Chapter Forty-One
Eugene Gordon tapped ever so lightly on the door to Roger Mareck's room. The bodyguard's boss was nursing one doozie of a hangover and that--coupled with the unbearable heat and humidity--was causing the normally ill-tempered little man to be even more ornery and cross!
"Wha-at?!" Mareck demanded upon opening the portal.
"Polk wants to see you, sir. Says it's real important."
"Well, where is he?!" Mareck impatiently inquired.
"He's waiting for you over at the Marshal's Office."
"Well, I hope he isn't holding his breath! 'Cuz, he's crazy if he thinks I'm coming to him!"
"Delliss has been shot. Polk took him over to Crown's Office, looking for the Doc."
"Delliss shot?! Well, who shot him?!"
"That's what he claims he wants to see you about, sir," the bodyguard explained and then stepped aside as his belligerent, but curious, boss elbowed his way past him.
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"What's this all about, Polk?!" Mareck angrily shouted above the painfully loud--and incredibly annoying--sound of a bawling baby.
"Crown's ALIVE!" the gunman answered, equally angrily.
"You are crazy!" Mareck realized bitterly, "You've been standing out in the sun too long!"
"Weren't the sun that sent Haney an' the others straight ta hell!" Polk assured him,"An' it weren't no figment a' my imagination that put this here slug in Delliss' shoulder!" he added, pointing to his pale, bleeding partner-in-crime with his free right hand. In his left hand--and tucked tightly under his left arm--was the fussing source of all that painful and awful crying!
"Can't you shut that kid up?!" Luther Nyman anxiously inquired, seeing the ill effect the sound was having on their already ill-tempered boss.
Polk's reply was to shove the cryin' kid into the nagger's open arms.
"Where is Crown?!" Dennis Bowlen disbelievingly asked.
"By now? He should be on his way here!" Polk confidently replied.
"Are you sure?!" Mister Gordon wanted--needed to know.
"Yeah, I'm sure! That ki-id is the Marshal's son!"
Mareck's dazed gaze shifted to the sobbing child Polk was pointing at. The bodyguards watched as their bewildered boss staggered over to the undead 'legends' desk and then stood there, staring down at the book which was still setting there. "DAMN THAT MAN!" he screamed for the second time that day, and slammed his clenched fist down hard on the book's front cover, "Mister Bowlen, I want you to ride out and deliver the Marshal a little ultimatum!" The bodyguard's squinting boss was just about to slap the sobbing infant into silence.
And Mister Bowlen was just about to leave on his assigned errand, when something in the Office's front window suddenly caught his eye, "That won't be necessary, Mister Mareck. Crown's coming in on his o-own..."
Roger Mareck lowered his raised right arm. Then he--and his entourage--left the Federal Marshal's Office to go have a look for themselves.
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Miss Coopersmith had heard the crying baby and crept downstairs to investigate. She heard everything that was said, including that Jim was coming. The girl slipped out of the Inn--unnoticed...and then stood there--in the grip of fear! "Oh-oh, Jim!" Dulcey cried out in anguish as she, too, caught sight of him, "No!" came her desperate plea as the broke free and began to flee from the boardwalk. "No-o!" she repeated emphatically, and flew off down the dusty street to intercept-- and thus somehow save--the doomed-to-die lawman.
The girl's slim hopes were bolstered somewhat as other people began to appear on the boardwalks on both sides of the street she was racing down. When she saw that these people possessed weapons--and that they apparently shared the same noble notion that she had--her hopes soared!
"Plea-ease, Jim?!" the out-of-breath girl begged, latching onto the lawman's lathered mount by it's bridle and bringing it to a bone-jarringly abrupt stop, "You musn't!"
The Marshal braced himself and winced in pain as his horse--and thus he--suddenly halted. Then he braced himself again--and immediately dismounted.
"You can't go down there!" Dulcey determined, rushing into her big brother's arms, "They'll kill you!"
Cro-own, who didn't get the chance to brace himself before receiving her bear hug, grimaced and then released his held breath with an involuntary 'groa-oan'.
The girl heard the groan and pulled back to stare up at her suicidal--and still grimacing--friend.
The now fully-recovered lawman flashed the very affectionate--and extremely apologetic looking--female a forgiving smile, which was closely followed by an equally affectionate--though much more careful--embrace of his own. Then, before his kid sister could recover, Crown shoved her aside and started striding stiffly off down the street--in the direction of his Office.
"Stop, Jim! Plea-ease!?" Dulcey pleaded, but to no avail.
The Marshal kept right on walking, his intense gaze shifting all the while from Mareck...to Jamie...and then back to Mareck again, "I see you've finally managed ta pick on someone yore own si-ize!" he called out rather contemptuously and continued to approach his would-be assassins.
"There must be some other way!" Miss Coopersmith cried, catching up to the lawman again and latching onto him--literally--for dear life. Surely, there had to be another way!
Crown came to another painfully abrupt halt and then stood there, in the middle of Main Street, glaring angrily across at the five little men who were spread out and positioned smack dab in front of his Office. After patiently prying Miss Coopersmith's fingers from his left forearm, the Marshal motioned for her to move away from him--and hence out of their 'line of fire'.
Speaking of their line of fire...
Dulcey saw that Roger Mareck now had that little revolver of his trained squarely on the toddler's sobbing chest, and begrudgingly did just as Jim directed.
"Let the boy go, Mareck!" Crown advised, redirecting his full and undivided attention back to his arch nemesis.
But Mareck, who sensed that the Marshal was now his for the taking, just stood there--defiantly--up on the boardwalk, basking in the glow of his impending victory...savoring every satisfying second of it!
"I sai-aid let 'im go!" the Marshal repeated, over the heart-breaking sound of Jamie's sobs.
"Throw down your gun first!" the little man countered finally, that sickening smirk reappearing upon his smug face.
All eyes watched as the lawman withdrew his weapon and then--much to most everyone's dismay--dropped it into the dust at his feet.
Mareck's smug smirk broadened a bit and he motioned for Mr. Nyman to release the bawling baby.
The infant--who stopped crying the instant the big, bad bodyguard set him down--backed off the boardwalk on all fours, and then toddled over on two legs to where his tall buddy was standing.
Crown picked Jamie up and passed him on to Dulcey, "Take the boy inside, Biscuit," he told her tenderly, "an' then the both a' you STAY there!" he tacked on a bit more sternly.
"But Ji-im--" the girl began blurting in protest.
The Marshal flashed the uncooperative Miss Coopersmith the most pleading--the most desperate look that he could muster.
The little lady gave the lawman one final--deeply concerned--incredibly sad look and then began carting her precious cargo off. It was all up to the others no-ow...
"Stay with the girl!" Mareck shouted to his closest bodyguard.
Mr. Nyman nodded knowingly.
But then, for the others benefit, his boss added--even more loudly, "IF ANYONE TRIES TO INTERFERE HERE, YOU'RE TO KILL THEM BOTH!"
"DON'T WORRY," Crown countered, speaking equally loudly, "NOBODY WILL INTERFERE!" he promised--er, practically ordered, and shot the rifle-toting townsfolk--who had gathered with e-ve-ry intention of delivering their Marshal--that same pleading, desperate look he'd just given the girl, "I'm askin' you all...ta clea-ear the street..." he continued, the pleading, desperate tone in his voice matching the look on his face.
The crowd had 'But, Ji-im--' looks on their faces, too. However, like the girl, they obediently--albeit begrudgingly-- withdrew from view.
Dulcey, who was now crying openly, stood there on the boardwalk in front of her Inn and watched helplessly as any hope of saving her dear friend's life disappeared along with them, "NO-O!" she shouted one last, anguished time. Then she clutched the baby tightly to her breast and disappeared herself--back inside--with Mr. Nyman following closely on her heels.
"Take him!" Mareck told his two remaining bodyguards, "And tie him!" he added evilly, but then quickly recanted, "No! Wait!"
They did, as their boss ducked into the Marshal's Office for a few moments.
"Cuff him!" Roger Mareck reordered, reappearing with a set of the lawman's own manacles and tossing the metal restraints into the street.
The two thugs exchanged amused glances and obligingly cuffed the Marshal's wrists together--very securely--behind his back.
Gordy gave their prisoner's black hat a whack and sent it sailing.
Crown followed the path of his Stetson as it flew through the air and then settled into the dust--directly on top of his dropped pistol. 'Another interestin' development...' the lawman thought to himself as his guards latched onto him by his bound wrists and began shoving him towards their still smirking boss. So, he wasn't to be killed right away...he was to be 'cuffed around' for awhile first. Well, a live dog may be better off than a dead lion mos' days, but there were definitely times when bein' a dead lion had its advantages. An' it was definitely beginnin' to look like this was definitely one a' them!
The thugs escorted their prisoner across the street and then stood him before their employer--who remained aloofly up on the boardwalk.
"Where's my money?!" their gloating--but broke--boss, demanded.
"I believe the stage was headed East," came back their calm captive's quiet reply--er, lie-ie, "I imagine yore twenty thousand's prob'ly settin' around--gatherin' dust--in some freight office in St. Louie' 'bout now..."
Well, the money may have been out of Roger Mareck's reach, but the man responsible for that fact wasn't. So the big man balled his right hand up into a fist and rammed it--very forcibly--into the Marshal's mid-section.
"Uh-uhh!" Crown cried out involuntarily as his enemy's knuckles connected with his badly damaged--and so already incredibly so-ore--rib cage. 'Yes, sir!' the now doubled-up in agony lawman noted, sinking slowly to his knees in the dust before 'Mister' Mareck, 'This is definately a dead lion day all right!' All he had to do now was to get Mareck--and his hornets--mad enough to kill him--quickly and mercifully! At least he hoped they'd make it mercifully quick...
Roger Mareck stood there, staring down at the man who was now kneeling before him in the street, looking extremely pleased with himself, "So," he said rather snidely, "the LEGENDARY Marshal is just a mere mortal, after all..."
Crown gradually recovered and came up with a rather snide remark of his own, "Which...is more than...kin be said...for you-ou...Right, 'Mareck'?!"
"Meaning...?" Mareck inquired cautiously.
"Meanin'," the Marshal gasped, "I pity...the poor soul...that had the great misfortune...a' first liftin'...the ROCK...you crawled out from under!"
The bodyguards stared at one another and then at the lawman in utter disbelief! They couldn't believe he'd actually said that!
Their boss obviously didn't trust his hearing either, because it took an awfully long while for what had been said to finally sink in. But sink in it did--and the little man was LIVID! Mareck vented some of his fury by stepping down from the boardwalk and back-handing the Marshal across his smart mouth, "One more word out of you," he warned, bringing his revolver back into view and brandishing it in front of the lawman's face, "and you're a DEAD man!"
'Well, now...' Crown thought to himself, '...that was easy enough...' His smart--now slightly bleeding--mouth re-opened and he was about to utter one--FINAL--word...when his 'bride' suddenly appeared at his side...closely followed by his doctor.
"No-o!" Katelyn cried, clamping a hand over the stupid-actin' lawman's mouth. Crown's eyes met hers and she could tell by the look he gave her that he was not happy to see the two of them there. She flashed him back a look of bewilderment and betrayal before throwing herself upon him, "For someone who's been braggin' for days 'bout how he's NO-O angel," she gasped, locking both arms about his neck, "you sure are in an awful BIG HURRY ta become one!"
Crown caught the bitterness and the anger in her comment and realized that maybe he owed the woman, his 'wife', an explanation, "'For the living know...that they will die..." he began, quoting from Ecclesiastes, "...but the dead are conscious of nothing...nothing at all...'" he finished solemnly--in a whisper.
Katelyn pulled her head back a bit. Their gazes met again and she could clearly see all the pain--both physical and emotional--that was there in her husband's dreamy, dark eyes. "But...they wouldn't!" she insisted, "They COULDN'T! They would never KILL Jamie!" she stated adamantly and looked to Roger Mareck for reassurance. Needless to say, she received none!
"No-o..." the Marshal assured her, "Not as long as they got me...an' nobody interferes..." he added on as a warning, and then quickly looked away. He couldn't bare to see all the pain and sadness being reflected in the lady's lovely, dark eyes.
"I know we had this 'understanding'," Doctor Jarrod Michael Ellis admitted, dropping himself and his little black bag into the dust beside his pained patient, "but it's like you said, Marshal--a man has to play the hand he's dealt..." And--with that little reminder--he emptied the contents of the hypodermic syringe--that was hidden in his right hand--into the lawman's left arm.
The Marshal stiffened--with the sudden realization of what it was the young doctor was hinting at. In that same instant, he felt a familiar 'sting'.
"You forget, my darling," Katelyn whispered as her husband's dark eyes suddenly blazed wide with anger, "this is 1893, a-an', thanks ta the miracles a' modern medicine, a man no longer has ta DIE-IE ta feel nothing...nothing at a-all..." she finished softly, and continued to hold on to him.
Even before the lovely lady's little reminder, it had dawned on Jim Crown that he would undoubtedly be dead soon, and that it didn't matter, one way or the other, if he was drugged, or not. Then again, perhaps it did matter. Mareck would kill him all right--sooner or later. The morphine was bound to make his dying much more bearable...should it come later. His anger fled and he flashed the young physician--who had just dealt him another ace up his sleeve--a much obliged look.
Jarrod shot the 'legendary lawman' an 'I wish there was something more that I could do for you...' look.
"Take her...inside," Crown quietly requested, taking his young friend up on his offer.
"ON YOUR FEET!" Roger Mareck shouted sharply, "ALL OF YOU!" he added and motioned for his henchmen to give the group on the ground a hand, or--more appropriately--a strong-arm up!
Katelyn numbly allowed the two bullies to tear her away from their prisoner. But then she realized she hadn't kissed him goodbye. "Please?!" she pleaded as they turned her over to the doctor, "Jes' let me say goodbye?!"
"You had your chance, lady!" Mr. Gordon reminded her, "Now the two of you had better get inside!"
Katelyn ignored the shouted order and--instead--got angry...so angry that the young physician failed to keep a firm grip on her.
Roger Mareck's roughnecks caught Katelyn again and began carting her off--kicking and screaming.
"TAKE YORE HANDS...OFF OF HER!" the still on his knees lawman advised, seeing the very firm grips that the two men had on his beautiful wife's body.
The two thugs stopped dead in their tracks. But then the pair took one look at their kneeling, hand-cuffed captive...and another, longer look at the very voluptuous lady...and decided to disregard the lawman's shouted order.
The next thing everyone knew, the Marshal was on his feet and both bodyguards were on the ground.
Denny, who had been rammed in the back and thus slammed into the dust--face first--from behind, turned rather dazedly to his drop-kicked, equally dazed looking associate, "What the he--?!" the completely bewildered--not to mention embarrassed--bodyguard began, only to be interrupted.
"GET UP, YOU IDIOTS!" Roger Mareck urged rather vehemently as the human rocket rolled rather deftly up onto his feet and then turned to face him.
The two thugs turned to each other again and exchanged irate glares. Their boss had been a bit too vehement! It was bad enough that a man with both hands tied behind his back had just gotten the better of them--without having to be belittled by their boss in front of the town's entire male population! (True, the rifle-toters were out of their view, none-the-less, they were still out there--waiting and watching.) The two humiliated henchmen decided--right then and there--to really give them something to look at.
"NO-O!" Katelyn screamed as Mareck's bullies scrambled to their feet and then began circling the lone lawman, looking determined now to tear him apart...limb-from-limb.
Sensing that the lady might be tempted to intervene somehow in the ensuing fracas, Jarrod proceeded to lock his arms about the woman's waist and pull her into his protective custody.
As it turned out, the woman worried needlessly, for--even without the use of his arms--the two meanies proved to be no match for the Marshal, who--while maybe not having as much to fight with--had so much more to fight for! And fight he did! Sort of Indian fashion. And he fought better with just his feet, than the two thugs did using all four of their fists!
"ALL RIGHT! THAT'S ENOUGH!" Roger Mareck finally determined, seeing that the Marshal was once again about to get the better of his bodyguards. "Your lady friend, here won't look so pretty with a bullet hole between her eyes!" he continued as the amazingly agile lawman continued to dodge and down his attackers.
This time, Crown took the hint and immediately turned himself into a statue--which his enraged enemies easily toppled!
"NO-O!" Katelyn screamed again and proceeded to bury her pretty face in the young doctor's chest. She couldn't bear to see the now non-resisting Marshal being beaten into submission. "STOP IT!" the woman cried out in anguish and tried to cover her ears. She couldn't bear to hear him being beaten into submission, either! But she couldn't block it out. And, since they obviously weren't going to put a stop to it, Katelyn determined that she would have to do it herself! The woman hastily whispered something to the doctor, then she broke free of his grasp again and went racing over to where her husband lay writhing in the street. Katelyn flung herself down upon the lawman and then used her body to shield his body from their boots and blows.
The Marshal's assailants used the lady's sudden intervention as an excuse to stand back and catch their breath. Whew! It was hotter than a Mexican chile in that street!
Jim Crown suddenly felt a body on top of him...Katelyn's--judging by the shape and feel. He couldn't bring himself to actually look at her. "Dulcey's got...Jamie...inside..." he breathlessly informed the boy's mommy, "...Why don' you...an' the Doctor...GO-O...JOIN THEM!" he added, turning what he had intended to be a helpful suggestion into a direct order.
Seeing as how her husband couldn't bring himself to face her, Katelyn tenderly turned his head in her direction, "I'm so-o sorry," she said, sounding sadder than sad, "I never meant ta cause you any--"
"Ain't none a' this...any...a' yore doin'!" the Marshal interrupted, "Besides...thanks ta you two..an' yore...'miracle a' modern medicine'...I managed ta get in a few good licks..." he finished softly.
The woman watched as a slight smile of satisfaction appeared for an instant or two on the lawman's tightly pursed lips. The lady chose that moment as the time to bid her man goodbye, packing all of the love--and passion--of a lifetime into one last, lingering kiss.
When at last their kiss had ended, Jim Crown forced his tightly shut eyes open for one last, lingering look, "Still felt more like hello..." he whispered rather regrettably. And the two of them exchanged sadder than sad smiles.
"THERE!" Mareck screamed, "YOU'VE SAID GOODBYE! NOW GET INSIDE!"
Mareck's hunched-over henchmen watched while the doctor helped the lady to her feet. They were in no hurry to lay their hands on her, this time.
Speaking of ha-ands...
From his flat on his back in the street position, Jim Crown suddenly caught sight of several pairs of them, all of which were holding onto rifles--the barrels of which were protruding from the false front of the building directly across from the Wayfarer's. At first, he took the snipers to be townspeople. But then he spotted a certain peculiarly-colored coat sleeve. Seems he'd seen that particular coat sleeve before. The arm in it belonged to one of two men who had been in that restaurant with Rutger's awhile back. But what were Rutger's men doing up on that roof?...with rifles? And what if they were to 'interfere' here in some way? Would Mareck's man inside mistake them for townsfolk, too?! And then carry out his bloodthirsty boss' order to 'KILL THEM BOTH'?! Crown carefully considered these latest developments over for a somber second or two...and then quickly came up with a pla-an...of sorts. "An'...STAY...inside!" the peace officer pleaded, "I believe I'm about ta...step in front of a movin' train...out here," the Marshal hinted as Mister Mareck's 'box cars' jerked him--very roughly--to his feet, "an' it's...NOT...gonna be a...pretty...sight!" he tacked on rather truthfully--when he had recovered enough to speak. "An' I ain't referrin'...ta the one...out a' Shades Wells," he further hinted.
Jarrod nodded his acknowledgment of the lawman's last request and then promptly proceeded to fulfill it.
Speaking of being hit by a train...
Mareck--who wanted to take his revenge out on Crown before killing him--finally picked up on the Marshal's dropped 'hints' and realized that he could have his revenge on the lawman WHI-ILE killing him! The thugs had propped their prisoner up before their boss--again--and the big man was about to ram his balled fist into the lawman's mid-section--again--when the idea suddenly 'hit' him! His smirk returned and his arm lowered, "The train from Shades Wells should be along shortly. What do you say we take the Marshal here out to meet it...HEAD ON?!"
His boys nodded their boss' plan approvingly. And all three of them exchanged sickening smirks.
Katelyn gasped as she overheard their plan and glanced back over her shoulder.
"Take care...a' my hat for me," Jim Crown requested of her, sounding completely unconcerned, "I may be needin' it...in just a bit..." he added with a wink.
"In just a short time from now," Mareck calmly corrected, "you won't be needing anything anymore!" And--along with that little morbid reminder--he delivered the blow he'd held off delivering a few moments before. Then--to his henchmen--he said, "Don't just stand there! Go find us some horses! And some rope! We'll be needing a couple of ropes!"
His men released their propped up prisoner.
Their boss' smirk broadened as the limp lawman doubled-up and then dropped into the dust at his feet. "MOVE IT!" Mareck told his dallying bodyguards, "We wouldn't want the Marshal, here to miss his trai-ain!"
His employees exchanged irate glances again. It was becoming harder and harder for the two highly-paid henchmen to tolerate their arrogant employer and his aloof orders. Bu-ut, they begrudgingly marched obediently off to do their boss' bidding.
Speaking of irate employees...
Mr. Polk came popping out onto the boardwalk, hopping mad! "Now wait just a minute, Mareck! I got 'im here, didn' I?! You kin kill 'im if you like--any way you like! Just let me have a little 'talk' with 'im first!"
"NO!" Roger Mareck immediately replied in a tone which said that he wouldn't even consider it.
"But," began the now enraged man, "since you saw fit ta murder that deputy--HE'S the only one left in the whole stinkin' town who knows where the hell my brother is!"
"NO-O!" Mareck repeated, "When we stand him up on those tracks, I want him to be fully aware of what's going on! If I let you 'talk' to him first--he'll never know what hit him! Now, go tell Mr. Nyman to get out here! Then, I want you to tend to the hostages! Oh, and Polk? Take the Doctor there with you," he added as an afterthought, "and have him tend to Mr. Dellis!"
The Marshal and everyone else--with the exception of 'Mister' Mareck--could plainly see how Mr. Polk felt about taking anymore of his arrogant boss' orders.
However, that last idea of Mareck's must've struck the gunman as a good one, because he turned in the young doctor's direction.
And, speaking of bright ideas...
As Polk caught sight of Katelyn, he came up with a rather brilliant one of his own! "Okay, Crown!" he shouted, pulling his weapon from his holster and the woman away from her escort, "You've got 'til the count a' ten ta tell me where my kid brother is!" he announced and pointed his now cocked pistol directly at Katelyn's head.
"Adrian's Canyon!" Crown came back before the gunman could even begin counting, "Now, LET HER GO!"
Polk stared down at the very obliging peace officer in absolute amazement for a few moments, but then that look was quickly replaced by another.
"He's there! I swea-ear!" the Marshal reassured the suspicious looking character.
There followed a few more anxious moments.
Apparently, Polk chose to believe him, because--after replacing his pistol--the gunman took the doctor, who--in turn--took Katelyn in tow, and began heading back into the building.
"Remember...what I said about my hat!" Crown called out after the woman. Those 'hands' were gone now, and--if he was right about whose hands they were and where they had gone to--he'd be needing his hat all right!
Upon hearing her doomed-to-die husband's strange comment, Katelyn turned to the young doctor and the two of them exchanged strange stares.
"Must be the morphine," Jarrod rationalized--in a whisper.
"REMEMBER WHAT I SAID ABOUT IT!" Roger Mareck shouted suddenly and rammed the still mouthy Marshal in the ribs--with the toe of his right boot.
"Uh-uhh!" their collapsed in a heap patient gasped, involuntarily, and tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle an agonizing 'groa-oan'.
The two medical professionals glanced at each other again with the painful realization that their 'modern miracle' must already be 'wearing off'.
Katelyn gasped herself--in anguish--and began heading for her hurting husband.
But Jarrod stopped and held her.
"In less than an hour," Mareck morbidly declared, "you are going to be losing your head! Why-y," he continued, sounding downright delighted by the gruesome prospects, "by the time that train is through with you--there won't be enough of you left to even hang a hat o-on!"
The morphine was definately wearing off, for Jim Crown was beginning to experience a tremendous degree of discomfort. His head was starting to throb, his caved-in rib cage was killing him, and he was being made increasingly aware of the sharp, metal bands which were encircling his wrists...and digging into his flesh...and gouging into his bones. 'What a lo-o-o-ong day...' the lawman thought, rolling off of his bound wrists and onto his left side--with a grimace and another 'groa-oan'. He had put up a good fight, all right. But now all of that over exertion was taking its toll. Mareck and his bodyguards must've done a good job of destroying the good doctor's sutures, too, because he suddenly noticed that the entire right front side of his shirt felt sort of warm and soggy. Which--no doubt--was also why he suddenly felt...so-o...groggy. The lawman gave his throbbing head a quick shake and then forced his tightly-squinting eyes open. That's when he spotted his other deputy. The boy's distinctive blonde head and familiar face was peering out at him from beneath one of the Inn's bat-wing doors. He caught Danny's attention and motioned with his head for the boy to come to him. Danny's blue eyes widened a bit and Crown could tell by the expression on his pale face that he wasn't exactly thrilled with his request.
However, his deputy aimed to please him and bravely crawled out into the open. "Marshal! Marshal!" the kid called out as he came running up to his injured boss, "Are you all right?!"
Crown eyed his young deputy approvingly. Not only was the kid courageous, but he was also a quick thinker! "I could use some help..gettin' u-up," he informed the boy--with a wink.
And Danny dutifully began assisting his boss up.
Their heads came together for a few moments, and the Marshal whispered a message to him. Crown then waited for some sign from the boy that would indicate that his message had been received and understood.
His deputy responded with a wink of his own.
"Run along, sonny!" Roger Mareck ordered, latching onto the helpful lad by the back of his shirt-collar and jerking him roughly away from his now kneeling prisoner, "I want the Marshal to STAY RIGHT WHERE HE IS!...For no-ow," he calmly added and calmly kicked the Marshal in the stomach.
Danny watched helplessly as his boss--hands cuffed behind his back--doubled over and then dropped back down into the dust.
Crown had cried out in pain when Mareck brought his boot up. And he groaned again--as his bruised body came into sudden contact with the ground--again...the hard ground...the very hard ground.
The boy yanked his collar free and took a step or two in the 'groaning' lawman's direction.
"Go on, Danny..." his breathless boss gently urged, "...do...as you were...to-old..."
Danny gave him a definite nod. He shot 'Mister' Mareck a defiant glare and then hurried over to his horse. The boy bounded up into his saddle and then went bolting off in a cloud of dust.
Crown heaved a sigh of relief as his deputy disappeared off down the street--in the direction of the Settlement. Then he winced. He shouldn't have heaved that sigh. He was currently in no condition to be heaving anything! It had been a lo-o-ong day for him! And he had this sinking suspicion that it would prove to be an even lo-o-o-o-onger night!
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Fifteen minutes, five horses, and two nooses later, Roger Mareck's little taking the Marshal out to meet the train 'HEAD ON' procession was finally ready to proceed. The lawman had been dumped onto his horse and he sat there, slumped in his saddle, wearing a couple of 'rustlers neckties'--and one still completely unconcerned look on his slightly battered face. Except for experiencing some difficulty in swallowing (The nooses had been pulled up very snugly about his neck..a bit too snugly, perhaps.) and in maintaining his seat, (It was hard for him to keep his balance with his hands bound behind his back.) the Marshal appeared incredibly calm. (All things considered.)
Why it almost seemed to Katelyn as though the lawman were actually looking forward to leaving town. The woman had taken up a new position--on the boardwalk in front of the Inn's main entrance...a position from which she could safely--and passively--observe the proceedings. The little lady, however, was anything but passive! In fact, if it weren't for the reassuring glances that Jim Crown kept shooting her way, she never would've been able to stay in one place--so stilly--for so lo-ong. It wasn't easy for a woman to stand idly by while the man that she loved was about to be so brutally murdered! And, in Katelyn's case, it was proving to be impossible! The lady was a Texan--born and bred. And Texas women were notorious for standing by their men--'come hell or high water'! And, yes, that even meant facing moving trains HEAD ON together! She shuddered at the gruesome thought and then shot her man an 'I cain't jes' stand here an' watch this happen to you!' look.
He flashed her back an 'Oh yes you ca-an!' glare. Then he winked again and directed his gaze downward--to his dropped hat.
'What is the significance a' that?' Katelyn wondered. Perhaps there was no significance? Maybe it was just the morphine? Then she remembered something...something that he had said to her that very morning...'That jes' goes ta prove one thing,' he had told her, 'even when I'm completely out a' my mind, I'm not completely out a' my mind!' Perhaps he had a plan? That's it! He had a plan! And he was keeping it under his ha-at?! 'A lot a' good it's gonna do 'im the-ere!' she realized glumly. Oh well, he wanted her to take care a' his hat--and so she would! Because he might be needin' it in just a bi-it'?! The woman exhaled an exasperated gasp and gazed up at her husband looking confused--and feeling frustrated.
Two of Mareck's bodyguards were now mounted alongside of the Marshal--Dennis Bowlen was on his right side and Luther Nyman was on his left--and in their hands were the coiled ends of the ropes that had been tied about her husband's neck.
Mr. Gordon--who was directly in front of them--had a firm hold on his horse's reins.
It was to Mr. Gordon that the lawman addressed his last request, "Kin I have my hat? I feel like I'm ridin' out half-dressed..."
The man considered the triviality of the matter over for a few moments and then nodded his consent to Katelyn.
However, circling the four of them--with a smile of deep satisfaction on his smug face--and sitting his horse like he was some sort of General or something, was Roger Mareck. And he--just as quickly--overruled Mr. Gordon's decision, "Leave it!" the little man told the little lady. "No-ow, let's MOVE OUT!" he ordered--at lo-ong last.
And all five horses started plodding off--in the direction of...the railroad tracks!
Katelyn just stood there and watched helplessly as Mr. Gordon started leading her husband's horse off down the street.
Speaking of the street...
No sooner were the gunmen out of sight, when Katelyn left the boardwalk and stepped into it. She made her way over to where the Marshal's hat lay and then stood there, hesitating to pick it up. If someone didn't come up with some sort a' plan pretty soo-oon, that hat was gonna be all that she had left of him. Katelyn shuddered again. The woman quickly shoved such morbid thoughts out of her mind and stooped down to retrieve the Marshal's Stetson. It was then that she noticed the thing wasn't resting flat on the ground. Something beneath the hat was causing it to set sort a' cock-eyed. She latched onto it by its brim and began lifting. Katelyn caught sight of what that something was and quickly covered it back up again. So-o, it wasn't a plan that Jim Crown was keeping under his hat--it was his pistol! And, if the Marshal might be needin' his gu-un in just a bit, then just maybe that meant that he wasn't so doomed-to-die, after all! Suddenly, all sorts of wild notions were racing through the woman's head. Why, she even allowed herself to fan that one little spark of hope that she'd managed to keep burning in the deep recesses of her breaking heart. The lady used two hands to pick the hat up this time--and immediately clutched it to her breast. If Jim Crown needed his hat...well then, SHE was jes' gonna have ta bring it to him!
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"What are you boys doing back here?!" Judge Rutgers demanded as his little hand-picked group of hired guns came rushing into his hotel room, "I didn't hear any shooting!"
The group's leader ran the sleeve of his tangerine-colored coat across his glistening brow and glared ominously back at his employer, "I been a lot a' things in my life, yer honor. But I ain' never been--an' don' never intend ta be--no baby killer!"
"I never ordered you to kill any babies!" Rutgers angrily reminded them, "I ordered you to kill Mareck!"
"Same thing!" the not completely unscrupulous gunman calmly said with a shrug.
Rutgers cursed, "Is Crown still alive?!"
"For the moment..." the gunman replied, exchanging glances--and grins--with the rest of his little group. "Anyways, it don't matter. We don' need the Marshal no more. 'Cuz we know where he's been keepin' the gentlemen in question."
"WHE-ERE?!" their employer eagerly inquired.
"Adrian's Canyon!" the smug looking man with the tangerine-colored coat triumphantly announced. Then he glanced around again--this time in bewilderment--as his reply drew another round of curses from the corrupt magistrate.
"Where is the Marshal NO-OW?!" Rutgers impatiently inquired, "Adrian's Canyon is a natural fortress! Five men could defend it against an Army! Without Crown's help, you'll never get those two out of there!"
The gunman exchanged grim glances with the members of his little group this time, and then suddenly looked extremely nervous. "Uh-uh, Mareck jes' hauled him outta town...ta meet the train out a' Shades Wells...HEAD O-ON!," the man with the odd-colored coat reluctantly concluded, and then glanced around the room yet again--now in complete confusion.
One moment, Rutgers was wearing an angry sco-owl. The ne-ext, he was doubled-up--with laughter!?
The boys turned their backs on their balmy boss and began heading for the door.
"Where...are you...going?!" the mirthful magistrate blurted between belly laughs.
"After Crown!" the group's leader called back over his shoulder. Then he came to a complete halt and quickly turned around, "You do want us to stop Mareck from killing him...Don't you?" he queried--with a bit of a grin. (The Judge's jocularity was becoming contagious.)
"By all means, Stevens!" Rutgers bellered, "By a-all means!...But...NOT right away!" he calmly clarified before relapsing into another round of hearty laughter.
Stevens--and the rest of the boys--just stood there, sadly shaking their heads. Their boss wasn't just a bit balmy--Rutgers was completely off'n his 'rocker'!