Want... dolls!
Bridget was terrified.
She wanted to go to Brendan, but what if he got shot and killed next?
She heard the back door open; a squeak of a floorboard; in the flickering half light of the lantern, Lorenzo's face staring sightless to the ceiling. She ran, before Charlie could get in and catch her, she hobbled up the stairs and dashed into her bedroom. She jumped into bed in her bloodstained nightdress and cuddled up to her favourite dolly. She was the one with the missing leg and the vacant stare. No one could hurt her there.
She would just go to sleep now. And have nice dreams. And in the morning, everything would be all right.
I took an oath for this job. The oath says bring him in. That's what I'll do.
As Charlie made his way into the front room, he could hear someone going up the stairs. He was in half a mind to go up and find out who it was but he was distracted by the sight of Crabbe lying on the floor. It was not the first dead person he had seen and it wouldn't be the last, especially if he was going to make a career out of being a lawman.
Going over to the body he squatted down and picked up one of Crabbe's arms. It fell listlessy back onto the floor. He checked for other signs of life and found none. Standing back up again, he thought about going upstairs once more. The only person he could think that would be up would be the girl, Bridget who lived here or that Chinaman. Whoever it was must have seen what had happened and knowing that the marshall might want to question them, he decided this time to go up...
"The law is the law."
"Mining's not everyone's choice of hobbies, it just happens to be mine."
First, Speed was glad Brendan Connolly was stepping outside, second, that he did not have a gun, that he could see. But Brendan Connolly did not strike him as the kind that had a hideout gun, or would try any trickery. Of course there was always a first time for everything.
"Alright, you can lower them hands. Seems you are always turning up with dead folks. Not a good habit." Speed remarked, mentioning Connolly's habit of turning up with dead people. "So, I reckon there's a story to go with this and rather than haul you in for a Judge to sort this out, I'll be willing to hear your side of this one. First though, Miss Monahan, she see what happened, and second, where's the Chinaman, Fa?"
"Smokey! Sic em, boy, sic em!"
"Alright, you can lower them hands. Seems you are always turning up with dead folks. Not a good habit." Speed remarked, mentioning Connolly's habit of turning up with dead people.
Granny Miggins was appalled at the Marshall's soft attitude to the obvious murderer. "That's true! He murdered that poor boy Billy, it's all around the town, and now he's plugged Crabbe! Look at all that blood! Don't let him put his hands down Marshall - desperate character like that'll have a secret weapon someplace!" she exclaimed excitedly.
But the, to Granny's mind, much too forgiving Guyer was all ears for some feeble, cobbled together excuse for this carnage from the clearly shifty looking (and allegedly Catholic) Connolly.
"So, I reckon there's a story to go with this and rather than haul you in for a Judge to sort this out,...
"I agree about not botherin' a Judge!" Granny carped, "let's get a lynch mob together!" but tender-hearted Henry S. ignored her and carried on his careful examination of the handsome cowboy.
"... I'll be willing to hear your side of this one. First though, Miss Monahan, she see what happened, and second, where's the Chinaman, Fa?"
A 'Chink'? Mrs Miggins peered into the house, expecting any second to hear the screams of Charlie Wentworth as the furtive yellow-peril gave him the 'death by a 1000 cuts'!
At Speed's words, Brendan jerked his head around to look back at the house. It was good he hadn't gone out the back door, then. He waited for Bridget to appear with Charlie, but all he heard was a quick thumping of Bridget's leg on the floor that faded.
What was she doing? He frowned as he lowered his hands and looked back at Speed, nodding sheepishly. He did have a habit of ending up with dead people. But it wasn't really funny at the moment, and it certainly wasn't funny when Granny Miggins let loose.
"That's true! He murdered that poor boy Billy, it's all around the town, and now he's plugged Crabbe! Look at all that blood! Don't let him put his hands down Marshall - desperate character like that'll have a secret weapon someplace!"
Brendan's head came up. "I did not murder Billy, and I sure as hell didn't murder Crabbe!" The only secret weapon he had was his eyes, which were glaring hurt daggers at the old woman. Billy's death was still painful, and to accuse Brendan of it was doubly painful.
And now she wanted to get up a lynch mob? Brendan swallowed, hoping the Marshal would have more sense than to listen to Granny Miggins. And, praise be, he did. Brendan clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and answered Speed's questions."
"Bridget saw what happened. She was right there in the room with us." He paused and flexed the fingers on one hand. "Fa left earlier today, to go to New York. That's what he told Arabella and me." He felt a sudden rush of relief at the fact that part of his story could be backed up by Arabella (although if he'd thought about it a little more, the relief might have vanished since Arabella had the tendency to embellish things).
"The law is the law."
"Mining's not everyone's choice of hobbies, it just happens to be mine."
"Alright now Nellie Miggins, there'll be no lynchings in this town while I'm Marshal, and I'd appreciate it if you'd not spread such half truths about town!" Speed decried the woman. "Maybe it's best if you just run along while I conduct this investigation, or, you quit stirring it up with your wild accusations when no one knows what has happened."
He turned back to Brendan, "Now, maybe you'll tell me exactly what happened in that house. In fact, lets you and I go on inside and I can see what you're talking about. And Nellie, you can wait out here." That was not a request. Of course he did run the risk of her heading back into town and spreading the news wherever she could, which would most likely be to the saloon crowd. A risk worth taking, he felt.
"Smokey! Sic em, boy, sic em!"
"Alright now Nellie Miggins, there'll be no lynchings in this town while I'm Marshal, and I'd appreciate it if you'd not spread such half truths about town!" Speed decried the woman.
"Hmm! Well, someone's gotta do it: that newspaper we got ain't worth a damn." the old battleaxe reasoned.
"Maybe it's best if you just run along while I conduct this investigation, or, you quit stirring it up with your wild accusations when no one knows what has happened."
"Well, git on and ask him! Oh, this should be good, he's had time to think of a tall tale by now." the old woman opined, peering at Brendan through her spectacles. He was a fine figure of a man, she'd give him that, even smeared with Crabbe's blood. If she'd been a couple years younger, she might have gone for him herself; but even if he was a looker, a cold blooded murderer was due an invitation to a neck-tie party.
He turned back to Brendan, "Now, maybe you'll tell me exactly what happened in that house. In fact, lets you and I go on inside and I can see what you're talking about."
Granny Miggins started forward, too, but the Marshall retarded her progress.
"And Nellie, you can wait out here." That was not a request. Of course he did run the risk of her heading back into town and spreading the news wherever she could, which would most likely be to the saloon crowd. A risk worth taking, he felt.
The Septuagenarian Nellie Miggins just gave the young whippersnapper Henry S. Guyer II and baleful look of distain and, as soon as they were inside, got into position where she could look through the window and see what was going on. There was no sign of the idiot girl or Charlie Wentworth (who wasn't much better in the mental department in Granny's not-so-humble opinion).
I took an oath for this job. The oath says bring him in. That's what I'll do.
Meanwhile, Charlie had made his way upstairs and was checking every room to see if he could find the Chinaman, Bridget or both of them. He finally came to the room where Bridget was. First of all he knocked on the door and when he got no answer, he went in ((just like he had done for the other rooms) . Having picked up a lit candle that was on a small table near the top of the stairs, he could see that there was something or someone on the bed. Commonsense told him that it wouldn't be the Chinaman hiding in the bed but Bridget.
Not wanting to scare her, Charlie stepped slowly back out of the room. By the time he got out, he could hear the front door opening again. Hoping that it was the marshall, Charlie went to the top of the stairs and knowing that any loud noises might scare Bridget, he waited to see who it was.
"The law is the law."
"Mining's not everyone's choice of hobbies, it just happens to be mine."
"Charlie? Where are you?" Speed called out, not shouting, just calling for his deputy. He looked up and saw the candlelight, and Charlie, at the top of the stairs. "Where's Bridget?"
He looked to Connolly. "I hope, for your sake, she's alright." It was not unheard of that for whatever reason the girl might have been injured, and Speed had no idea what had happened, other than Connolly said Crabbe was dead. "So where's the body?"
The body would be the best place to start, that would clear up a whole lot for the Marshal, who wanted to get to the bottom of what had transpired in the former funeral parlor, and what a convenient place to have expired, by whatever method.
Want... dolls!
Bridget hid under the covers and squeezed her eyes shut when she heard the door open: she knew it wasn't Lorenzo or Brendan. She just knew that if she closed her eyes real hard and went to sleep, she would wake up and the day would start again, just like it always did and Lorenzo and Charlie Fa would be there and they would have breakfast together and then she would go out and she might meet Arabella or Jemima or Miriam or Brendan or even that pretty lady who sang so nice at the saloon.
And she would put walk around the town and look in all the store windows and then walk around again, and again. And sometimes she would see a penny on the boardwalk and take it to nice Mr Wentworth in the bank and he would put it in her savings account for her.
It worked. Thinking about all these nice things, these nice usual things in her life made the person go away. She kept thinking of the nice things. That would make everything be all right.