"Go ahead and hang me, it was worth it!"
Helena wasn't particularly better than Kalispell, there was just kinda more of it.
Zenobia Matthews, sitting in her cell, wouldn't be sad to leave the Territorial capitol, although she wasn't over-keen on the place she was going to, either. Funny feller that judge - sending her home to hang.
Oh well, at least she'd get away from jail visits by her unbearable cousin Josephina and her even less bearable husband, with his never-ending nerve-fraying talk about his plywood factory. If she could commit one more murder before she swinged...
Swung?
Swang?
Maybe the hangman would be able to inform her of the correct past participle.
Then again, Kalispell offered similar 'delights': her bumpkin cousins Leonora and Jacob and his pompous young wife, Clara, not to mention their annoying senile Grandmother. 'Bout time she died, wasn't it? She didn't think about her brother. She enjoyed hating people these days. It gave her an odd sort of solace, and she couldn't hate Johannes. He was the only one who really understood: he'd been there with her and her Father in the weeks before she'd blown his rancid brains out for him.
Well, one ray of sunshine: she should be honored, according to the man who locked her safe in her cell every night: she was to be escorted to Kalispell by a U.S. Marshall, no less, a, Mister Kerrigan, who would make sure that justice was carried out properly, this time, on the patricide.
Nice of him to take the time out. She'd have to remember to thank him.
She wondered, idly, if Roland would come to see her drop.
He hadn't written.
The first rays of dawn were just breaking over Helena when Duncan Kerrigan rode in, his horse’s hooves kicking up the chilled morning dust as he made his way to the jail. Sheriff John Bruner was already waiting by the jail door, his hat low over his eyes as he nodded at Duncan's arrival.
Dust clung to his coat and hat after the long journey. Duncan swung down from his horse, patting her neck as he cast a glance toward the barred window, where shadows stirred, turning towards the sheriff he met the mans gaze. "Mornin', Marshal," the sheriff greeted with a curt nod. "She’s waiting for you inside. Hasn’t said much."
Duncan dusted off his hat, and nodded back, his face set in a look of grim determination. "Let’s get her ready. The sooner we’re on the trail, the better," he replied. Together, the two men pushed open the heavy door and entered the dim main room of the jailhouse. It was quiet except for the faint creak of the floorboards as the two men made their way in and down the narrow corridor that led to the cells. In the dim morning light, Duncan finally laid eyes on Zenobia Matthews.
She was seated on the edge of a hard cot, her wrists bound loosely in front of her. Slim and pale, Zenobia looked almost delicate under the harsh light filtering through the bars. Her dark hair done in curls. For a moment, Duncan took her in, noting the calm stillness with which she held herself.
For a moment, silence hung thick in the air as they sized each other up. Whatever lay behind those cold, calculating eyes was something Duncan didn’t care to understand. He took a slow step forward, his boots echoing slightly in the confined space. Stopping at the bars. "Zenobia Matthews," he began, his voice level but firm. "I’m U.S. Marshal Duncan Kerrigan. I’m here to escort you to Kalispell. You’re wanted for the murder of your father that’ve left you bound for the gallows."
Javia
"Go ahead and hang me, it was worth it!"
For a moment, silence hung thick in the air as they sized each other up. Whatever lay behind those cold, calculating eyes was something Duncan didn’t care to understand. He took a slow step forward, his boots echoing slightly in the confined space. Stopping at the bars. "Zenobia Matthews," he began, his voice level but firm.
She looked up and moved her eyes over him from top to toe and back again, as if to say so, what new specimen of so-called manhood have they brought me now? Another senile Judge? Another mewling lawyer in a fancy vest? Another moronic turn-key? Another snake in the grass informer?
"I’m U.S. Marshal Duncan Kerrigan. I’m here to escort you to Kalispell. You’re wanted for the murder of your father that’s left you bound for the gallows."
"What do you mean I'm wanted for the murder of my Father? I'm not wanted, I'm found. Found guilty at that!" she corrected him scathingly. "Can't you idiots get anything right?"
"I suppose you're here to take me so I can be hanged in front of those cretins in Kalispell? Well?"
She stood, dwarfed by Kerrigan's impressive height and lithe but muscular physique.
"How are you going to get me there? Some kind of carriage I hope. I'm not riding, if that's what you think. I might fall off and break my neck!" she warned shrewishly. "And what about these?" she jangled her manacles and kicked a foot which caused her leg irons to jangle noisily on the prison floor. She'd escaped once before, when she had first shot her Father, her custodians in the Helena jailhouse were taking no chances. "You can't expect me to travel like this! If you tell them to take them off me, I promise not to try to escape."
"Justice doesn’t always wait for the law to catch up."
Duncan gave her a steady, unamused look, his mouth set in a firm line. He adjusted his hat, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth.
"Miss," he said evenly, "if you think I’m about to haul a carriage out here just for you, you’ve got another thing coming. We’re going by horseback. And you’ll manage just fine."
His gaze unwavering. "We are getting a horse for you, and if you hold on tight, you won’t fall. Simple as that. I’ll make sure the horse is steady enough for you, but that’s about all the special treatment you’ll get." He gave her a lopsided grin about the shackles. “As for those, (nodding towards the shackles), they stay on. You’re a clever one, I’ll give you that, but I’ve no mind to make this any easier for you. If you behave, I might be able to find a set of longer leg restraints."
Duncan then leaned in, his gaze unyielding. “Or, you can keep making noise and I’ll find a way to make the ride even less comfortable. Up to you, miss.”
Javia
"Go ahead and hang me, it was worth it!"
"Miss," he said evenly, "if you think I’m about to haul a carriage out here just for you, you’ve got another thing coming. We’re going by horseback. And you’ll manage just fine."
"Oh, will I?" the young woman replied tartly.
His gaze unwavering. "We are getting a horse for you, and if you hold on tight, you won’t fall. Simple as that. I’ll make sure the horse is steady enough for you, but that’s about all the special treatment you’ll get." He gave her a lopsided grin about the shackles. “As for those, (nodding towards the shackles), they stay on. You’re a clever one, I’ll give you that, but I’ve no mind to make this any easier for you. If you behave, I might be able to find a set of longer leg restraints."
"How kind, but don't bother, I refuse to ride a horse!" she declared roundly, tossing her head up proudly.
Duncan then leaned in, his gaze unyielding. “Or, you can keep making noise and I’ll find a way to make the ride even less comfortable. Up to you, miss.”
"Yes, it is up to me, and I've decided that I'm going nowhere until you arrange a suitable carriage for my transportation!" she snapped and sat her bottom down firmly on the bench in her cell. She gave a brittle little laugh. "Ha! Now what are you going to do?!"
"Justice doesn’t always wait for the law to catch up."
Duncan let out a sigh, his jaw tightening slightly. He glanced at Sheriff John Bruner, who had been leaning against the doorframe, quietly observing the exchange with a bemused expression.
“Sheriff,” Duncan drawled, his voice carrying a hint of exasperation. “Do me a favor and get the other horse ready, would you?”
Bruner raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that, Marshal? Seems like she’s dead set against riding.”
Duncan’s lips curled into a smirk as he turned back to the woman seated stubbornly on the bench. “Oh, she’ll ride. She’s just feeling theatrical.”
Then, leaning forward a bit more he spoke in a low, uncompromising tone. “Here’s how this is gonna go, miss. You’ve made your stand, had your laugh, but now it’s time to get moving. That horse’ll be saddled and waiting. You can walk out of here and get on it, or I’ll carry you out there myself and strap you to it. Either way, you’re leaving this cell, and we’re heading out. Your choice.”
He straightened, giving her a pointed look before stepping back toward the door. “John, make sure it’s a sturdy saddle. Looks like we’ve got a spirited one.”
"Go ahead and hang me, it was worth it!"
Duncan’s lips curled into a smirk as he turned back to the woman seated stubbornly on the bench. “Oh, she’ll ride. She’s just feeling theatrical.”
Zenobia gave a derisive laugh. “Ha! That’s right: if a man stands up for his rights, he’s admired. When a woman does it, she’s ‘hysterical’ or ‘dramatic’.”
Then, leaning forward a bit more he spoke in a low, uncompromising tone. “Here’s how this is gonna go, miss. You’ve made your stand, had your laugh, but now it’s time to get moving. That horse’ll be saddled and waiting. You can walk out of here and get on it, or I’ll carry you out there myself and strap you to it. Either way, you’re leaving this cell, and we’re heading out. Your choice.”
“Carry me then!” she snapped back “I’ve had men use their strength against me all my life, why stop now?”
He straightened, giving her a pointed look before stepping back toward the door. “John, make sure it’s a sturdy saddle. Looks like we’ve got a spirited one.”
“Oh and Johhhhhhn” Miss Matthews added sarcastically “… make sure it’s a side-saddle because the ‘little woman’ is wearing shackles on her ankles., so she can't get her legs over both sides.” Well, it was common sense, wasn’t it, so she doubted these men had thought of that.
"Justice doesn’t always wait for the law to catch up."
Duncan paused, his eyes narrowing slightly at Zenobia’s biting sarcasm. He crossed his arms, leaning against the cell bars with a deliberate calmness that only added weight to his words. “Miss Matthews, let me set something straight. I don’t think you’re hysterical. Stubborn? Sure. A pain in the backside? Definitely. But hysterical? Not even close. You’re sharp, quick with your tongue, and you’ve got enough fire to light this whole town. But none of that’s gonna change the fact that you’re leaving this cell today, and you’re riding.”
Before Zenobia could retort, Sheriff John Bruner strolled back in, dusting off his hands. “Horse is ready, Marshal. Even got a side-saddle for the lady, just like she asked. Figured it’d save us all some trouble.”
Duncan tilted his head toward the sheriff with a faint smirk. “See that, Miss Matthews? Someone around here’s got your comfort in mind. Not that you’ll appreciate it.”
He straightened up, unlocking the cell with slow, measured movements. As the door creaked open, he looked Zenobia square in the eye. “Now, you can keep testing me and see just how far my patience stretches, or you can take that sharp tongue of yours outside and put it to better use figuring out how to climb up on that saddle. Or I carrying you out, put you in the saddle, and tie you down.” She could hear it in his tone that he would do what he said, though he didn't necessarily want to.
He stepped back, gesturing toward the open door. “Your move, miss.”
Javia
"Go ahead and hang me, it was worth it!"
Duncan tilted his head toward the sheriff with a faint smirk. “See that, Miss Matthews? Someone around here’s got your comfort in mind. Not that you’ll appreciate it.”
"Hardly.... I was the one that pointed out that you couldn't get me on a normal saddle with the leg irons on, your bumble-headed Sherriff was merely bowing to my logic." Zenobia snapped peevishly.
He straightened up, unlocking the cell with slow, measured movements. As the door creaked open, he looked Zenobia square in the eye. “Now, you can keep testing me and see just how far my patience stretches, or you can take that sharp tongue of yours outside and put it to better use figuring out how to climb up on that saddle. Or I carrying you out, put you in the saddle, and tie you down.” She could hear it in his tone that he would do what he said, though he didn't necessarily want to.
He stepped back, gesturing toward the open door. “Your move, miss.”
"I'm not moving an inch until you fetch me a carriage." the pale dark-haired woman repeated firmly. "So either shut up making threats or put them into action, it's beginning to try my patience."
For the first time she looked up at him properly with those improbable green-brown eyes, scanning him up and down.
"And you, Mister Kerrigan, are starting to look faintly ridiculous."
She braced herself... if the fellow had any gumption he'd put his words into action. She realised that she would be sadly disappointed in him if he didn't - that said, she did rather want a carriage: she wanted to be shut away in it, in the dark, like her prison cell. Riding in the fresh open air would be too much like being alive again. It would be a false freedom , to be snatched away again all too quickly.
"Justice doesn’t always wait for the law to catch up."
Duncan Kerrigan had dealt with all manner of obstinate individuals during his time as a U.S. Marshal, but this woman had a knack for testing his patience like no other. His jaw tightened as she scanned him with those striking green-brown eyes, her calm defiance grating against his authority.
"Miss Matthews," he said, his voice low but steady, "Dont say that I didnt give you a chance."
Before she could respond, Duncan closed the distance between them in a few purposeful strides. With one swift motion, he bent, slipped an arm behind her knees, and hoisted her up and over his shoulder as though she weighed no more than a sack of flour.
As he walked with her slung over his shoulder his voice low, carrying a mix of exasperation and amusement. "Stubborn woman, refuses to ride unless it’s in a carriage. Unfortunately, that ain't an option."
As he reached the horse he set her down onto the saddle with surprising gentleness but not without a warning look. "Now, unless you plan to jump off and walk back to your prison cell, you're stayin' right there," he said, adjusting the reins so she could hold them, then making sure the tether from her horse to his was secure as well. "We’ve got a long ride ahead of us."
Duncan made sure that Zenobia herself was secure and set before he moved to Róisín (Little Rose). "Faintly ridiculous, am I?" he muttered under his breath, adjusting the reins and swinging himself up one smooth motion onto his horse. Using his knees he maneuvered Róisín and they started off.
Javia