Note: To anyone who is reading this post I have to let them know this is an excerpt. It is a first draft, and is not polished or edited in a very well-written way. It belongs to me. This means, no copying, or distributing any of this story without my permission. Anyone caught stealing my work will be punished by the full extent of the law. Thank you for listening.
Guilt clung to
George Hayes like fleas adhering to dogs. The blacksmith sat in chair fashioned
out of tanned cow hide, hanging his head in shame. His wife sat directly to his
right in a heavily padded, high-backed chair upholstered with red chintz. She dabbed
her green eyes with a white, halfway folded handkerchief.
A fire burned in
the grate at their backs, filling the small sitting room with smells of peat
and wood smoke. The walls were made of brown maple, slatted planks. Two
windows, one facing east and the other west had been adorned with white lacy
curtains. They had been hallway drawn, tied off with rose colored bows. Lit
candles in lanterns sat upon the window sills, while another lantern hung on
the south wall behind him.
In the middle of
the furniture grouping sat a squat, round dark wood table holding two coffee
mugs steam coming from the ceramic cups.
George sputtered
mild curses under his breath.
Sometimes, like
now, Jacob truly hated his duties as town sheriff, walking into a situation he
knew nothing about.
When he had
received the telegram from George in his office, he had set it aside thinking
it could wait. Twenty minutes after completing his paper work, he had finally
read the message. When he saw the words: Need help. Stop. Phillipa is danger.
Stop. He had cursed long and loud.
Only a few
things in life could set his Stetson on fire and those were: His mother’s
passing, George suddenly dying or Phillipa needing his help.
His father had
left his mother a few short weeks after his birth and they had struggled to
make ends meet. George had seen him hungry, filthy and wandering on the street
at the age of twelve. Immediately, he took him on as an apprentice, giving him
a nickel a day for a hard day’s labor in his shop. A sharp witted, warm, but
sometimes cantankerous fellow, who swore a lot, George, had been like the
father he never had.
Eventually,
George had taken him to his home to meet his auburn headed wife, and his sassy,
red headed daughter Phillipa. She had been seven at the time, smart as a whip
and twice as stubborn. For years, she had become like another member of a
family he yearned to have himself.
Of course, when
he turned fourteen and began seriously observing ladies in a less than boyish
way, he and Phillipa had drifted apart. Over the course of time, his years
spent away at school and the various amounts of women he bedded had caused a
distant, cautious friendship between the two of them.
He saw less and
less of her after that. The sheriff position kept him far too busy to even stop
by the house for an occasional visit. News of her came through letters sent by
her mother telling him of how she had excelled in book learning, deportment and
other feminine pursuits.
Her father had
sent him notes as well. His frustration showed in the messy script about how
the boys had come in droves after she had reached the age of seventeen. It had
only grown worse, he had written when she reached her majority. Men from miles
around came to him vying for her hand in marriage.
He had laughed
out loud when George wrote how they had driven him to drink and made most of
his hair turn gray. Even though he probably shouldn’t have said it, George did;
relaying the fact he had driven every young man from his property with the
double barrels of his shotgun.
Underneath all
of the George’s blustering, he understood that he had to protect his daughter
at all costs.
That telegram
had shaken him up mighty bad. He had shouted where he would be going to his
deputy and when he might be back. Immediately, he had raced outside mounting
his gray horse, Hades riding like a man possessed. He had not broken stride
until a few yards from the hitching post in the front yard.
Before raising
his hand to knock, he had to gather steady breaths. George had opened the door,
waved him inside and did not say a word. Holding off any questions, he allowed
the older man to lead him to a rather, small rocking chair.
Until now, he
had kept his counsel. But, he could no longer put off the inevitable.
“George will you
tell me what is wrong?”
George blew out
his breath. Instead of answering, he grabbed his cup taking a cautious sip of
the liquid. Setting his cup back down, he coughed into his hand. Swallowing
hard, his gaze flitted away as if he couldn't bear to look him in the eyes.
Rachel gripped
her handkerchief, her lips in a stern straight line. Her eyes flashed with
anger.
Whatever might
have happened, he guessed that she blamed George. Her reaction seemed curious
and did not make much sense.
As a young man,
he had been a tad impatient. But as an adult, he knew how to wait out a long
interminable silence. His service as sheriff taught him that waiting for
information could be as valuable as forcing out a confession.
Luckily, George
realized he dealt with a wiser man and not the young boy he once knew. “This is
going to sound absurd or at least out of the range of the sheriff office’s
duties, but I have nowhere else to turn…”
Getting out of
his seat, he paced back and forth across the multicolored rug beneath his feet.
Again, he muttered curses under his breath, pushing his hands through his dark
head of hair.
George faced him
swearing aloud. “I hate what I did. But, you have to see that I had no choice…”
Rachel
interrupted, her face growing red. “You did have a choice. You made the wrong
one. The proper thing would have been contacting Mr. Winters right away and we
wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
Clenching his
hand into a fist, he yelled, “You have no inkling what’s at stake here woman!
There are facts you have not considered. This man knows my weaknesses as well
as yours. I knew he wouldn’t have stopped until he got what he wanted. As I
said, I had no choice.”
He tried calming
George by moderating his voice. “Please don’t be angry with your wife. Whatever
this problem is, I’m sure you’re making it out to be worse than it is. Tell me
all of the facts and I will take care of everything.”
Never had he
seen such sorrow, despair and anguish on George’s face. Tears had never even
graced his eyes until today. He braced himself for the news, hoping that once
he heard it that he wouldn’t pass out from the strain.
“I am not sure
you can do anything.” He paused, went back to his chair gripping it for
support. “Phillipa is gone. By gone, I mean she ain’t coming back home.”
His eyes
narrowed as his heart pounded. “Tell me what you mean by that.”
Lifting his
chin, he sputtered, “Phillip left with a man who she is marrying by the end of
the week.”
It felt as if
someone punched him in the gut. Surprise, annoyance, sadness and regret flowed
through him. He simply did not understand the hastiness of this sudden union.
Most of all, he could not comprehend why neither George nor Rachel informed him
by letter.
George’s words
of him not being able to do anything went through his head along with the
warning on the telegram. Something simply did not ring true, facts he needed
were missing.
“What exactly am
I supposed to do Mr. Hayes? Has Phillipa run off to be with this man without
your permission?”
George shook his
head, biting his lip. “No, she has been given my permission.”
He glanced over
at Mrs. Hayes to gauge her reaction. She kept her gaze averted her body shaking
with rage. Her fist closed over her mouth as if this news had been the end of
the world as she knew it. Obviously, she did not approve of the marriage for
some reason.
If George had
sent the message to get him to bust up a squabble between him and his wife then
he had truly wasted a trip coming here.
“There is
nothing I have heard that warrants a visit from a sheriff or any other
authorities for that matter. If my only reason for coming down here is to
settle a disagreement between you two, then I fear that I have better, more
important things to do.”
He got out of
his chair, turning to leave when George shouted, “Wait!”
Letting his
breath out slowly, he did just that turning back to say, “George, you did a
wonderful thing helping me shape my life when I didn’t have a male figure to
guide me, but this fight with Rachel is beyond my duties as law enforcement. If
you need to contact me again for an actual dangerous situation, please don’t
hesitate. But, until then…”
George said
something that made him stop in his tracks, right at the door, about to turn
the knob. “She doesn’t want to marry him Jacob. In fact, she hates me for
making her.”
Curiosity, pure
and simple broke through his annoyance. He walked back into the room. His glare
told the man he meant business. “Tell me everything right now or else I will
leave.”
Without
flinching, George faced him. Finally, he did not hesitate. “I explained to her
everything I did in the past and why I did it. I told her why she had to marry
him and why I could not accept no for an answer. She is about to pay for my
sins.”
Before he could
either punch George in the eye or lose his temper completely, he forced his body
back into the chair gripping the arm rests. “Come on now George, you are still
hiding things from me. If you want me to able to do anything, I need to know
what you are talking about.”
George glanced
at his wife, who began weeping again. She refused to acknowledge her husband.
Her posture remained stiff, unyielding and utterly unlike the woman he had
always known. His actions in the past must have been horrible; otherwise Rachel
would not be so upset.
“You know me as
the wise, decent sort. But, in the past, as a boy I didn’t have any structure.
Like you, my pa left my ma when I was young. I thought his leaving had been my
fault. I acted out of anger and hurt. At the age of fourteen I met with two
other boys exactly like me. We began fleecing folks with a card game called
Find the Queen…”
He rubbed his
eyes with the back of his hands. “The game consisted of three cards, a jack, an
ace and the queen. We shuffled the cards really fast, told the person playing
to find the queen by pointing. It’s not as easy as it seems.They didn’t know
that when they weren’t looking, by a slight movement of the hand that the queen
gets deposited into the dealer’s pocket and another card takes its place. And,
therefore no one ever wins…”
Sweat dotted his
brow; George wiped it off with his sleeve. “After that con ran its course, we
picked pockets, made bets that only we could win and so on. Our crimes did not
stop there. We got more confident went from petty thieves to much worse.”
Rachel grew
stiffer as the story went on, fidgeting in her chair. Now, he knew the reason
for her anger, she had only found out recently about his criminal history. The
more George spoke, the more he realized the man who had taken Phillipa to be
his wife, must be blackmailing him.
But, he let
George continue for he had to hear the truth with his own ears.
“We called
ourselves the Lone Boys Gang. At the ages of 17, 16 and 15 respectively, I
being the one 17 years old, began robbing trains. To hide our identities we
wore masks, disguised our voices and as most thieves do, we carried weapons. By
the grace of god we got lucky over the first few years that no one got hurt. We
never got caught…”
Shifting in his
chair, he listened without judgment, at least not yet, for he wanted to hear
every last word.
“The money we
filched was divided and kept hidden in our personal strongboxes. We knew it
would be stupid to put such large amounts of money in the bank. And, well, I
still have my stash hidden somewhere only I know where it is…”
Rachel mopped
away the tears from her cheeks, sniffling loud. George paused to go to her,
placing his hand on her shoulder to try to lend comfort. She thrust his hand
away. “Get off me, you lying thief!”
George flinched,
he backed away. Remorse for his actions showed in his hazel eyes. Rachel
harbored so much anger; he knew that his mentor would not be so easily
forgiven. He hated intruding on what should have been a private moment, but he
had no choice. He had asked for his help and he would give it.
“Our luck
eventually ran out. On a train headed for Omaha, we held up a rather fancy,
private rail car. The folks were in their late twenties with a son who appeared
to be about twelve.
The man, even
with guns pointed at him fought and refused to give up any of his possessions." George stifled a
sob as he relayed the tale. “I saw the man’s need to protect his wife and son.
I told the men that perhaps we should go…”
Clearing his
throat, George carried on. “The youngest Zeb, the greedy, impulsive bastard
refused. He convinced our other partner Hank to go on as planned. The father
struggled with Zeb, trying to wrestle away the gun. I tried to intervene but it
happened so fast…”
Tears rolled
down George’s face. “The gun went off, the man’s eyes rolled back in his head
and he died. The wife, full of rage, grief and who knows what else lunged at
me…”
He swallowed
hard. “I really didn’t mean to hurt her I just wanted her to stop. She kept
scratching me, clawing at my face and she even bit me. I pulled the trigger and
down she went. Like her husband, she died instantly. The only one left had been
the boy.”
Holding tightly
to the chair, he asked, “Did your gang kill him too?”
Shaking his
head, he sighed heavily. “After the woman died, I turned to the group and told
them to take the valuables and run. I convinced them the boy wouldn’t be any
trouble. I was relieved when Zeb found a conscience and left the boy alone.”
He found himself
at a loss trying to reconcile the difference between the generous man who had
been practically a father to him and a true friend, and the thief and murderer
of his youth. The vision simply would not meld in his mind into a coherent
picture.
Everything
finally made an odd bit of sense and a sick feeling crept into his stomach.
“The boy we
saved grew up to be a bitter man. I had no idea he had been living in this town
for years, waiting and watching for the perfect opportunity to gain revenge. He
had been keeping an eye on my daughter, watching her grow seeing her become a
wonderful lady…”
Crossing his
arms over his chest, his gaze grew far away as if he had given up hope. “His
first visit had been as one of my daughter’s suitors and I ran him off with my
shotgun. No one I had met before him or after was ever good enough for my only
child. But, that does not matter to the story and I have to tell you the rest…”
George collapsed
back into his chair. He grimaced as he drank a few more sips of his coffee.
“The man, I must say remained persistent. One day as Phillipa went to the
corner store for flour; there he was standing at the corner. He introduced
himself and proceeded to try to work his way into her heart.”
He sighed,
rubbing his forehead. “She came home telling me of this man, who in her own
words gave her quite a shiver of horror. I told her the next time she ventures
out to take someone with her and to be very careful. But, he didn’t quit. He
kept trying to talk to her, to pretend to be nice and he failed…”
Jacob gritted
his teeth, fearing where this story would go.
“Over a period
of two weeks, after failing in his attempts to woo my daughter, he showed up
here at the house. I grabbed my shotgun over the mantle telling him to get out.
But, then he said to me that I shouldn’t be so hasty. If I were to throw him
out again, he would tell everyone how I had killed a family, a father and a
mother in front of a child. His face full of malicious glee, he also told me I
should hear him out completely or face the hangman’s noose.”
Rachel turned,
finally facing her husband. She gasped. “You chose your own neck over your
daughter?”
George ignored
her question. Instead, he kept talking as if he had to get everything off his
chest right away. “We went into my study and I locked the door. I put away the
gun and listened. When he relayed the story of me and two men robbing a train
car with a man, woman and child inside, I knew without a doubt my past had
caught up with me. I asked him straight out how he knew I had been involved.
The man, who
then introduced himself as Pete McKinney said he received a visit from Zeb.
According to Pete, Zeb had confessed to what he had done out of guilt. How he
had found the boy had been easy enough, the investigation about the deaths had
been placed into the paper and they had printed their names and address…”
George chuckled
humorlessly. “I would eat my right foot if Zeb had actually confessed out of
guilt. When Pete told me that Zeb said he only had a few months to live, I knew
his supposed guilty conscious only happened because he wanted to meet his maker
without that blemish tarnishing his soul.
I should know,
because I recalled the vicious person he had become. Yes, he could have changed
like I did, but I doubt it.”
Jacob stared at
George wondering if indeed he truly had changed. Zeb, the supposed mean one of
the bunch had confessed, while George wouldn’t have ever said anything, if it
weren’t for this Pete getting too close to Phillipa.
“I’m sure that
you will now tell me how Pete ended up going off with your daughter and with
your permission, no less.”
George nodded.
“Needless to say, the bastard grinned at me, denying my requests to apologize.
The look in his cold, dead brown eyes said everything. Not only would he carry
out his threat to see me hanged, but he would also do to me what I had done to
him years ago…”
Rachel’s face
turned white as a sheet. “What are you saying?”
George directed
the answer to them both. “Pete said that if I did not allow him to take
Phillipa off to be his bride that he would come back at night with a gun and
shoot all of us in our sleep.”
Gazing directly
in his eyes, George shuddered. “I believed him. The man is a monster that I
created. I helped kill his parents so; he wanted to kill me and Rachel.
Phillipa’s beauty and charm had been what kept us alive. I hate what I did, but
it had to be done. My past has ruined my future. I had to contact you.”
He sighed
heavily. Rachel reached over, threading her fingers through her husband’s hand.
The story George
told left him reeling. His confession told to him, a sheriff, a person sworn to
uphold the law would surely bring him to the hangman’s noose no matter what he
did.
If he were to
check older wanted posters and the stories of the many train robberies, he
could eventually find the evidence that could send the man to his death.
Murdering someone, especially during theft came with a heavy price. George knew
that. He had taken a gamble by telling him the truth.
They had never
been ones to mince words with one another before. He would not stop now.
“George, I am sure you know what this means. If I go after your daughter and
bring her home everyone will surely find out about your treachery.”
Rachel gasped.
George squeezed her hand. “I know the consequences Jacob. I regret allowing her
to go with him. I wish I had made a better decision. But, he had frightened me
and I took action without thinking. Will you please help? I know you won’t let
Phillipa suffer because of me.”
Jacob rose from
his chair. “I will go find her. Hopefully it won’t be too late. How long ago
did they leave?”
“Well, twenty
minutes after she left with him, I ran out of the house and went to the nearest
telegraph office. That was over an hour ago. Sheriff, I hope to hell that I
haven’t doomed her already.”
He nodded. “Stay
put, do not try to leave town or else I will round up a posse to find you. We
will settle things between us after your daughter is safe. Are we clear Mr.
Hayes?”
George nodded
sharply once. “Yes, we’re clear. Just find my daughter, I beg of you.”
