, had just happened.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-7-08

 

Lightning's pencil moved with its usual precision; his block print was his trademark, his handwriting was known for its legibility and its uniformity. Indeed, the man took pride in his handwriting, both script and print, but he printed for the telegraph, always and invariably: it was his contention that a man had to be able to read everything that came over the wire, and no mistakes, whether that mistake be in listening, or copying, or writing.
He reached for the key, tapped an acknowledgment, and re-read the message.
Lightning stood and opened the office door. Winter air swirled into his warm alcove.
He called for his son to sit the key while he delivered the message to the Sheriff's office, and his son buried the ax-head into the splitting-block and came trotting over to his father.
Lightning looked at the yellow form in his hand. It wasn't the first time he'd delivered bad news, but this was perhaps the worst news he'd ever delivered.
At least I don't have to notify the widow, he thought.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

 

Charlie MacNeil 2-7-08

 

Since Charlie had seen Jacob off to the station the town had been pretty quiet. He'd seen the sweet young lady kiss Jacob goodbye and the picture seemed to linger in his mind. It appeared that there might be weddings right and left in Firelands in the relatively near future.

Weddings had been on his mind a lot lately. For years he and Fannie had taken their time together whenever they could, what with his job and her entertaining, and sometimes the opportunities were few and far between so they'd crammed as much togetherness into the times they had as was humanly possible. And the last few days, which had actually evolved into weeks, spent with Fannie had been the best times he'd ever had, hands down. Their time together had made him start to think seriously about finding a place to light and settle down for good and all.

Charlie stepped into the lobby of the Jewel and went to the desk for his room key. "Got a letter here for you, Marshal," the clerk told him. "From the looks of the postmarks it's been chasin' you around the country for a while." He handed Charlie the envelope and Charlie thanked him. The return address read "Office of the US Marshal's Service, Washington, D.C." and it was originally postmarked over a month before. Charlie took his key and started up the stairs to his room.

Back in his room Charlie tapped on the connecting door to Fannie's room but there was no answer. Fannie was apparently out and about. She wasn't one to sit still for long. He opened his pocketknife and slit the envelope and took out the letter inside. The message was short and to the point:

To: Charlie MacNeil, US Marshal's Service
From: Harmon Ledbetter, Director

Re: Upper rank vacancy, Denver, Colorado

Marshal MacNeil:

Due to illness, the Supervisory Marshal, US Marshal's Service, Denver, Colorado, has elected to retire from his post. This letter does hereby offer that post to you. Please advise this office as soon as expedient as to acceptance of this offer.

Signed,
Harmon Ledbetter, Director

At the bottom of the page, the director had written in his own hand,

PS I think you're the right man for this job, Charlie. I hope you take it.

HL

Charlie sat and stared at the small sheet of paper in his hand. This was definitely a bolt out of the blue. Here he'd been thinking that maybe it was time to settle down and quit gallivanting all over the country, and this was his chance. He didn't want to quit the law business, he was just tired. After all, he was fifty years old and still didn't have a place to hang his hat that was truly his. Maybe taking the job in Denver would be his chance. Now he needed to talk to Fannie more than ever.

Charlie's door flew open and Fannie sashayed into the room. She saw the look on his face and the paper in his hand and asked, "Why so serious, Sugar? Did something happen I should know about?"

"In a manner of speaking," Charlie said, looking up at her with a smile. "I got a job offer." He held out the letter.

"You already have a job," Fannie told him. She read down the page then her face lit up. "That's wonderful!" she exclaimed. "I'm so happy for you. And for what it's worth, I agree with this Ledbetter. You are the right man for the job." She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a big kiss then stepped back.

"There's more, isn't there?" she asked, studying his face.

"Yeah, there is," he said. "I'd like you to come with me. For good." Before she could say anything, he hurried on. "I know, you've got your singing and all, and I don't want to take you away from that. But wouldn't you like to have your own theater? I've got some money put away, and I think we could make it work. And we could see each other more. We don't have to get married or anything like that..."

"But that's what you want, isn't it?" Fannie interrupted in a soft voice.

He just nodded. They were both silent for an eternity that lasted at least a minute and Charlie had just opened his mouth to speak when footsteps hammered the floor outside the room and a fist pounded on the door. "Marshal, come quick," a boy's voice said outside. "You're needed at the Sheriff's office." Footsteps faded away back down the hall.

"Would you just think about it?" Charlie said as he stood and reached for his hat. "I gotta go."

"I'm going with you," Fannie said. Out of habit she checked her reticule to make sure the proper artillery was there and flew out the door that Charlie was holding open.

"I thought you might say that," he said. Together they went down the stairs and started for the Sheriff's office.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-7-08

 

Esther rocked slowly in the darkened room, the letter forgotten in her hand as she watched her sleeping husband.
If she hadn't come so close to losing him -- again -- she might have smiled.
So you think we should announce his death? she thought.
Her eyes narrowed with the thought, and she considered the situation carefully.
The doctor had believed her husband dead, and had excused himself: she heard his murmured words outside, she heard Jacob's receding boot heels on the deck.
Declaring him dead will stop the bounty hunters, she thought. It will let Jacob and I get him home, and safe, back in Firelands, with family and friends around us.
She thought of Jacob, and wished for him: he had not returned, and though she was concerned for the sensitive young man, she could not leave her husband's side.
"How do I spirit you home?" she whispered, and as she thought, she rocked...

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-7-08

 

Annette slept, and as she slept, she dreamed ...
She was wearing a fine gown, and her hair was in ringlets, the music was gay and the lamps shining, and she stood on the edge of the dance floor, waiting.
Jacob came to her, tall, slender, his tie carefully knotted, hair combed, and taking her hand, asked her to dance.
She looked down and her feet were huge wooden blocks.
Crushed, she looked up, and Jacob's arm was around her waist, and he picked her up, and they danced, and her feet never touched the floor ...

 

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-7-08

 

The noon whistle had yet to blow when Jacob stood at the foot of the gangway.
He'd checked the schedule for the eastbound trains, and knew which he would take; the reward money was heavy in his coat pocket, part of it rode in his money belt and the rest he would have to distribute about his person: the balance was in a package in the other coat pocket, for he'd decided to take it to Esther before he left.
He'd almost gone East on the moment that the reward money was in his hand, but it was not in him to leave his adopted mother, newly a widow, bereaved of husband and son in the same day, and so he stood at the foot of the gangway, hesitating.
Finally he raised his left boot and his right followed, and he raised his knuckles at the stateroom door, and hesitated.
He heard the key turn in the lock.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-7-08

 

I opened my eyes.
The first thing I saw was Esther, in a rocking chair, beside my bed.
Esther, queen of my life, I thought, and my lips completed the thought:
"You are beautiful."
Esther's eyes opened, and she smiled a little, and her hand was warm in mine. She patted our conjoined hands and said, "You ornery old scalawag, I knew you were too contrary to die on me!"
"Orders, ma'am," I said with a smile and a grimace, for the movement pulled on my neck, and my hand raised to explore the bandage tied about my throat.
"Now you leave that alone," Esther said. "The doctor barely got you put back together when your eyes rolled back in your head and he drew the sheet up over your face!"
"Did he finish the job?" I asked, and I knew I was smiling a little, and I had a deep sense of rightness, that I was supposed to live, and that I would.
"I haven't looked," Esther admitted.
"Am I leaking?"
"No."
"Good. I'm hungry."
Esther's kerchief went to her lips, and then to her eyes, and I don't think she knew quite whether to laugh, or to cry.
I knew what needed done, and I was inclined to be about it.
I wanted a good square meal.
It had been some time since breakfast, and that hen had been kind of skimpy on eggs that morning.
There was a step at the door.
"That will be Jacob," Esther said briskly, and turned to open the door.
I relaxed, flat on my back, hands propped up across my belly.
I was tired, bone tired, but I was still hungry.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-8-08

 

Jacob, for the first time in his young life, had absolutely, positively, no idea what to say, or what to do, or what to even think.
The inside of the stateroom was shadowed, dark.
Like a tomb, he thought, and shivered.
"Come in, dear," Esther said gently. "It's chilly outside."
Jacob swept off his Stetson and stepped across the threshold, something like fear building in his belly.
"Jacob, please sit down," Esther said, indicating a plush chair with a tilt of her hand.
Jacob looked toward the bunk, looked away quickly.
His father lay there, pale, still, a bandage covering the horrible, gaping wound that laid open his throat.
I should have stopped them, he thought.
I failed my Pa.
Guilt crushed his young spirit, leaving it bruised, flattened.
Esther's hands guided him, and she steered him nearer the bed, and to the chair.
"I killed him," Jacob whispered hoarsely.
Esther's chin came up and her eyes fairly snapped. "Young man, you did no such thing!" she declared hotly. "You kept him ALIVE, and myself as well, do you hear me?"
Jacob shook his head, his eyes dropping to the floor. "I failed him."
"I think your father would say otherwise," Esther said tartly.
Jacob dragged his gaze from the rug to the bed, and to his father's unmoving form.
"He looks like he's only sleeping," Jacob said sadly.
"I was," Linn said, and Jacob saw his eyes open, and there was a roaring sound in Jacob's ears, and the sensation of falling down a deep, narrow well.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Lady Leigh 2-8-08

 

“What has Maudes eyes leakin so?” Bill questioned

“That farmers wife over there told her Sheriff Kellers been kilt, Bill” was Macs response.

There was silence between the two, as seemed fitting under the circumstances.

Moments later, “Mac? Member that time you was doin the Deputy work fer that Sheriff in the Springs, and how we all thought you was kilt by that horse thief?”

“I surly do, Bill ..... Do you recon you’d have another perty service fer me when I really do go yonder?”

Shuffle .... shuffle .... then Bill turned around, “Well you can relieve yer mind of havin another perty marble headstone, Mac! That thing cost me two months wages!”

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-8-08

 

Jacob woke to the feel of soft material against his cheek and the sting of whiskey on his tongue. He opened his eyes and blinked and realized he was lying on the floor, with his head in Esther's lap.
Puzzled, he struggled upright as Esther put the glass down on the floor.
"Jacob, I'm sorry," his father's voice said. "I had no idea..."
Jacob came off the floor like a scalded cat, landing on all fours, his eyes big.
"PA!" he whispered hoarsely, harshly, the effort stripping the word from his throat as if he were gut punched.
Linn blinked, smiled. "I'm alive, son. Sore and weak but I'm here. Were you hurt?"

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Mr. Box 2-8-08

 

News was spreading thru town like a wave. There was a sudden buzz across the bar and then dead silence! People just froze in place. They couldn't even take a drink. I was stunned myself.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-8-08

 

I was weak but I could think, and if my own hands lacked strength I had Jacob as my right hand and Esther as my left: I had speed and strength and craft and agility and no man could ask more.
We held a council of war, there in our stateroom, the three of us.
Jacob handed Esther the thousand dollars bounty on Dandy Dan, and the five hundred on the other fellow, and she handed it right back to him, and he handed it back to her, and they both laughed, and I said "Why don't we all set down and have a bite, I'm about starved out!" and they laughed, quietly, and I did too, a little.
Over beef and bread we sorted out what had happened. My recollection of events after I got hit was real spotty, and Jacob filled in the holes for me, and when he told us how he'd gone and sent the telegram to Firelands, Esther and I looked at one another and I could see the wheels turning behind her emerald eyes.
"Charlie's letter suggested we stop the bounty hunters by claiming your death," Esther said slowly, "so this will fit the bill very nicely, don't you think?"
I nodded, grimacing at the pull in my neck.
"Now. We send word east as well. Jacob." Esther turned to Jacob, and his back straightened, and he was suddenly intent on her every word.
"Jacob, we need you to send another telegram. Find a wanted poster and make sure you get the name right --"
"The name is Jollins. Marshal, Chauncey." I frowned. "I know him."
"How do you know him, dear?"
"We were going to arrest his son. He'd stolen a horse and buggy and we had our case almost put together when Jollins -- he was Council President at the time -- called in some favors and got the Marshal fired. I was deputy at the time. I was in Nelsonville serving a warrant when I heard what had happened, so I caught the trolley back to Chauncey and ran from the depot to the village hall, but by then it was too late. He'd broken into our files and was just stomping the ashes into the ground where he'd burned our records on the matter."
"This Jollins is willing to murder you for that?" Jacob exclaimed, incredulous.
I veiled my eyes. "There's other bad blood between us," I admitted. "Likely he heard I was doing all right out here and figured he'd upset my apple cart. He's like that. I've known him to swear falsely before but nothing like this."
Jacob stood. "Sir, I'd like to get him."
"So would I," I said, "but not yet. Let him get relaxed --"
"Sir, the train leaves within the hour. I can be on it!"
I gestured gently. "Sit down, Jacob. Let's plan this, shall we?"
Jacob sat reluctantly.
I took a long drink of beer. Jacob had been kind enough to bring up a pail of beer with our meal, for I did not trust the water: I'd seen more men sicken and die during the War from bad water and poor sanitation than from direct battlefield injuries, and weak as I was from blood loss, I knew that any infection, any sickness, could finish the job the two assassins started.
"Now. Jacob, I need you to send a telegram to Charlie and Jackson Cooper. Tell them "Captain Shade is coming home." Charlie will recognize the name."
"Captain Shade?" Jacob grinned at the reference.
I took another drink of beer. "We used that dodge during the War. If an officer was captured he was considered dead. A message from'Captain Shade' was a message from the dead."
Jacob frowned. "Makes it sound like we're shipping you home in a long box."
I frowned. "Something clearer, then. 'Captain Shade wounded but alive' might work," I suggested. "Esther, what do you think?"
Esther's eyes were soft. "I know how I felt when I saw you dying again, dear. Let's not let our people grieve without need. Jacob, let them know that Captain Shade is wounded but alive."
"Then come back here," I said, lying back against the pillows mounded behind me. "I need my son close by."
Jacob stood, looking considerably older than his few years. "Yes, sir," he said, and took two steps toward the door.
He stopped, turned.
"Sir?"
"Yes, Jacob?"
"Sir, you said you need your son close by." He swallowed hard and his hands opened, closed into tight fists, opened again.
"Sir, I need my Pa, too."
I felt tears stinging my eyes when he said that. I hid it as best I could but those words meant something to me.
Esther stood, and saw him to the door, and locked it behind him.
"Esther?" I said weakly.
Esther drew the velvet upholstered chair nearer the bed.
"Esther, I don't feel right about Jacob."
Esther frowned, puzzled. "I don't understand."
I turned my head a little, winced. "His childhood, Esther. He's not been able to be a boy."
Esther's hand was warm on my arm. "Jacob is a fine young man," she said gently. "He is a son of the frontier, and boys grow up fast and well out West. You know that."
"I still worry." I swirled the last of the beer around in the heavy mug and drained it.
"And what father worthy of the name wouldn't?" Esther replied tartly. "More bread, dear, beef?"
I closed my eyes, suddenly very tired. "Just sit with me, dear heart," I whispered, and I could feel myself relaxing, and knew I was almost asleep, just that fast.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-9-08

 

TO FIRELANDS SHERIFFS OFFICE FROM DEPUTY JACOB KELLER STOP CAPTAIN SHADE WOUNDED BUT RECOVERING STOP COMING HOME SOON STOP MURDERER KNOWN MAKING CASE STOP MORE LATER END

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-9-08

 

TO MARSHAL'S OFFICE CHAUNCEY OHIO FROM DEPUTY JACOB FIRELANDS STOP REGRET TO INFORM SHERIFF LINN KELLER MURDERED STOP MURDERERS DEAD STOP END

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-9-08

 

Lightning scratched his scalp and whistled.
He's run telegraph during the War, and he knew about "Captain Shade."
Lightning couldn't help himself.
He chuckled, a little, and tapped acknowledgment to the message, then he shrugged into his coat, flipped his wool cap on his thinning hair and opened the front door.
His son was just coming up with an armload of wood, and Lightning held the door open for him, and then legged it for the Sheriff's office.
This was news that wouldn't wait!

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Mr. Box 2-9-08

 

I saw Lightning sprinting toward the sheriff's office with a paper in his hand. I headed on over that way, too. By the time I got there Charlie and Jackson had already gotten the news.
"That's a great relief!" I said. "I'll tell the ladies. Should I keep it quiet otherwise?"

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-10-08

 

Sarah was apple-cheeked and giggling by the time she and Twain Dawg reached Maude's general store. Their breath hung in drifting clouds on the cold air, but winter's chill holds holds no terror for child or dog, especially when in pursuit of a penny candy, or of two of their favorite curmudgeons!
Sarah pushed the heavy door open and admonished, "Twain Dawg, you have to wait out here!" and Twain Dawg slithered past her, huge paws thumping happily on the clean, oiled floor, as he shoved a cold nose into Bill's hand, his tail whipping back and forth and brushing his flanks with unbridled happiness.
Maude smiled sadly from behind the counter, and lifted the lid on the peppermint sticks.
Sarah skipped up to the counter and laid a precious penny on the thick glass top, and Maude silently wrapped the peppermint stick in a paper sack and handed it over the counter to Sarah.
Twain Dawg stopped in mid-wiggle and thumped his square bottom down on the floor, and looked at Maude, scalp wrinkling up beween his ears as he cocked his head sideways.
Sarah's head tilted sideways a little, too, just like Twain Dawg's when something puzzled her. "Miz Maude?" she asked in her innocent child's voice, "you look terribly sad. What happened?"
Bill's arm slipped around Sarah, and he squatted down beside her, drawing her into an awkward embrace with one arm while riffling Twain Dawg's ears with the other hand. "She's been powerful sad since she heard about the Sheriff, Sarah," he said with an uncharacteristic gentleness.
"What about Uncle Linn?" Sarah asked, and the three adults looked from one to another to another.
A cold dread trickled down Sarah's young spine and settled in her little stomach, and her blue eyes grew large, and frightened: she didn't know what was wrong, only that something was wrong.
Sarah drew out of Bill's grasp, backing toward the door, Twain Dawg moving with her.
"Ma-mmaa?" she quavered, reaching up for the door knob and hauling at the heavy door. "Ma-maa?" Her high-button shoes were loud for a few moments on the board walk outside, and Twain Dawg was obliged to stretch into a great, galumphing gallop to keep up with the little girl's scissoring legs as she sprinted blindly across the street, calling loudly for her Mama, the peppermint forgotten, clutched desperately in her right hand.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-10-08

 

I ran my fingers over the relief-carved Square and Compasses on the lid.
"It is a lovely ... thing," Esther said, halfway between uncertainty and laughter.
"It is," I said, opening the lid. "Very nice workmanship." I looked at Esther. "Unusually deep. Thank you for that."
"It's cold out, dear, you'll need to bundle up to keep warm," Esther said impishly. "Plus you'll need plenty of padding under you."
I examined the latch on the inside of the coffin's lid. "Excellent. I don't want some dogrobber disturbing my rest."
Jacob's grin was broad and he took and awkward step toward me. "Sir, I honestly pity the poor fool who disturbs your rest!" he said, and I realized his neck was a little longer, his ears bigger, and good Lord, where did he get such big hands? -- and I realized with a lurch as what I'd known for a long time finally sunk in ... Jacob was growing up.
I closed the lid and ran my finger tips over its smooth, finished surface. "Jacob, in due time you will know the significance of this insignia," I said. "And you will know the reference to a man's 'long home.' " My fingers raised to my neck, to the bandage bulking under my collar. There had been a little leakage -- apparently the doctor's work wasn't quite complete -- but I've always healed well.
"The Judge will be receiving us at his railcar," Esther said, turning briskly to the mirror, savagely knotting the ribbon under her chin, her fiery locks hanging in curls out from under the black bonnet.
I felt an old, familiar want, looking at my lovely bride, absolutely beautiful even in mourning black.
Esther turned toward me, her jeweled cameo flashing rebelliously at her throat.
She took a step toward me, her jaw set.
"I don't know whether to slap you or kiss you," she said in a low voice. "You've nearly died twice on me now." Her gloved hand went to her lips, and she took a moment to gather herself, and she rested her fingers delicately on my chest, and she looked up at me, her eyes bright.
"I won't have you dying on me, Mr. Keller! I won't have it, do you hear me?"
I gathered her into my arms and held her, and she was trembling.
"You've had a terrible time of it, my dear," I said, "and you have every right to be upset, you know that."
She nodded, resting her forehead against my necktie.
Jacob shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.
"Sir? We have everything loaded and in the wagon. You're all that's left."
I smiled, and Esther dabbed her nose with a black kerchief. Picking up a black cloak, she handed it to Jacob; he held it as she turned, and drew it around her, and fastened the clasp.
"I suppose this is where the actors say 'Showtime,'" I said, smiling thinly.
There was a knock at the door, and the shuffling of restless feet.
"That will be the Nantucket men," Esther said. "You had better get comfortable, dear. You'll be a little bit getting to the Judge's car."
I climbed carefully into the coffin, Jacob holding my elbow, for I was still weak, and not entirely steady; the improvised mattress was adequate, and Jacob drew the quilts up over me, and worked them in beside me.
Just before he got me tucked in tight I stuck out my hand and Jacob took it.
I winked.
"You're a good son, Jacob," I said. "It's time for you to be a man now. You will escort your widowed mother, and you will make me proud!"
"Yes, sir, I will," Jacob said solemnly. "See you in the private car!"
The lid closed, and I reached up and threw the latch.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Lady Leigh 2-10-08

 

"Oh sweetheart ...." Bonnies heart was breaking as she held your daughter in her arms. How does a Mother comfort a grieving daughter? How does she tell this sweet little girl that her Dear Uncle Linn is gone?

With a deep breath, Bonnie continues, "Uncle Linn will never be truly gone, Sarah," Bonnie placed her own hand over Sarah's heart, "As long as you feel him right here, he'll always be alive .... maybe not in the physical sinse, but in the emotional sense."

"But Mama! He promised he'd always be here!" Sarah continued to sob.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Mr. Box 2-10-08

 

"Miss Duzy, I'd like to speak with you."
"Not right now, Fred. I don't feel well at all from all the bad news."
"Miss Duzy, you need to hear this."
"I don't know if I'm up to anything else, Fred."
"Come closer," I whispered. "Sheriff Keller was just wounded."
"What?" she shreiked!
"Shhh, there was another telegram. I went over to the sheriff's office when it came. Just tell the ladies for now and try to keep it quiet for a while."
"I hope this is true."
"I think it is."
"Thank you, Fred."

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-10-08

 

In spite of his own distress, Caleb couldn't help but be amused by Sarah.
Sarah had -- with the remarkable resilience of a child -- gone from fear of the unknown, to disbelief, to rebellion, and finally to stubbornness.
Sarah's bottom lip was out and her arms were crossed, and her expression was as flexible as carven stone. She shook her head emphatically and declared "He'll be back! He promised!" Her nod added emphasis to an absolute -- so much so, Caleb realized, that if he didn't know otherwise, he would be inclined to believe the faith of this little child.
Sarah turned and ran out of the room, Twain Dawg galloping after her.
Caleb's hands were warm and strong on Bonnie's shoulders. "Give her a little time, dear," he said gently, and Bonnie reached up and laid her hand on his, leaning her cheek over against his knuckles.
I need your strength, she thought, and suddenly realized how very, very tired she was.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-11-08

 

Jacob never really stopped to label himself, nor to consider exactly what he was, but if he did, he probably would regard himself as a student, for he studied all things.
He learned that from his Pa.
Now, watching the Nantucket men, he marveled, for there was something more here than met the eye, or at least his limited education in such matters.
The Nantucket men, and the Captain, all wore white aprons, and white gloves, and they moved with a smooth precision Jacob had never seen, but could not help but admire.
As his father's coffin was hoist to shoulder height and carried to the deck outside, several of the passengers were similarly attired -- all men, he saw, but men of every one of life's walks -- the German count and the British major, too, were attired in the same manner, and both their aprons had ornate embroidery in several colors ... theirs bore not the square-and-compasses, but rather an arc-and-compasses.
Jacob filed this away for future inquiry.
He and Esther followed the coffin, Esther on Jacob's left arm, his rifle across his right: he wore his deputy's star openly now, and so identified, he alone of all the men wore a cover.
Jacob saw much and said little.
At the foot of the gangway, instead of a humble wagon, an ornate hearse with four matched, black mares, all with tall black plumes, waited; on either side, a column of six men, all in white gloves and aprons, and in their best suits.
Jacob was most impressed.
The local constabulary was represented as well: they saluted as the hearse went by, and Jacob nodded solemnly to them: they walked behind the slow-moving funeral coach, for it was but a short distance to the depot.
His Honor the Judge Hostetler was waiting for them; he, too, wore white gloves and apron, and supervised loading the long box into his private car.
Through all this, Jacob was the perfect gentleman, conducting himself with a polish that would credit a man a decade his elder, and in the privacy of the rail car, Esther took pains to tell him so.
Jacob sat silently, his rifle parked in a convenient corner, as Esther tapped delicately on the lid of the polished coffin lid.
He looked up as, puzzled, she put an ear hard against the lid.
Jacob rose as Esther gestured him over, and with a turn of her hand, silently bade him place his ear as well against the gleaming, burnished cherry lid.
Jacob did.
Within, low, but distinct, was the sound of a man, snoring.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-11-08

 

Duzy sipped hot chai from a delicate china cup, and rocked.
Duzy, too, was many things, and one thing she was, was a journalist.
Journalists do not like mysteries: journalists, like detectives, will take a mystery, and examine it, and turn it over in their hands, and unravel and dissect and pluck it apart, until they discover that which is hidden.
Duzy knew there were answers, or at least an answer, and it was hidden within her. She'd glimpsed it with her Second Sight, or prescience, or whatever it was she'd inherited, or developed, and she was determined to take a good long look at it.
Even if it was something she didn't want to see.
Closing her eyes, she imagined herself seated in the rocker, and also standing beside herself, watching as she sat, and rocked, eyes closed, head back against the tall, padded back of the chair.
You are safe, her standing self whispered, and the seated self smiled and whispered, Safe.
You are looking at your vision, the standing self whispered.
The seated self was still, and fear washed over her face.
You are safe, the standing self whispered, and the fear washed away, and was gone, and Duzy looked at her vision.
She saw the fear, the confusion, the brightness of the colors: she saw the grain in the wooden deck, the texture of the firewood, stacked neatly against the bulkhead.
She saw Esther spin like a dancer, on her toes, arms drawn up, balanced, graceful.
She saw sunlight flash off the emeralds at her throat, and she saw blood, bright blood, splash in crimson droplets on her cheek.
She saw Jacob's young face, hard, set, chiseled in rage, cold in purpose, precise in execution: she felt the revolver in his hand, smelled copper and sulfur and damp riverbank.
She felt surprise and dismay and a deep, profound disappointment, just before the overwhelming weakness that took the Sheriff to his knees, then over on his back, the pain in the side of his throat almost an afterthought.
You are safe, the standing self whispered, and the seated self whispered, Safe, and she watched as blood, her Uncle's blood, ran across the deck, and how Esther caught him as he fell back, and seized up a great handful of her petticoat and pressed it hard against his neck, and she felt the fear in her Aunt's soul as she tried desperately to keep life from running out from between her fingers.
Sweat began beading up on her forehead.
You are safe, the standing self whispered. You are watching a play, only a play.
A play, the seated self whispered.
She watched as her Uncle stood up, strong and uninjured, as the wounded Uncle still lay in Esther's arms and on her lap, and she felt surprise as his blue eyes focused on her, and she saw the smile, and the welcome, in them, and she saw gold, flecks of gold in his eyes, like shining placer flakes swirled up in a black-burnt copper pan.
"I'm not leaving," he said, and she felt his arms, warm and strong, holding her again, and she smelled him, the way she'd smelled him every time he'd wrapped his arms around her, and she felt his heart laugh with delight, and his fingertips brushed a stray wisp of hair out of her eyes, and there was a knock, a knock from far away, and the standing self turned, and sat, and became one with the seated self, and Duzy took a deep breath, and opened her eyes, and for a confused moment puzzled over her whereabouts.
The knock on her door repeated, insistent.
Duzy stood.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Charlie MacNeil 2-11-08

 

Damn, this had been a confusing day. First had come the news that Linn had been killed, then shortly thereafter they'd heard that a Captain Shade had merely been injured, not killed. Charlie chuckled to himself at that one. He'd heard that one before and was impressed with its use in this particular instance. He'd known that Linn had a sense of humor that occasionally bordered on the bizarre and this had just been another confirmation of exactly that.

Charlie turned to Jackson. "Well, we were looking for a way to put a stop to the bounty hunters. I guess this is as good a way as any." He grinned. "So when's the funeral, er, I mean when's the Judge's car supposed to get here?"

Jackson gave him an answering grin. "I reckon the whole shebang should be here in a couple of days. I believe that the Lady Esther's attached to that train." He heaved a deep breath. "I do believe I'll head on home. This has been something of a day." He picked up his hat and set it on his head. "I've got a wife yonder that I ain't had near enough time with the last couple of days. See y'all." He strolled out of the jail and turned toward his house and his Emma.

Charlie and Fannie looked at each other. "Well, Darlin'," he said with a suggestive smile. "Can you think of a good way we can celebrate this good news?"

"I believe so," Fannie told him with a saucy smile of her own. "You're going to take me to dinner at the Jewel, and buy me the best bottle of wine they have, then tomorrow we're going shopping."

"Shopping?" Charlie asked. "For what?" He could be a trifle dense at times. Then the light dawned and his face changed, first from confusion to delight then concern. "Are you sure, Darlin'?" he asked.

"I'm sure," she said. "I've just been waiting for you to come to your senses and ask." He picked her up in a tight hug and swung her around and their lips clung together in a lingering kiss.

"Let's us go to dinner!" Charlie proclaimed. "This is turning out to be one of the best days of my life. But I gotta stop at the telegraph office on the way to the Jewel."

"Whatever for?" Fannie asked. "Linn and company will be back in a couple of days."

"I gotta wire a man about a job," Charlie said. He wrapped his arm around her waist and motioned to the door. "Shall we?" he said. The pair went out the door, closed it behind them, and started down the street.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-12-08

 

Miss Messman hadn't paid much attention to the cowboy pretending to flip through a book at the reading table in the front of the library. She was cataloging in another box of books just brought up from the depot, and absorbed in her work, honestly did not notice that she was being studied with a fervent, though innocent, eye.
A second cowboy came in; she looked up and smiled, and as the second hung his hat also on the hat-tree, and turned to the shelves, she returned to carefully noting the book's name, author, publisher, publishing date and then assigning it a library number; dipping her steel nib quill in the new bottle of India ink, she wrote the number inside the cover and set the book aside.
Miss Emma, the schoolmarm, had brought a list of books she'd like to see stocked, and about half of them had arrived; Miss Messman wrote a note letting her know they'd come in, and set it aside as well.
Miss Emma, as a matter of fact, came through the door just as Miss Messman set her ink-wet note to one side.
The two cowpokes looked up and smiled at Miss Emma, but they knew her to be the schoolmarm, and both resumed their wishful gazing upon the lovely young librarian with the sliding spectacles.
Every library in the world is a hushed and quiet place,and Miss Messman and Miss Emma began discussing the books in a quiet voice, in tones of respect and cooperation.
Unfortunately the two cowpokes began discussing matters in a less congenial way.
It was not uncommon for a cowboy to ride miles -- miles! -- to just sit and watch a homesteader's daughter.
Just watch her.
Just sit in his saddle and watch this lovely creature embroider, or wash, or hang out laundry.
The cowboy traditionally was a man of honor, and of upright character; those who would be ungentlemanly were very much in the minority: most 'pokes had women up on a pedestal, and not a few had their ladies on a pedestal of such altitude as to risk nosebleed.
One of these 'pokes was one such, and the other was almost.
Unfortunately, as young men often are, they were competitive.
One said to the other that she was lovely, and the other said to the one that yes, and she was his girl, and the first disagreed with the second, and the second took exception to the first: in very short order both ladies looked up, astonished, as two chairs scraped harshly back, two rangy fellows squared off and, each snarling a challenge to the other, raised bare knuckles and began cheerfully elevating the discussion from words to fisticuffs.
Miss Messman's eyes were big behind her slipping spectacles, and she gripped the edge of the counter as if for comfort, or support, or perhaps shelter: but Miss Emma was made of sterner stuff, or perhaps had more experience in dealing with tall boys and their tantrums.
Gathering a double handful of skirt, she marched up to them and in her best schoolmarm's voice, declared, "THAT'S ENOUGH!"
Miss Messman was amazed; her mouth was open in surprise, and she was undecided whether Miss Emma resembled an avenging saint, or perhaps a Bantam rooster all ruffled up, for she wasn't a tall woman by any stretch of the imagination, and she was just a skinny little thing, but she'd stomped fearlessly up to the pugilists and with the whip-stroke of her voice, shocked them both into standstill!
"Now you two boys should be ashamed of yourselves!" Miss Emma continued, her voice sharp and clear in the still evening library. "I want you to stop that this instant!"
Miss Messman realized her mouth was open, and she closed it, and did her best not to smile.
"Now wait a minute!" the first protested, "that's MY girl there, and HE was making eyes at her!"
"YOUR girl!" the second shouted, "since WHEN?" and the fight was on again.
Miss Emma ducked an accidental swing, backed up and deftly plucked a bunch of flowers from a vase; with a quick swing, she slung a shining arc of water at head height, dousing both cowpokes and very effectively stoppping the fight again.
Neither noticed the library door opening, nor the great mountain of a man that catfooted across the threshold.
One of the cowpokes dashed the water from his eyes and roared "NOW WHO IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, LADY!" and a great crushing weight descended on both his shoulders, and he blinked to clear the last of the flower-vase water from his vision, and found he was suddenly looking at a very tall, a very broad man, and the man had a deputy's star on this vest, and the man had a smile, and the smile was not entirely pleasant.
The second cowpoke had the good sense to cease hostilities, and to drift back a few steps.
Jackson Cooper's voice was surprisingly gentle. He was normally a soft-spoken man, except when occasion demanded otherwise; in the library's quiet atmosphere, his quiet words carried with an unmistakable clarity.
"Who does she think she is?" he said pleasantly. "First, she is the schoolmarm, and you strike me as a naughty schoolboy in need of a switching. Second, she is my wife, and you should behave yourself in a library."
So saying, he shifted his grip, lifting the fellow to his tip-toes by virtue of crushing a great expanse of vest from between his shoulder-blades into his great hand, and with the ruffian thus confined, Jackson Cooper encouraged his ambulation toward the waiting portal, held obligingly open by his erstwhile competitor and rival for the lady's affections.
As Jackson Cooper set the second down beside the first, and both of the m just without the door's threshold, Jackson Cooper added, "It's not wise to trouble the Sheriff's daughter-in-law."
Given this encouragement, the two cowboys abandoned their literary pursuits, at least for the evening.
Closing the door, Jackson Cooper lifted his hat to Miss Messman. "My apologies, Miss Messman," he said politely, "but I believe that takes care of the problem."
Regarding his wife with affection, he rumbled, "My dear, you are lovely!" and Emma's head tilted back as Jackson lifted her in the air, as he always did, and kissed her delicately on the lips.
"Let's go home," he said, and behind the counter, Miss Messman smiled, and stoppered her ink-bottle, and thought of the tall, slender fellow she'd seen off with such trepidation at the depot.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Charlie MacNeil 2-12-08

 

Charlie spent very few words on his acceptance telegram to Harmon Ledbetter. Accept CMN

"Alright, Darlin'," he told Fannie. "Shall we go to dinner?" Fannie took his arm and the pair exited the telegraph office. They were just in time to see the precipitous exit of the two cowboys from the library. "Now I wonder what caused that?" Charlie said to Fannie. Then Jackson and Emma strolled through the door and Charlie knew. Or at least he thought he had a pretty good idea.

At the Jewel the couple sat at Linn's usual table in the corner, Charlie with his back to the wall and Fannie beside him. They ordered dinner and a bottle of the house's best wine. Champagne was probably called for, but Charlie could barely stand the stuff. If he had to drink wine, he much preferred a slightly dry red wine.

While they were eating Duzy came into the dining room and came to where they sat. "Are you two celebrating something?" she asked innocently. Charlie just gave her a look that was a cross between "cat that ate the canary" and "whacked between the eyes with a singletree". He still couldn't completely comprehend what had happened in the last little while, although he'd made a point of wiring the big boss that he would take the job in Denver.

Duzy looked back and forth between Charlie and Fannie. Neither of them said a word, but Fannie had a smile a mile wide. "He didn't!" Duzy exclaimed. Fannie nodded. "He did!" Duzy shrieked. Heads turned all around the room. She turned on Charlie. "It's about time you made an honest woman of her, mister," she scolded. She turned to Fannie "When is the wedding?"

"We haven't had time to figure that out yet," Fannie told her. "We don't even have a ring, yet. We're going shopping at Maude's tomorrow."

"And I'm going with you," Duzy declared. "And now I have to tell, oh, everybody! See you!" She turned and rushed from the room.

"It'll probably be in the newspaper tomorrow," Charlie said, somewhat chagrined. "I didn't realize I'd been so remiss in my duties," he went on.

Fannie slapped him on the arm. "What do you mean, duties?" she asked. "I would have thought it'd be more of a pleasure."

"Well now, I gotta admit there's definitely been some pleasuring," he said slyly. Fannie slapped him on the arm again, harder. "And speaking of which..." he went on, "I had a bottle of wine sent up to my room. When we get done eating..."

Fannie dropped her fork on her plate and pushed her plate back. "Done." She jumped out of her chair. "Last one up the stairs has to..."

"Has to what?" Charlie said. Side by side they started for the stairs, both trying their best to be dignified about the whole thing while they were still in public. But before they got out the door Fannie let out a giggle and the race was on.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Linn Keller 2-15-08

 

The Lady Esther labored through the night, and the morning that followed; the passengers in the Judge's private car got a good night's rest.
Well, most of them, anyway.
Jacob lay awake thinking of Miss Messman, and how she'd been tongue-tied and finally said all that was to be said with a quick kiss, and a hasty retreat: Jacob's forehead wrinkled as he turned this over in his mind, for certain mechanisms common to maturing young men were only just making themselves known to him, and as yet he felt only a great uncertainty.
The fire hadn't lit in his boiler as yet.
His Honor the Judge, on an adjacent cot, had no such difficulty; his breathing was easy in the dark, and he barely moved all night, untroubled by restless thoughts or confused dreams.
The Sheriff was awake, as well, considering many things: mostly the legacy he would leave his son, and bequeath to his wife, for he was certain she would outlive him.
As if knowing she was the subject of his thoughts, Esther cuddled up against him, and he drew her near, warm in flannel and in dreams, and considered what a marvelous gift she was, and offered up silent thanks for that gift.
The moonlight gleamed off the polished, rounded surface of the coffin against the far wall, and caught his eye, and he offered up additional thanks, that he would not be making it his long home for some time yet.
Eventually the mens' eyes closed, lulled by the rhythmic tickity-clack of steel wheels on iron rails, and the gentle sway of the private car.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

 

Charlie MacNeil 2-15-08

 

Charlie was awake as well. Beside him Fannie slept but his eyes wouldn't close and his whirling brain kept him from sleep.What did I do tonight? he asked himself. It was something he'd been thinking about for a long time, and especially the last few days, but it still scared him. He had just made a commitment to someone other than himself and he just hoped he could handle it.

Charlie chuckled silently. If he didn't do it right, he'd no doubt have a lot of guidance. With his mind finally somewhat at ease, he drifted off to sleep. He had some shopping to do tomorrow.

[Charlie MacNeil, SASS #48580]

Duzy Wales 2-16-08

 

Duzy was snuggled against Jake, “We have been blessed once again! We must be doing something right, Darlin’?”

“It does feel right, doesn’t it, Jake?” Duzy answered, moving even closer…..

“Dear Uncle Linn! Oh Jake! When Fred was so thoughtful to bring me the news…..I knew he knew it was true….but, at the same time, I was trying to relive my vision, and barely caught what he was saying…..bless him, I must thank him too! He knew my heart was breaking at the thought of losing him…..and dear Aunt Esther, oh Honey, I can’t wait to see them, to hear it all first hand…..I miss them so! And poor Papa, and Mama, you should have seen their smiles and how they danced around the room…..I think they are taking a walk tonight….” Suddenly Duzy realized she was rambling and blushed as she looked into his eyes….

They were tender and full of love….and then one twitched a little, and Duzy noticed the slight smirk in his grin as he knelt over her to kiss her….slowly bringing his face to hers, both looking into each others eyes, as she felt his lips touch hers, nibbling, loving, demanding…..

“Oh first I have to ask you!” Did you know Fannie and Charlie are engaged to be married?” Duzy couldn’t help but smile……knowing how Fannie must be feeling…and Charlie! What kind of job would he need to keep up with Fannie!! Or, would Fannie give up entertaining??? Would she give it up for Charlie and children?? Or try to do it all? After all, Duzy hoped to have children someday….and yet she loved being a journalist. Duzy’s mind was running overtime, as usual, and suddenly he brought his lips back down on hers.

“No kidding! That’s wonderful news!” Jake answered, as he nibbled Duzy’s neck and throat a minute or so later…..

“You did say that Caleb has told Bonnie, didn’t you? I need to go to her soon and see how she is and how little Sarah is? Can you believe Sarah wouldn’t ever believe Uncle Linn was dead?”

“Yes, I heard that, Darlin’! Our Sarah is smart, like her Mom, they are so much alike!” Jake hadn’t even thought of Bonnie not being Sarah’s biological Mom. “Yes they are.”

Jake pulled Duzy next to him and put his arm under her neck, as she turned and laid her face on his chest…..snuggling and still talking…..

“Did you know Kid took your prisoner back to San Francisco?”